Chapter 8
“Your Grace, I am not sure you should—”
“I am fine,” Evander snapped, cutting off Toby’s worry-filled words. “Now pour it in, or give me the bucket, and I will do it myself.”
Toby bowed his head but obeyed, pouring the fresh bucket of ice into the already full tub of ice water where Evander was lying.
Evander seethed in a breath through clenched teeth as the crushed ice lowered the temperature of his bath even more, but he did not move.
Instead, he forced himself to sink deeper into the tub until the scars around his neck were as submerged as the rest of his body.
He had been doing this for days now, ever since he nearly lost himself to Helena at the inn.
Ice baths. Vigorous boxing matches with Toby.
Early morning horseback rides that lasted hours, and rounds of practice shooting his pistol until his hands and forearms hurt from the constant kickback.
Anything he could think of to distract his mind from Helena or reduce the yearning for her in his body. But none of it worked, not for long.
Even if such antics did provide a brief distraction, it was all ruined by the time dinner came around.
On the first night, he had tried to have his meal in the privacy of his room, but Patricia was not having it.
She demanded that everyone in the house show old-fashioned decorum and attend dinner as a group.
It was torture. Sitting across from her.
Watching her pretend to be happy now that her mother was back from her trip to London.
Evander was not fooled, though, even if he and Helena both had been working hard at avoiding each other altogether.
He was not fooled because every time he glanced up at her, her eyes flicked toward one particular person.
Lord Ingram.
Evander had been practicing with Toby in the gardens one day when Helena burst through the patio doors with Aggie, her breathing ragged and uneven.
“What is he doing here?” he had heard her ask Aggie with a fear-filled tone. “Why has he come here with Mama?”
Aggie had no answers for her, and though she had not asked him, Evander did not either. He was going to change that, though, because every time he saw Lord Ingram, he was either staring lasciviously at Lady Robinson or Helena.
Especially at dinner.
Evander had bent more than a few forks trying to keep his temper in check when he would catch the scoundrel practically stripping Helena with his eyes.
He had even ripped the bit of the expensive silk tablecloth that hung over the edge last night when he had seen Helena flinch at a compliment Lord Ingram paid her, when he had fisted it too tightly in his hands to stop himself from getting up and slamming said fists into Ingram’s face.
The words the man had spoken had been ones of praise, but the way he had looked at her? The way his voice had slipped into a sensual tone as he spoke? He was not trying to flatter. He was trying to seduce, and from what Evander could see, Helena was disgusted by it.
He had decided then and there to send word to his men in London and find out what they could about Lord Ingram.
He had an awful, twisting sensation in his gut that told him he had nefarious intentions, but until he saw him make an inappropriate move, or had confirmation from his sources that he had already done so, Evander decided to wait and keep watching him closely.
“Your Grace,” Toby’s voice broke through Evander’s swirling thoughts.
His eyes snapped open, and he found his valet looking worriedly down at him.
“Toby, do not start again about my health. I told you I am—”
“I know, Your Grace. You are fine,” Toby gently interrupted. “However, your presence is requested in the dining hall for dinner.”
Numb from the ice bath, Evander struggled to sit up.
“I have plenty of time to get ready for that,” he replied.
Silently, Toby pulled Evander’s pocket watch from the nearby side table and handed it to him.
Evander startled when he saw the time. He had been in the bath for nearly two hours.
He looked down at himself, certain that it could not be true, but sure enough, all the ice had melted, and his flesh even had a blue tint to it.
Evander grimaced. He had not lost time like this in quite a while. Not since he had shaken himself out of his depressive state and chosen to do the work to bring himself back to life and society. This wedding and all it entailed was going to be the end of him; he was sure of it.
“Thank you, Toby,” he muttered, setting the pocket watch aside. “I will dress myself.”
Toby bowed politely, then left. Once alone, Evander eased himself out of the tub, his frustration growing anew as he found himself numb and rather clumsy in footing as he stepped out.
He had to pay more attention to what he was doing, he realized.
He had already been injured enough by others.
He did not need to add anything that came from his own hands.
He dressed slowly, trying in vain not to lose his patience with the buttons that kept slipping from his numb fingers.
He then moved on to tying his cravat, but after cursing the thing and several failed attempts, he gave up, using instead a red scarf to wrap around his neck and tuck into the neck of his shirt.
“There you are,” Patricia said loudly as he entered the dining room. “We were all starting to grow worried.”
“And hungry,” Lord Ingram remarked dryly.
Evander cast him a glare before he bowed his head toward Patricia.
“Apologies,” he offered. “I lost track of the hour.”
“Hmph. See that you keep better time tomorrow,” Patricia answered stiffly as he took his seat across from Helena.
Evander’s desire melted through the numbness his ice bath had created.
Helena was a dream in her sky blue gown.
Small, cupped sleeves sat just off her shoulders, showing off the graceful lines of her collarbone and the column of her throat.
The corseted bodice fit against her figure perfectly, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the narrow curves of her small waist. The matching lace gloves that ended at the wrists were appropriate, he assumed, but he wished she were not wearing them.
Not that he would get the chance to feel her touch again, but he liked being able to see her slim fingers and descend, if only for a second, into the sweet memory of when she had traced such delicate fingertips across his own hands.
The cheery color of the gown and gloves highlighted her blonde locks, spring-green eyes framed by long lashes, and brought out the rosy color not just in her cheeks but also in her full lips. Lips so very soft. He had no idea for sure, but he was certain they felt and tasted like heaven itself.
“There are already too many things running late around here as it is! Our first party is in three days, for heaven’s sake, and we are nowhere near ready for the festivities to start!” Patricia complained, yanking Evander viciously from his reverie.
He quickly looked back at Patricia, grateful that he had been interrupted from his silent worship.
“Well, we have the flowers,” Evander countered wittily. “Which, as you know, is the most important thing to our dear Jeremy.”
Across from him, Helena let out a giggle, and he hated how quickly his aching heart swelled with happiness at the sound. It was the first time in several long days that he had heard her laugh.
“Do not jest about our state of unpreparedness, Evander,” Patricia scolded as they were served their supper. “It makes for bad luck.”
“Then perhaps we ought to summon the one man who can put it right,” he said. “Where is our dear Jeremy? It has been days since he left. Perhaps he could give us some guidance on what he wants?”
Patricia tsked her tongue as Evander snuck another glance at Helena. She was still smiling as politely as ever, but now it seemed false; her brief moment of actual humor or happiness tucked behind a facade once again.
“He is not back yet, as regretful as that is,” Patricia replied. “So it must fall on you and dear Helena to go on with the planning. After dinner, I want you two to make your way into the ballroom and decide on the arrangements.”
The clatter of a fork filled the air, and Evander looked back up at Helena just in time to watch her look of shock slip back into a feigned smile.
Flashes of Helena’s body being pressed up against his, of her hands working their soothing magic over his own, filled his mind, and he suddenly felt unable to breathe.
His mouth full, teeth unwilling to chew, and throat unwilling to swallow, he reached up and loosened the tight scarf that was suddenly strangling him.
He tried to swallow again and coughed. He worked the scarf looser, feeling as if he were on the verge of choking.
“I am sure Mama could help me with that,” Helena said, watching him closely. “You would not mind, would you, Mama?”
She does not even want to be near me. But that is a good thing, I suppose.
Evander followed Helena’s hopeful glance toward her mother, praying that Lady Robinson had some good news for them.
“I am afraid your Mama will be helping me this evening, Helena,” Patricia announced, clearly unaware of the tension she had just caused.
“After watching you walk around in these old gowns of yours the last few days, we realized that we simply must get you something new for the parties. Mary-Anne has your measurements, and she and I will be meeting with the modiste. She is to bring some ready-made gowns to look at for you.”
Evander’s heart sank as he watched Helena lower her gaze in defeat, and guilt rippled through him.
“After dinner, then,” he stated, finally able to force his bite of food down. It slid into his stomach like a brick, and with no will to continue trying to have an appetite, he placed his fork and knife down.
“After dinner,” Helena agreed, and though she kept her knife and fork in her hands for the rest of the meal, Evander could not help but notice that she did not take another bite either.