Chapter Twenty-Four
Evelyn looked up from the book on her lap where she sat, shaded by the trees.
The sound that disturbed her was the rumble of wheels on the drive; an unmarked coach was rattling down the path.
She had not been expecting visitors. Exhaustion still weighed upon her, and she had spent the morning between her chamber and the garden, sleeping, reading, and trying to recover from the ordeal of the capture.
The beauty and joy of being reunited with Sebastian softened the memory of her fear, but her body still insisted on rest. She had slept until nine o’clock and, finding Sebastian occupied, had come outside—hoping, too, to avoid his mother’s persecuting comments.
The coach rolled to a stop, and she blinked in surprise to see James at the window.
“Evelyn! Thank heavens!” he exclaimed. He jumped down from the coach and ran to her, throwing his arms around her. “I am so glad that you are well. Mama was frantic.”
He turned at once to help their mother descend from the coach.
Her face was wet with tears—real, unhidden tears—and when Evelyn embraced her, the small, trembling figure in her arms felt more fragile than she ever remembered.
Sorrow and joy tangled in Evelyn’s heart.
It was the greatest display of emotion she had seen from her mother in years.
“Mama,” Evelyn whispered, holding her close. “What brings you here?”
Before her mother could answer, James assisted Lucy from the coach. Evelyn’s face lit at the sight of her friend, but Mama gripped her tightly and began.
“I had to come! Of course, I had to. You are my dear, dear child, and you were almost killed!” Mama cried. “That dreadful man—oh, my darling!” She clung to Evelyn and sobbed. Evelyn cradled her gently, moved beyond words.
“Hush, Mama,” Evelyn soothed, stroking her back. “I am safe. Truly. You need not fear for me now.”
“But, my dear—it might have happened… that awful man…” Mama’s voice trembled.
“He could have harmed any of us,” Evelyn said gently. Her mother paused and nodded faintly.
“That is true,” she whispered. “And I was scarcely aware of the danger until it was over.”
Evelyn sighed softly. She did not know what to say. To see her mother feel anything—concern, grief, tenderness—was strangely wonderful, even if the emotion was painful.
“Lucy came with us,” Mama said, stepping aside so Lucy could come forward.
Lucy beamed and embraced Evelyn tightly. “It is so good to see you. I am so, so glad you are safe.”
“And I to see you,” Evelyn replied, her voice warm.
“We are both so glad to see you safe and well,” Mama added fervently.
“I am glad too,” Evelyn said, smiling—just in time to hear James chuckle. That small burst of laughter made emotion flood her chest. It had been too long since she had heard him sound so young.
“I received a note from Sebastian’s new solicitor,” James explained as they made their way toward the stairs.
“Alexander Stowe. He says he has taken over Sebastian’s affairs and ours as well, until everything is set right.
” He drew a breath—half relief, half disbelief. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”
“So am I,” Evelyn replied. She felt her heart swell with affection and admiration. She wanted to find Sebastian and kiss him for such kindness—but she reminded herself, with a grin, that she wished to kiss him for any number of reasons.
They entered the hall, and Evelyn sent the butler for tea. Her family followed her upstairs. Nicholas stood in the drawing room; Evelyn smiled warmly at the sight of him. She had not yet had a chance to thank him.
“Miss Harwick,” Nicholas greeted Lucy with an unmistakable brightness in his eyes. Lucy transformed at once—her chatter softening into something shy and delicate.
“Lord Nicholas,” she murmured, sweeping a graceful curtsey, cheeks pink.
“How pleasant to see you all,” Nicholas said, bowing to James and Mama. “I trust you will stay for tea?”
Evelyn nodded, and Nicholas, satisfied, returned his attention to Lucy with quiet delight.
“It was a good ride,” James said as he settled at the tea table. “Mama felt a bit queasy,” he added slyly.
“It has been years since I went quite that fast in a coach,” Mama answered, smiling fondly at him.
Evelyn’s heart soared, seeing them chatting together. They had always been close, and their love brought her real joy. Seeing their mother engaged in happy conversation was something more wonderful than she could express.
“I believe Othello is being staged at Covent Garden soon,” Lucy commented as tea arrived.
“Oh? Do you enjoy Shakespeare?” Nicholas asked.
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “I enjoy going to the theatre. But Evelyn… she is the true connoisseur. She could coach the actors if they lost their lines.”
Evelyn blushed, and Nicholas laughed softly. “I enjoy the theatre too. Not always Shakespeare, but my brother loves it.”
“Oh! How grand,” Lucy said, delighted.
Evelyn smiled as the room filled with light conversation. She poured tea, nibbled a tartlet, and felt her eyelids grow steadily heavier. The gentle murmur of voices lulled her until her head dipped forward. She startled awake, blinking, to find Lucy and Nicholas watching her with concern.
“Forgive me,” Evelyn murmured. “I am tired.”
“You should rest,” Lucy said at once. “We are delighted to see you, but you ought not sit here to keep us company. You must recover.”
“I am quite—” Evelyn began, only to cut herself off with a yawn.
“No, you are not,” Lucy said firmly. “Go upstairs. Sleep. We shall be here when you wake.”
Evelyn hesitated, then nodded. “I would like to rest.” She rose carefully—her legs felt weaker than she expected. She turned to her mother. “Mama, I hope you will excuse me?”
“Of course, my dear. Rest. We will be here when you return,” Mama said gently.
Evelyn thanked them and walked out into the hallway. She walked to her chamber, then turned as a voice hailed her from behind.
“Evelyn,” Sebastian called. His tone—low, warm, unmistakably intimate—sent a shiver through her. He wrapped his arms around her, his weight pressed against her, and Evelyn sighed; the exhaustion she had felt only moments earlier melting away beneath the heat of his nearness.
“Sebastian,” she murmured. She gazed up at him. “I was tired. I wished to rest,” she began. He smiled.
“As did I,” he replied. “Are you certain you wish to rest?” he asked and then brushed a kiss against her temple
Evelyn opened the chamber door, her pulse quickening. “No,” she admitted, grinning helplessly. “No, I find I am perfectly awake now.”
“As am I,” he murmured.
He stepped inside with her, closing the door behind them. In the soft daylight, his gaze swept over her with such reverence and longing that her cheeks warmed. He drew her into his arms and began to ease open the buttons of her gown, leaning close to press slow, lingering kisses along her throat.
The dress slipped from her shoulders. Evelyn reached up, timid but determined, to loosen his cravat. He flushed—pleased, surprised—and smiled.
“It is not easy to undo someone else’s buttons,” she admitted, embarrassed.
“It is the greatest honour in the world to have you undo mine,” he replied with a smile.
A moment later, he gathered her into his arms and guided her back onto the bed with a care that made her breath catch
She giggled in delight, then gasped as his strong, naked body wrapped around hers and his lips found her own, wet and warm and clinging.
His knee was between her thighs; his powerful chest pressed against her own.
She gazed up at him. In the daylight that filtered through the bedroom window, she could see his powerful shoulders and strong chest, his biceps that rippled with muscle.
He was a wondrous sight, an image of masculine beauty.
She sighed and stroked his thick brown hair, revelling in the warmth of his closeness.
He kissed her body all over, beginning at her shoulders and moving down to her navel. As his mouth moved lower, she sighed, her eyes shut as she moaned and gasped and cried out at the pleasure that he aroused in her.
He straightened and entered her, moving with a reverential slowness that made the heat that flared in her loins grow and build and intensify until she was crying out again as wave after wave of sensation crashed through her.
He cried out too, at almost the same time, arcing back as he thrust into her, then groaning and collapsing, satisfied and sated, into her arms.
“Evelyn,” he breathed as he stroked her hair. “Evelyn. I do not know what I would do without you.”
“Nor I without you,” Evelyn said with a grin, stroking his cheek where he lay beside her. “You wonderful man.”
“You wondrous woman,” he whispered back.
They lay together, limbs entwined, skin warm and damp from the summer heat. Evelyn nestled against him, feeling utterly safe, utterly known. Sleep tugged at her gently.
“I love you,” she murmured, drifting.
“I love you too, Evelyn. With all my heart,” he answered, holding her as though he would never let her go.
She closed her eyes, and in his arms—while a lark sang somewhere beyond the window—Evelyn let herself fall peacefully into sleep.