Chapter 33
“Are you certain that you want to talk here? There are better places than this…” Murrayton trailed off, casting Stephan a doubtful look. “This disreputable place.”
Stephan dropped into a chair and leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. This was the tavern where he had met Evelina, where he had resolved to have just one more night as himself and not the Duke of Rothbury.
“Amelia would be horrified to discover that I came here,” Murrayton continued lightly.
“Then, why did you come?” Stephan asked reluctantly.
“Because you asked me to,” Murrayton said simply. “Besides, I can tell that something is bothering you. Given that you said you need to talk about Evelina…”
Stephan raked his hands through his hair and gazed up at his friend.
Murrayton’s face was the picture of concern.
He sat across the table from Stephan and gestured for the nearby barmaid.
She approached them, and Murrayton requested ale.
Stephan grimaced; he did not tell Murrayton that the ale in this tavern tasted like drinking dirty water.
“So,” Murrayton said, spreading his hands. “I am here to humor you. What is wrong? Is the Duchess well?”
Stephan sighed and reluctantly straightened his spine. He was pathetic, longing for Evelina and loathing himself for rejecting her. Stephan straightened his spine, determined to maintain some small amount of dignity. “She is—she is as well as can be expected given the circumstances.”
Murrayton narrowed his eyes. “And what are the circumstances? You are being obtuse, my friend.”
“I told her I do not love her.”
Murrayton frowned. “That seems unkind.”
“I have my reasons,” Stephan said. “I—I just wonder—how did you know that your wife was the person you wanted to marry? When did you know that you loved her and that you would love her forever?”
Murrayton chuckled and shook his head. His face brightened at the question, as if the thought of answering it delighted him.
“In truth, I do not know. I just loved her from the moment that I met her,” Murrayton said.
“I glimpsed her at a ball and decided that I wanted to do everything in my power to be worthy of her and to give her the life she deserved, even if everyone else said that I would never be enough.”
Stephan stared at his friend in disbelief. Murrayton made falling in love sound so absurdly simple, like something in a romance. “You were too young,” Stephan said flatly. “And romantic.”
“I was,” Murrayton readily agreed. “But I was right, nonetheless. I have loved her every day since I met her.”
Stephan scowled. “You are likely one out of hundreds to have a love story like that.”
The barmaid returned and placed a tankard of ale before each of them. “Thank you,” Murrayton said.
“A pleasure,” she replied.
Murrayton took a swallow of his ale and grimaced. “Disgusting,” he said. “You might have warned me.”
Stephan supposed he might have. “Most people do not fall in love like that,” Stephan continued. “I should have thought of asking someone else about Evelina.”
Murrayton shook his head. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “Do you have some concerns about Evelina?”
“I am uncertain that she is the one whom I should have married,” Stephan said. “I think I have made a grievous error.”
“What error? Rothbury, I would enjoy helping you, but I feel as though you are explaining too much. Start at the beginning. What happened with Evelina?”
Stephan growled under his breath and drank the ale, even though it was disgusting. He had never been a man who indulged in drink to find his courage, and Stephan doubted that small swallow of watered-down ale would do anything to make the situation more tolerable.
Still, it was worth a try.
“The difficulties began after we married,” Stephan said. “Evelina began making changes to the house. At first, I thought they were harmless. She was ill—remember?”
“Yes.”
“Well, to make her recovery come more quickly, Evelina decided that she needed to make the house brighter. She said that would raise her spirits, so she would be well. I did not think much of that,” Stephan said, sighing, “but I saw no harm in indulging her.”
Stephan paused, waiting for his friend’s judgment, but Murrayton offered none.
“I began to like the changes,” Stephan continued, “even if I told her I did not. After that, she tried to…befriend me, I think. She wanted to know more about who I was, and we spent our nights together without even trying to produce an heir.”
“Did you dissuade her?” asked Murrayton.
Stephan sighed deeply. That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? “No,” Stephan said begrudgingly. “I let her do as she pleased.”
Murrayton shrugged. “Then, I fail to see how any of this is Evelina’s fault. How was Evelina supposed to know that you would be so vexed by her actions if you did not tell her?”
Stephan shook his head. “I am not trying to imply that it is Evelina’s fault. It is not. Well, not her fault, but…”
“But?” Murrayton prompted.
“But she crossed boundaries!” Stephan exclaimed, unable to contain himself any longer.
“She agreed to our arrangement. We were supposed to be a marriage of convenience, and she wanted to be something more than that! She insisted on—on learning about my life and me. She even…she even baked me a cake. How absurd is that?”
Murrayton snorted, his lips curving into a smile. “That is very odd.”
“Agreed,” Stephan said. “And she—she wanted to—she started talking about trying to free me from those accursed conditions my father created for me. Evelina was just…she started to care too much about me.”
With a start, Stephan realized that he had crossed boundaries, too.
He had offered Evelina pleasure when they were not even attempting to produce an heir.
He had stayed at her bedside when she was ill, had spent long hours talking to her about nothing of consequence, and he had foolishly thought to himself that he was only doing what any decent man would do.
Maybe that was so, but Stephan knew that many husbands would not have done the same.
He could have asked her lady’s maid to remain with her instead.
He could have made his visits with her shorter.
Murrayton laughed, and Stephan cast him a sharp, vexed look. “I am glad to see that you find my plight so amusing.”
“How can I not?” Murrayton asked. “You have always been a man who feels everything so strongly. You called me romantic and young for falling in love with Amelia at first sight, but you have been more foolish than I. Did you truly believe that you, a man who feels and thinks too much, would not grow close to Evelina? You created this impossibly strict contract stating that Evelina would live in your house until an heir was born, and you truly did not foresee that you were doomed to fail from that start.”
Stephan toyed with the tankard of ale. When Murrayton laid everything out like that, Stephan had to admit that he did sound foolish.
“Besides,” Murrayton continued. “You liked her from the start. You came alive when you talked about her. I knew you would fall in love with her.”
“I did not say I love her.”
“But you clearly do, or you think you do,” Murrayton said. “If not, we would not even be conversing about her.”
Stephan grimaced. “You might have warned me,” he muttered.
“If I had warned you, you would have decided to find another woman,” Murrayton pointed out.
Stephan knew he was right.
“And I thought falling in love would be good for you,” Murrayton said. “You are a good man, and you deserve happiness in your life.”
“I was happy.”
“You were surviving,” Murrayton said. “Do you believe that men are meant to live only for war? For traveling?”
Stephan frowned and swallowed another mouthful of ale. “No.”
“I think that the marriage gave you something else to devote your energies to,” Murrayton said gently.
“For the first time in years, you had something in your life that was not war or the sea. You were frustrated by the idea of marriage, as any man in your situation would be, but I also think you wanted it.”
Silence fell between them. Stephan absentmindedly drank his ale, while Murrayton ran his finger around the rim of his own tankard, seemingly content to wait for Stephan to speak.
At last, Stephan heaved a deep sigh and crossed his arms. “You are right,” he admitted. “I did. I…enjoy spending time with her and being her husband.”
“A happy ending,” Murrayton said, “but you are looking at me as if your world has just collapsed around you.”
“It has,” replied Stephan. “You know that I never wanted to come back.”
“And you know that was inevitable,” Murrayton pointed out. “You took on the mantle of the Duke of Rothbury when you could have refused it.”
“Mostly to beat Her Grace at her own game,” Stephan said. “I could not let the dukedom go to her.”
Murrayton shook his head. “You realize that there is nothing wrong with wanting a home, don’t you?”
“I have not needed one for years,” Stephan said. “Why can’t I just continue as I have been?”
“I suppose you can.” Murrayton’s face fell. “There is nothing preventing you from abandoning everything and returning to the sea, nothing except your pride and your wife.”
“I cannot leave her,” Stephan said mournfully. “But I cannot be with her either. I never should have encouraged her to love me.”
“Why ever not?” Murrayton asked. “You are allowed to be happy, my friend. You know that, don’t you?”
Stephan grimaced. “Ten years ago, I resolved that I would never fall in love or be the conventional man.”
“Ten years is a long time,” Murrayton said. “People change.”
Murrayton said that as if it was the easiest thing in the world to accept, as if Stephan should have no difficulty in abandoning a ten-year promise and understanding of himself.
Stephan leaned back in his chair, thinking of Evelina, who had changed the rules of their arrangement. Evelina, who made his heart beat more quickly. Evelina, who was lively and beautiful and charming.
“Thank you for talking with me,” Stephan said. “I need—I need time to think.”
“Most men would,” Murrayton said gently, “but I would urge you not to take too much time. Evelina deserves an answer from you.”
“I know.”
“And you deserve to be happy. Do not let your pride keep you from a happy future with a beautiful and doting wife,” Murrayton said, his eyes wide with sincerity. “If anyone deserves to enjoy a long and fruitful marriage, it is you.”
* * *
When Stephan returned to his house, warmed by watered-down ale and Murrayton’s good company, the hour was late.
He took a deep breath, gazing at his house with such intensity that a passerby might assume that he had never seen it before.
Stephan swallowed hard, his pulse leaping at the thought of entering that house and seeing Evelina.
Would she be bereft at his absence and relieved at his appearance? Or would she be angry?
Stephan smiled to himself, imagining that it would be the latter.
He envisioned Evelina like a Fury, her face flushed and eyes bright, standing at the threshold and demanding recompense for his leaving.
Stephan tarried only a moment longer. Then, he made the slow walk to the door and opened it, letting moonlight sweep into the otherwise darkened entryway. He inhaled softly.
Evelina was not there; of course, she was not.
The hour was late. She and the servants would all be abed.
His throat was dry, as Stephan thought of Evelina buried beneath the bedlinens, her face softened in sleep.
He was truly wretched for leaving her that morning when she was pliant and gentle from sleep.
For a heartbeat, his courage threatened to abandon him.
Stephan steeled himself and entered the house, his footsteps echoing loudly in the otherwise silent space.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he ascended the stairs, going toward Evelina’s room.
He did not even know what he would say to her, but the urge simply to see her rose inside him so violently that it stole the breath from his very lungs.
When he reached her room, Stephan exhaled loudly and carefully nudged open the door.
He entered, feeling like an intruder in his own house. Stephan decided that he would not wake his wife; he wished only to ensure that she was sleeping soundly in his own house, unbothered by his rejection earlier that morning.
Soon, he was by Evelina’s bed. His heart lodged in his throat as he gazed at the mattress and the bed linens. Empty.
Evelina was gone.
Stephan lowered himself onto her bed, his heart rising and his breath caught in his chest. Evelina had left; of course, she had.
Why would she stay when he had made her feel unwanted and unappreciated?
His chest was tight. Evelina had told him that she had spent a good portion of her life convinced that she was unlovable and unwanted, and he had abandoned her.
Stephan had proven himself to be just like every other man in her life. He had abandoned her, and Stephan did not know if he would ever be able to forgive himself for that.