Chapter 20 #2
Olivia’s laugh filled the room. “That is not how I recall it happening.”
He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a devilish grin. “Well, you would be wrong. There was a great deal of pleading on your part, if memory serves. And me, being the magnanimous gentleman I am, consented. I couldn’t very well let you pine away for me, now could I?”
His mother chuckled softly from her place in bed, her thin hands folded atop the coverlet. Though still pale, she looked stronger than she had in days. “That was kind of you, Son,” she said dryly. “But I suspect the truth lies somewhere in the middle.”
Placing a hand to his chest with mock offense, Evander gasped. “I do not know why either of you are acting so surprised. Olivia has always wanted this.” He waved a hand over his person. “And can you blame her?”
Olivia rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion. “Do you even hear yourself speak?”
A grin tugged at his lips. “I do,” he replied. “And yet, you are stuck with me.”
She met his gaze, soft now, genuine. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”
That quiet admission lodged somewhere deep inside his chest. Even in jest, her affection grounded him.
His mother gave a contented sigh. “I am so pleased that you two have finally come to terms with your feelings. I always knew you cared for one another—far more than either of you would admit.”
Before Evander could respond, a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” he called, straightening slightly.
A young maid stepped in and dipped a quick curtsy. “Lord Alcott has requested a moment of your time, my lord.”
Evander nodded. “Inform him I will be down in a moment.”
As the maid withdrew, Evander leaned forward and reached for his mother’s hand. “I won’t be long.”
She patted his hand with a smile. “Do not rush on my account. I’m rather eager to hear Olivia’s version of the tale.”
He looked back towards his wife. “I’m sure she’ll leave out the part where she nearly swooned from my kiss. It was quite something. She tried to play coy, but truly, she was overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed by your ego, perhaps,” Olivia quipped. “Your kissing skills are merely adequate.”
He turned, aghast. “Adequate? Take that back, Wife.”
Her eyes danced with mischief. “I might be wrong, but I suppose we’ll have to kiss more to find out.”
His chest tightened at the thought. How he wanted to whisk her away upstairs, away from his duties, away from the world. But now was not the time.
He cleared his throat and turned back to the door. “I should see what Alcott wants.”
As he exited, he caught a final glimpse of Olivia settling beside his mother, the two of them falling easily into conversation.
That image—his mother smiling, Olivia beside her, both of them at peace—lodged itself in his heart.
He never would’ve thought he could have this.
And now that he did, he would never let it go.
Downstairs, the drawing room was empty save for Alcott, standing with his usual rigid posture, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked every bit the soldier—composed, guarded, as though ready for battle.
“Alcott,” Evander greeted as he crossed the room. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“I would,” came the reply, though his tone was subdued.
Evander reached for the decanter. “Is something troubling you?”
There was a pause. “I’m considering taking a wife.”
Evander’s hand stilled mid-pour. “A wife?” He looked up, startled. “You?”
Alcott gave a curt nod, though his jaw tightened. “Not because I want to, not really. But I believe it would benefit my sister. And… I need an heir.”
Evander resumed pouring, slowly, before handing his friend a glass. “That is not the best reason to marry.”
“I don’t claim it is,” Alcott admitted, studying the amber liquid in his glass.
“Do you have a young lady in mind?” Evander asked, suspicion already curling in his gut.
“No.” Alcott’s voice was flat, devoid of any real emotion.
Evander frowned. “That could be problematic.”
Alcott glanced towards the doorway, as if wary of being overheard. “I saw Warwicke at the club. He said things are going well between you and Olivia.”
“They are. Better than I ever hoped.”
Alcott gave a short nod. “I’m happy for you. I doubt I’ll be as lucky.”
“I’ve loved Olivia since we were young,” Evander admitted. “She walked into my life like she already knew there was a place for her deep within my heart.”
Alcott’s expression turned solemn. “What do you intend to do with the indigo plantation now that the immediate danger has passed?”
Evander shrugged. “There will always be threats, so long as reformers still exist. But for now… I hope we’ve reached a temporary peace. I intend to treat the workers fairly.”
“Wise,” Alcott murmured as he moved to set his glass down. “I should go.”
Evander studied him carefully. There was tension beneath the surface—something unsaid, something eating away at him. “What’s wrong?”
Alcott hesitated before admitting, “I wish I was still fighting on the Continent. Life was simpler there. There was clarity. Purpose.”
“Some might say it’s easier to be a viscount,” he joked.
“Those people would be wrong.”
The humor drained from Evander’s face. “I was where you are once. Conflicted. Lost. But I came to terms with my duty.”
“Duty.” Alcott spat the word like it tasted sour. “It’s just another name for shackles.”
Evander took a slow breath. “Did something happen?”
“Yes,” Alcott said after a pause. “But I don’t wish to trouble you. Not now.”
“You’re not troubling me—”
“I’ll tell you more when I know more,” Alcott interrupted. “But I should go.”
Evander stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. You have friends. Me, included.”
“I know,” Alcott said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “How does one even go about finding a wife?”
“You’re serious, then?” Evander asked.
“I am. The sooner the better.”
Evander opened his mouth to respond, but faltered. What could he say? What advice could truly help a man who didn’t believe he deserved love?
Before he could speak, Alcott raised a hand to stop him. “I’ll figure it out.”
As Alcott turned to go, Evander watched him—his friend’s shoulders sagging, his steps slower than usual.
“Wait,” Evander called after him. “My only advice is don’t rush into marriage. Find someone you could come to love.”
Alcott stopped in the doorway, but didn’t turn back. “Love?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “I’m not foolish enough to believe I deserve love. I’ll settle for a practical marriage of mutual toleration.”
Evander’s reply was quiet, but firm. “Everyone deserves to find love.”
“You were fortunate. Not everyone is so lucky.”
And then he was gone.
Evander stood in the quiet room, a heaviness settling in his chest. He didn’t know what haunted his friend, but he could feel it—Alcott was slipping into something dark. And Evander only prayed he could reach him before it consumed him entirely.
Olivia appeared in the doorway. “Your mother is resting now,” she informed him.
Evander set his glass of brandy on the side table and crossed the room without hesitation. “I love you,” he said, the words leaving his lips with more force than he expected.
Her whole face lit up. “And I love you.”
He drew her into his arms. “Thank you for loving me,” he murmured against her temple. “I do not know what I ever did to deserve you.”
She looked up at him then, her brow knitting slightly with concern. “Did something happen with Lord Alcott?”
Evander exhaled a sigh. “He says he’s ready to marry,” he replied. “But only for convenience. Duty, security, heirs. He believes love is beyond his reach.”
“But that’s how we began, and look at where we are now.”
He smiled. “There’s a difference, Livy,” he said, his voice low.
He brought a hand to her cheek, tracing the curve with his thumb.
“You didn’t know it then, but I was never not thinking of you.
Not once. From the moment you first walked into my life with those fierce eyes and stubborn opinions, you’ve consumed me, body and soul.
You were in my thoughts every hour, in every breath I drew. ”
Emotion welled in his chest, thick and overwhelming. It had taken him years—too many—to say those words aloud. And now that he had, the truth of them nearly undid him.
Olivia didn’t speak right away. She didn’t need to. She reached up, her fingers curling behind his neck, and brought her lips to his with a kiss that silenced the world.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes shimmered with the same feeling that had taken root in his own soul. “Then let’s not waste a moment,” she whispered.
He felt the last remnants of restraint crumble. With a rough laugh that caught in his throat, Evander kissed her again—fiercely, reverently. She was everything he had ever wanted, everything he’d once believed he could never have. And now, she was his.
Forever.