Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Evan knew he should have said no to Chastity’s invitation, but resisting the pull to see Minerva one last time had been impossible.
The ballroom was glittering with celebration, the air thick with laughter and congratulations, but he felt none of the joy that surrounded him.
Instead, he was anchored in a different kind of tension—the kind that twisted his stomach and tightened his chest whenever he thought of Minerva.
He had barely stepped into the room when he saw her.
Even across the crowded ballroom, she shone, her blue eyes blazing with the kind of fire that made his heart both ache and race.
Minerva stood with three friends, laughing and giggling like schoolgirls.
She seemed to make an effort to avoid him, but eventually, her eyes turned to him.
Still, even as her glare burned into him, he did not regret coming.
Evan felt his feet move of their own accord, carrying him closer to the woman he had wronged. Chastity approached her sister, and Evan faltered, wondering if he should hold off on approaching Minerva.
But, he shook himself. He tried to tell himself he was there to congratulate Chastity on her engagement, to play the part of the well-wisher and nothing more.
But he couldn’t stop his gaze from straying to Minerva, who was visibly tipsy, her hand clutching a glass of champagne with a grip that suggested she was using it to hold herself together.
Evan was nearly upon them when Chastity’s eyes lit up, and she turned to him with a welcoming smile. “Your Grace,” she greeted, her voice warm. “Thank you for coming! It means a great deal to me—and to Wellford.”
Evan managed a polite smile, but it faltered when he noticed Minerva’s expression darken.
Her lips tightened, and she tilted her head back to finish what remained of her champagne in one long, defiant gulp.
Beside her, Samantha and Cherie exchanged uneasy glances, picking up on the tension that seemed to crackle in the air.
“Of course,” Evan replied, his voice sounding more strained than he intended. “I wouldn’t miss such a happy occasion.”
Chastity, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between her sister and Evan, beamed. “Minerva,” she said, gesturing for her sister to join the conversation, “look who’s here to congratulate us.”
Minerva turned to face him, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and barely suppressed anger. Her eyes met his, and the disdain in them made his chest tighten painfully. But beneath the fury, he could see the hurt he had caused—hurt he had never meant to inflict.
Samantha stepped forward slightly, her sharp gaze flicking between Minerva and Evan. “Minerva,” she murmured, her voice low but supportive, “are you all right?”
Minerva set her empty glass down with a force that made it clink sharply against the table. “A word?” she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she ignored Samantha’s question. “I am not sure there’s anything you could say that I would care to hear, Your Grace.”
Cherie’s eyebrows shot up, and she exchanged a look with Samantha, who crossed her arms protectively. “If he’s here to cause trouble, we can handle him,” Cherie whispered, her tone fierce and ready for battle.
Chastity’s smile faltered, her eyes widening with concern. “Minerva, are you sure everything is all right?”
Minerva plastered on a brittle smile, her voice cracking as she responded. “Of course I am. This night is about you, Chastity. Not... whatever this is.” Her eyes flicked to Evan, her voice heavy with disdain.
Evan’s heart clenched, and he could feel his resolve crumbling under the weight of Minerva’s disdain.
He had never felt more like the rake people claimed he was, and the realization only made the need to make things right more urgent.
“Please,” he said, his voice low and earnest, meant for her ears alone. “Just a moment. That’s all I ask.”
Minerva hesitated, her gaze searching his as if she were looking for some hint of insincerity, some sign that he was about to wound her again. But what she found, instead, was a vulnerability he rarely showed anyone—a crack in the armor he had so carefully constructed.
Chastity stepped back, confusion clear on her face. “If you need to speak privately...” she began, but Minerva’s hand shot out to stop her.
“No need,” Minerva told her quickly. She turned to Samantha and Cherie, her eyes narrowing. “Stay close. I won’t be long.”
Samantha lifted her chin, clearly ready to intervene if necessary. “We’ll be right here,” she said, her tone protective.
Evan’s jaw tightened, needing to get Minerva alone, if only for a moment. “Would you care to dance, Lady Minerva?” he asked, his voice gentler, but the plea beneath it unmistakable.
Minerva drew in a sharp breath, her body tensing. “I need some air,” she announced, her voice light but cracking under the strain.
With that, she spun away, her skirts swirling around her ankles as she made her way toward the balcony. Evan’s chest tightened. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. He couldn’t let it end like this—not with everything unsaid between them.
Samantha shot him a warning glare. “If you hurt her again,” she threatened quietly, “you’ll answer to us.”
Cherie nodded in agreement, her expression fierce. “Don’t think for a second we won’t step in.”
Evan nodded, the weight of their protectiveness only adding to his guilt.
Without another thought, he moved to follow Minerva, ignoring the curious glances from guests and the flutter of whispers in his wake.
He quickened his pace as he saw her disappearing out onto the balcony.
She stepped into the moonlight, but even there, she didn’t stop.
Minerva pressed forward, her stride carrying her down the stairs toward the garden, away from the crowd and into the shadows of the estate grounds.
“Minerva,” he called after her, but she didn’t slow.
Evan clenched his jaw, catching up to her at last and gently grabbing her elbow, forcing her to stop. She wrenched her arm away, but he held firm, though gently, and stepped into her path. “Please,” he said, his voice urgent, raw. “Just... face me. Hear me out.”
Minerva spun around, her eyes flashing with anger, with pain she clearly tried to mask.
“How dare you,” she spat, her voice trembling.
“You disappear for weeks, and then come back acting as though you care. After I thought–” Her voice broke, and she quickly looked away, her shoulders stiff with barely suppressed emotion.
He drew in a shuddering breath, his grip loosening but his presence remaining steady, unwavering. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I don’t deserve your patience. I don’t deserve to be heard, not after the way I treated you. But please, Minerva... I had my reasons.”
She scoffed, her lips curling in disbelief. “What reasons could possibly justify abandoning me? Making me feel like a fool for trusting you, even for a moment?”
Evan’s gaze softened, but he could feel the weight of his own guilt crushing him.
The way she stood there, her chin lifted despite the hurt he could see in her eyes, made him wish he could take back every moment he had ever caused her pain.
“It wasn’t because of you,” he admitted, his voice thick.
“It was never because you weren’t worthy. It was because I...”
He faltered, and she shook her head, stepping back from him. “Save your excuses,” she whispered. “You’re just a rake, Evan. I should have known better than to think you could be anything else.”
Her words were like a slap, and he flinched.
But he refused to let her walk away, not without trying to make her understand.
He reached out again, desperation threading through his voice.
“Minerva, please. I know I have hurt you. But I swear to you, everything I have done, every mistake I have made... it was because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.
I didn’t want you to suffer because of me. ”
She froze, her eyes narrowing with disbelief. “You think leaving me, hurting me, somehow protected me?” She laughed, but the sound was hollow, brittle. “You arrogant, insufferable fool.”
He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling where they held her. “Yes,” he said, his voice breaking. “Because the thought of you being ruined by association, of your name being whispered about because of me... it terrified me. You deserve someone better. Someone who isn’t... broken.”
Minerva’s expression wavered, but she drew herself up, her chin trembling. “Deciding what I deserve is not your place” she said, her voice fierce. “And you certainly don’t get to break my heart and then pretend it was for my own good.”
Evan’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his own shame pressing down on him. He had never felt more helpless, more unworthy of her. But he had to try, even if it meant baring every vulnerable, ugly part of himself.
Minerva’s eyes flared with anger and vulnerable defensiveness as she stepped closer to Evan.
Her hands, trembling slightly, traced up to his shoulders, and the touch sent an involuntary shiver through him.
The heat of her palms against his chest was both a comfort and a torment, and he found himself backing up instinctively—only to be stopped by the hedge behind him.
He swallowed hard, feeling trapped not just by the hedge but by the intensity of her gaze.
“Don’t do this to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
But even as he spoke, his eyes dropped to her lips, drawn to the proximity of her, the way her breath mingled with his in the cool evening air.
Desire warred with his better judgment, and he was desperate—aching—to close the distance between them.