Chapter 18
“Iam so glad we ran into one another,” Elara stated.
Seated across from her, Damien gave his usual stone-faced nod as he leaned forward to accept the cup of tea she held out for him. They sat on opposite ends of her dusky blue velvet couch, and their tea was just being served.
“A happy coincidence indeed,” Damien agreed. “Your brother will be pleased to know that you appear in good health.”
Elara offered him a small smile as she stirred her tea. Regarding her physical health, yes, she was fine. However, even after spending the afternoon talking with Caroline about everything she had learned about Evander so far, her spirits still felt quite low.
It was as she was leaving Caroline’s house that she and Damien unexpectedly ran into each other. Happy to see a familiar face, Elara quickly accepted his offer to escort her home, and she invited him to tea.
Perhaps only he can give me the answers I seek about Evander.
“You are well, are you not?” Damien asked, giving her a speculative look.
“It is not my health that I am worried about, Damien, but my brother’s,” Elara replied.
Damien chortled.
“Adrian is still livid over your situation, but I assure you, he is fine. Bridget keeps his temper in check, and he is focused on the things he can control,” Damien told her.
“I am glad for that, but it is not Adrian I am referring to,” Elara said, setting her teacup on the table. “It is Evander.”
Damien choked on his tea.
“What about Evander, Elara?” he asked. “Do you miss him?”
“Every day,” she confessed. “However, that is not what I mean. I am starting to realize that what I thought I knew about my brother is actually very little. He seems to have done a lot of damage to many people here in London. Or so I am told.”
Damien cleared his throat as he, too, abandoned his tea and set it carefully on the small table before them.
“I know you are a dear friend to both my brothers, Damien, but I need you to tell me the truth. Is Evander a bad person? Has he hurt people?”
A look of sympathy passed briefly through Damien’s otherwise cold gaze.
“That is an incredibly complicated question to answer, Elara. Perhaps far more complicated than you may understand,” Damien replied.
Elara stiffened at his words, then frowned. They had always seemed to keep her away from the things they did. Even when Adrian and Damien were investigating Evander’s death, she was kept in the dark about it all. It was growing tiresome, especially now that she believed her brother to be alive.
“Why is it that you and my brothers think I lack intelligence?” she demanded. “Is it just because I am a woman? Is it because I am younger? I could have helped if you had just let me!”
“Elara, no,” Damien quickly insisted, his posture growing more tense as he scooted closer to her. “No one thinks that of you, trust me.”
“Then what is it?” Elara asked with exasperation. “Why will no one even speak to me about him?”
“Because Evander was a... complicated man,” Damien answered. Then he grimaced as his eyes resumed their cold nature. He murmured something under his breath, something Elara was sure was a curse of some sort.
“Adrian would have my head if he knew we were having this conversation,” he then said. “Why can you not just trust that some things have remained private for your own protection?”
“But, why?” Elara insisted, growing more frustrated by the moment. “What is it that he has done that would put me in the danger the three of you allude to?”
Damien’s dark brows furrowed.
“The three of us?” he questioned.
“Yes. You, Adrian, and now Constantine. He will only tell me that Evander ruined his younger brother Augustus, nothing more,” Elara stated.
Damien’s brows drew up in surprise.
“Well, it seems Adrian might have a reason to like Constantine after all,” he murmured.
Frustrated, Elara tsked her tongue and pushed Damien’s shoulder.
“I deserve answers, Damien, you know I do,” she insisted. “I am not fragile like Mama. I can handle the truth.”
Another flicker of pity moved through Damien’s eyes. She was starting to hate it.
“Tell me this at least,” she sighed. “Do you think that it is possible that I am right? That he may possibly still be alive?”
“In my personal opinion? Yes. There was no body recovered. No body that the constables or the coroner would allow your brother to identify, anyway.”
A flutter of hope moved through Elara’s chest, and she reached out to place her hands over Damien’s.
“Then please. If you believe I am right, talk to me. Tell me something about Evander,” she pleaded.
As Elara looked at the rugged, handsome planes of the man she had come to love like a third brother, she realized she had never seen him so uneasy before. What secrets did he hide? What cruel deeds had he witnessed Evander commit?
“I will say this, Elara,” Damien began after a moment.
“Evander had a very strict moral compass—one that most society men ignore. As noblemen, there are certain laws that such men feel they can overlook because of their breeding. Evander participated in some, yes, such as gambling. However, there were others—many others—that he took great offense to being broken. Laws that, as the authorities looked the other way, Evander refused to do so, and would take matters into his own hands.”
Elara’s eyes narrowed as she took in Damien’s words.
“You make him sound as if he were some sort of vigilante,” she replied.
“In a way,” he acquiesced. “However, the nobles have their own unwritten laws, and how Evander acted broke many of them. It earned him many enemies. Dare I say more enemies than friends by the time he... went missing.”
Though Elara was grateful Damien made the distinction between dead and missing, she was still unsatisfied.
“I feel as if you are speaking in riddles,” she said in an exasperated tone.
“And I feel that I have already said too much,” Damien stated, rising from his seat.
Elara rose as well, ready to grab his arm and demand he stay. Before she could even get to her feet, however, she felt a warmth prickle over her neck, and the air in the room shifted.
“Please, Ravenshaw,” Constantine’s deep voice filled the room. “Do not leave on my account.
Elara jumped to her feet and whirled, only to find her husband standing in the doorway, his expression as dark and angry as a storm cloud.
“Your Grace,” Elara whispered.
Butterflies erupted in her stomach the moment she saw him.
Even when angry, he was still annoyingly handsome.
He had taken off his jacket and cravat, leaving him in a plain white dress shirt.
The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms, and the top buttons were undone, exposing a deep V of bare, muscled flesh and a tuft of brown hair for all to see.
She bit her bottom lip, surprised by how much she enjoyed such a sight.
“No need,” Damien answered, staring hard back at Constantine. “I was just taking my leave.”
“Such a late hour for visitors, is it not?” Constantine asked, strolling into the room.
The butterflies in Elara’s stomach ceased at once, replaced quickly with annoyance.
“Damien and I bumped into one another as I was leaving Caroline’s,” she stated icily. “He was kind enough to walk me home. I offered him a cup of tea for his trouble.”
Constantine furrowed his brows and smirked as his gaze shifted from her to Damien.
“How chivalrous of you, Ravenshaw,” Constantine stated. “Here I was fearing for my wife’s whereabouts when you knew where she was all along.”
Elara gritted her teeth and glared at Constantine. She had thought that their stay in the cottage had created an understanding between them. She had been wrong. He was still a cad.
“What are you implying?” she demanded.
“I would be careful how you answer, Ashworth,” Damien warned, staring challengingly into Constantine’s eyes. “Elara is like family to me, and I will tolerate no disrespect to her name.”
“Oh, of course not,” Constantine scoffed. “We must not create further ruin to the Mason name, should we? Not after all Evander has already done.”
“Watch your mouth, Ashworth.”
“Or what? Are you threatening me in my own home, Ravenshaw? Though you know what they say. Show me your friends and—”
“That is enough!” Elara snapped.
Damien’s eyes drew to her, his usual stony look firmly back on his face.
“I am taking my leave, Elara,” he stated coldly. “But if you wish, I will escort you to Caroline’s or your brother’s for the evening. I understand why you would not want to sleep in a place where you are so clearly disrespected.”
Elara opened her mouth to speak, but it was Constantine’s voice that filled the room.
“You will watch yourself,” he warned. “You do not know the relationship between my wife and me, and I fear you make too many assumptions.”
“Perhaps,” Damien admitted, giving Constantine a steely look. “However, I know that I would never make such insinuations about my wife.”
“Your wife?” Constantine asked with a bitter chuckle. “What wife? Oh, yes, that is right. You have yet to obtain one. Any sensible woman would steer clear of you.”
A feral sound rose from Damien’s chest as he took a challenging step toward Constantine, and as if they were two beasts ready to brawl, Constantine followed by taking a step toward him.
“I said, enough!” Elara yelled, pushing between them. She put a hand on both their chests and thumped, making them both take a step back from one another.
“This is ridiculous, and I demand you both stop at once,” she stated, then turned to Damien. “Damien, I appreciate your kindness and your conversation, but you may go. I assure you that I am fine here.”
Damien glared at Constantine another moment before he shifted his gaze down to Elara. At once, the hardness in his eyes was replaced by concern.
“Are you certain, Elara? Adrian would never forgive me if I did not make sure you were safe.”
Elara rolled her eyes as she clucked her tongue.