Chapter 24
You survived the rope once. Do not think you will be so fortunate a second time.
Evander read the letter for perhaps the tenth time that morning, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The hand that had written it was unfamiliar. He had told no one about the burning ropes. Not even Adrian or Damien. Not even his own mother knew the specific manner of his torture.
Which meant whoever was sending him these letters was not just some demented person who had read the stories of Evander’s rescue. It was someone who had been aboard Augustus’s ship and had somehow evaded the constables when they had seized the ship and its roster and books.
Either that, or Augustus had not been working alone.
“Your Grace, a Mr. Forks and Mr. Ridge are here to see you.”
With effort, Evander dragged his gaze away from the threatening note.
“Send them in, Toby,” Evander stated, willing his fraying nerves to settle as he stood up.
A moment later, Toby returned with the two men Evander had hired to look into Lord Ingram.
Though their names were quite ordinary, Evander knew their talents for investigation were anything but.
If they had been working for the Royal Guard, he might have been found sooner, but these gentlemen preferred more private, more expensive terms of employment.
Evander greeted them with a polite nod and a glass of whiskey, then waved them both toward the two empty chairs as he leaned against his desk.
“Have you uncovered something new?” he asked, getting right down to the matter at hand.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Mr. Forks replied, handing Evander a missive.
“What is this?” Evander asked, opening it.
“An inventory list of Lord Ingram’s last few shipments,” Mr. Ridge replied. “Looks a bit cocked, doesn’t it?”
Evander’s brows furrowed as he studied the paper. The columns meant little to him at first, strings of abbreviations and figures that could have belonged to any merchant’s ledger. Cargo weights. Ports of call. Numbers that did not quite align with the goods listed beside them.
“What am I looking at?” he asked, glancing between the two men. “These numbers here, they do not match the manifests.”
“No, Your Grace, they do not,” Mr. Forks said grimly. “Because the manifests are false. What is truly aboard those ships is not silk or spice.”
Evander’s gaze dropped back to the page, to the strange notations he had dismissed, and a cold, creeping understanding began to take hold.
“These figures…” he said slowly. “Under the column marked for cargo weight. Are they…”
“Heads, Your Grace,” Mr. Ridge said quietly. “We believe that is what they are counting.”
The paper nearly slipped from Evander’s fingers. His lips drew back into a feral sneer as rage seethed in his chest.
“He is trafficking women?” Evander gritted out, his hands beginning to shake. Just like Augustus.
“How long?” he demanded, wrenching his gaze up to his two informants.
“At least three years,” Mr. Forks replied calmly. “Which is suspicious, as his old business partner—”
“Four years ago,” Evander muttered, cutting him off.
Mr. Forks gave him a curt nod.
“We have not found the link yet,” Mr. Ridge remarked. “But we suspect he might have been a business partner of Augustus.”
Rage and vengeance tunneled through Evander’s veins, so thick and toxic that for a moment he lost his ability to breathe.
Then the rage curdled into pure dread. If Ingram was only one piece of it, then Augustus had never been the whole of it either.
He had spent two years believing the worst was behind him.
That the men responsible had been caught, hanged, and dealt with.
But if this ring stretched wider than one ship, wider than Augustus alone, then what exactly had he survived?
A branch. A single branch of a tree whose roots he had never even seen.
Every scar on his body, every night spent clawing his way back from the edge of his own mind, and none of it had touched the true source at all.
It was all for nothing. Nothing is over…
His pulse roared in his ears. The room narrowed at the edges, and he pressed the heel of his hand hard against his chest.
Then his study door opened, and Helena stepped into the room.
Forgetting the two men in his study, forgetting propriety, Evander pushed from the desk and stalked to his wife.
Her eyes widened slightly with worry as he approached, but before she could speak, he wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and slammed his lips down on hers in a possessive kiss.
Air whooshed back into his lungs; light poured through his soul as he used that kiss as the lifeline that it was.
“Oh my,” Helena breathed, swaying slightly, her eyes still closed when he finally pulled back.
He watched with bated breath, worried he might have taken his liberties too far. Then a smile spread across her lips as her golden lashes lifted, and his rigid body relaxed as she looked lovingly up into his eyes.
“What a wonderful greeting,” she said, a beautiful pink blush blooming into her cheeks.
Evander expelled a huff of relief, and the side of his mouth lifted up into a sort of smile before he placed another quick kiss on her lips, then let her go.
“Apologies,” he offered, stepping to Helena’s side as he looked toward Mr. Ridge and Mr. Forks. “I am constantly overtaken by my wife’s presence.”
Helena’s pink blush turned crimson as she followed Evander’s gaze and saw his company.
“Oh, I was not aware you had guests,” she said, glancing apologetically from them to Evander.
“It is no trouble, Your Grace,” Mr. Forks said. He and Mr. Ridge both stood up so they could bow to Helena in respect.
“No trouble at all,” Evander agreed. “In fact, we have just concluded our business, so you have not interrupted anything.”
“We will be in touch, Your Grace,” Mr. Ridge stated, bowing his head to him. Mr. Forks bowed his head as well.
Evander gave them a curt nod as they left.
“Are you well, my love?” Helena asked once they were alone, her delicate brows furrowing in concern. “Not that I disliked your impassioned greeting, but you looked most disturbed as you walked toward me. As if you had received terrible news.”
For a moment, Evander contemplated telling her the truth. All of it, from the letters he had been receiving to the news he had just been given about Lord Ingram. Then he pictured how such news would affect Helena, and he quickly decided against it.
She does not have to suffer the way I do.
“I simply became overwhelmed by your shining presence, my darling,” he replied, bringing her hands to his lips. “All is well, I promise you.”
For a moment, Helena looked at him as if she could see through his lie, then her beautiful face softened into a smile, and she nodded.
“Well, if you are finished, I would like you to join me on the patio. Mama and Alex are here, and they want to thank you personally for all you have done for them thus far.”
Evander drew in a calming breath, taking a moment to glance at the letters still sprawled across his desk.
“I do not need such thanks,” he replied. “I am honored to be able to help them.”
Helena’s smile turned affectionate as she rose up on her toes and placed a soft kiss on his jawline.
“I know you are, but it would mean so much to my mother if she were allowed to express her gratitude to you,” she gently insisted.
Though a nagging sensation tugged at his mind to stay and study the letters again, Evander nodded. It seemed to take so little to make Helena happy, and he would not stop his efforts to keep her smiling just because some devilish person was trying to scare him.
“Very well,” he acquiesced.
Hand in hand, they walked out of his study and through the long halls until they reached the French doors in the library that opened up into the patio. Evander’s brows lifted in surprise as he took in Mary-Anne, chatting so comfortably with his own mother.
“Why does she look so very different?” he whispered to Helena as he watched the two mothers.
Helena squeezed his hand, and he could have sworn he felt the happiness that ebbed inside of her flow into him.
“She tells me Lord Ingram has not appeared or written even once since they returned to London,” Helena whispered excitedly. “Is it not wonderful how much brighter and happier she looks in the absence of his presence? And it is all thanks to you, and your willingness to protect us.”
Evander’s gaze quickly shifted from their mothers down to Helena, and his heart throbbed with love as he saw the utter gratitude shining in her eyes.
“I would do anything to keep you and your family safe,” he vowed, reaching up to caress her face. “In fact, I…”
He wanted to tell her then. To tell her how their letters from years ago kept the ember of humanity alive through all his torture.
How her presence and her words, even though she hadn’t yet discovered it was he she was writing to, had saved him from fully becoming the beast inside him.
He felt such a confession bubbling up in his throat, but as he parted his lips to say the words—something wet and sticky splattered across his cheek.
“Alex!” Helena shrieked, her flushed cheeks growing pale in an instant.
Evander turned in the direction her wide-eyed gaze had been drawn to, and he saw the young boy standing on the edge of the patio, smiling deviously as he held up another handful of mud.
Evander grinned in a similar fashion as he wiped his cheek, forgetting not only about his confession but the threatening letters he had abandoned on his desk.
“Are you trying to goad me into a battle, young man?” he asked.
Alex tilted his chin up as his small eyes sparkled playfully, even as Helena and Mary-Anne both demanded he drop the bit of mud immediately and apologize.
“I am a knight,” Alex declared. “And you are the ogre that I shall slay!”
Evander’s grin grew more devilish even as the women continued to scold the boy.
“Oh, is that so, young knight?” he asked, raising the handful of mud he had swiped from his cheek. “You think a mere mortal can vanquish such an ogre as I?”
Alex’s eyes widened as he realized a bit too late that Evander would not simply stand as a target, and he did not move fast enough as Evander threw the bit of mud back at him. His little face scrunched as the mud splattered over his forehead; the act sent the women into silence.
Then Alex grinned and flung his handful of mud. Evander sidestepped the earthen cannon and dove toward the boy; his quick movements made the child let out a squeal of amused terror as he dodged.
“Toby!” Evander called.
“Your Grace!” Toby replied, appearing at once on the patio.
“Fetch my practice swords at once,” he commanded. “It seems a battle is afoot!”
Alex stopped running at once and doubled back to Evander with wide-eyed excitement.
“Truly? You will teach me how to wield a sword?” he asked.
“Every true knight must learn such a skill,” Evander replied matter-of-factly as he shrugged off his jacket. “Even if such teachings come from an ogre. What do you say, young man? Are you up for the challenge?”
Alex nodded fiercely, and within minutes, Toby had produced two wooden practice swords. Evander kneeled in the grass to Alex’s level, adjusting his hand around the hilt with great care.
“Not so tight,” he instructed, loosening Alex’s white-knuckled grip. “A blade held too tightly will tire your arm. Keep it loose, but steady.”
They sparred until Alex’s arms trembled with the effort of holding his blade upright. When Evander finally called a halt, tapping his own wooden blade gently against Alex’s in a mock salute, the boy stood there panting, grinning up at him as though he had just witnessed a miracle.
“You are the best knight I have ever seen,” Alex declared. “I apologize for calling you a beast and an ogre.”
“High praise indeed,” Evander replied, setting a hand briefly atop the boy’s tousled head. “Though I suspect you will surpass me before long if you keep practicing.”
Alex beamed at that, then Evander watched him barrel into Helena’s skirts, watched her laugh and catch him up despite the mud still clinging to his clothes, and a determined resolve settled in his heart.
He had survived worse. Whoever was out there could send their threats. They could try. But he would burn the world down himself before he let anyone ruin his happiness this time.