Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“Wake up, lambkin.”
At the familiar voice, Evie opened her eyes.
Her cheek was pillowed by her folded arms. The pale petals of a wallflower came into focus.
Next to the potted bloom lay the small gold spectacles she used for reading.
The familiar fragrance of damp earth and crisp foliage tickled her nose and confirmed where she was.
She must have fallen asleep while working in the greenhouse again, as she had most nights since leaving James a week ago.
Lifting her head, she winced at the crick in her neck.
“Good morning, Harkness,” she said, yawning.
Her former nurse, now her companion, had always gone by “Harkness.” The absence of an honorific suited Harkness’s no-nonsense style and ambiguous position in the household.
Having raised Evie’s mama and then Evie, Harkness was a retainer whose selfless service transcended that of a common servant.
For years, she’d been Evie’s only family.
Since James had insisted upon hiring Evie a proper lady’s maid, Harkness now functioned as a companion.
Tall and wiry, the latter was like old fencing twisted by time, bending more with each year, yet standing strong.
Her salt-and-pepper hair was scraped back from her forehead and formed into steely springs.
History was deeply etched upon her narrow face, and her black gaze was a vault of confidences.
Stifling another yawn, Evie asked, “What time is it?”
“It is past eight, pet. When you didn’t ring for breakfast, I knew you’d fallen asleep working as usual.” Clucking, Harkness draped the velvet cloak she’d brought over Evie’s shoulders. “How many times have I told you to have a care? You’ll catch your death of cold in this place.”
“Since Manderly hired Sir Paxton and his team to install the new heating system, the greenhouse has been consistently temperate.”
James had built the octagonal building for her, and it was a marvel.
Slender wrought-iron ribs held the glass walls and ceiling in place, creating an ambiance so light and airy that it felt like being outdoors.
Raised boxes and ornamental planters held a variety of plants that Evie grew for study and for pleasure.
She waved now at the row of prized potted Ananas comosus, another gift from her generous husband.
“If an exotic species like the pineapple can thrive in this clime, then a sturdy domestic breed like me will surely survive a night or two.”
Harkness snorted. “Plants are your specialty, lambkin. My specialty is you. I’ve not forgotten that time you caught a chill.
You were barely seven, and those coughing fits wracked your poor wee body.
You couldn’t sleep or keep anything down.
Your mama was terrified that every breath would be your last. She summoned the best quacks in the county, but all they did was stroke their beards and mutter dire predictions. ”
Evie hid a smile, for this story was like a favorite old blanket—one that wore well and comforted, despite its many tellings. Though her four-and-twenty years had been marked by ordeals, it soothed her to know that someone had always looked over her.
“Luckily for me, you knew what to do,” she prompted.
“Aye.” Harkness drew herself up proudly.
“I had the footmen carry up a tub of hot water, and I sat in it, holding you, a blanket draped over the both of us to hold in the steam. I didn’t sleep for two days and nights, until the steam finally cleared your little lungs, and you could breathe freely once more. ”
“What would I do without you?”
Hopping off the stool, Evie fondly squeezed her companion’s arm, which felt like iron encased in black bombazine.
“You’ll never have to find out,” Harkness vowed. “No matter what his lordship has to say on the matter.”
Evie knitted her brows. From the start, James and Harkness had taken an active dislike of each other. Nothing she said or did could change their mutual animosity.
She strove for a neutral stance. “Manderly knows how important you are to me. He wouldn’t dream of separating us.”
In truth, James had been more than patient when it came to dealing with her companion. Harkness could be as prickly and tough as a gooseberry bush when it came to people she didn’t like. Yet with Evie, the tartness of Harkness’s personality was tempered by the sweetness of her care.
“If that were true, his lordship would not have ordered me to stay here instead of accompanying you to Chudleigh Bottoms.” Harkness raised her chin. “I should have been by your side, protecting you. If I had been there—”
“You could not have prevented the kidnapping.” Evie cut her off. “You could not have fought off a gang of cutthroats, dear. You would have been hurt—or kidnapped along with me and Gigi.”
“At least I could have looked after you.”
“Dear Harkness.” Evie’s smile held a touch of wistfulness. “You have always protected me. At some point, I shall have to fend for myself.”
“You’ve been fending for yourself all your life,” Harkness said darkly. “My poor lamb, always prey to the worst of predators.”
The words released a flood of memories. Through force of will, Evie kept them at bay.
Do not think of the past. It is over and done. Remain in control.
This self-directed counsel usually helped her to maintain her composure.
Yet the recent violence had awakened the shadows inside her.
Present and past had bled together in her dreams, and she’d awoken two nights in a row, strangled by screams. Her nightmares were not new; the only time she was free of them was on those rare occasions when James spent the night with her.
But he wasn’t here. He remained at Bottoms House and had sent no word regarding his return. After her curt note and abrupt departure, his indifference was to be expected.
She told herself she’d done the right thing.
Their night of passion had exposed too much—made her want too much.
It was safer to withdraw and put distance between them.
Left to her own devices, she’d been avoiding sleep, focusing instead on work.
Here, encased by glass and greenery, no one would bother her—or hear her sob.
“There, there, now.”
Harkness pulled Evie into a hug as if she were the small girl she’d once been. The familiar, astringent mix of cloves and camphor burned Evie’s nostrils. She allowed herself to be held before pulling away.
“I am fine.” She managed a smile. “There is no need to fuss.”
Harkness sniffed. “Someone must look after you since your husband seems unequal to the task.”
“That is unfair,” Evie said hotly.
Despite her marital woes, she would not allow anyone to attack James.
“Manderly has always protected me. For blossom’s sake, he married me, a nobody, so that I would not have to face the consequences of ruination. More recently, he tracked down the fiends who captured Gigi and me and took a life to save mine.”
She paced, hating that James had been forced to commit violence on her behalf. She brought little enough to their marriage, and the idea of further unbalancing the scales caused a burning in her throat.
“He did what no man of conscience should ever have to do. It pains me greatly, Harkness, that he will have to live with the consequences.”
“Your husband did what needed to be done,” Harkness said crisply. “The only thing he should regret is not getting there earlier. And what was he thinking, letting you return to Grove Hall unaccompanied?”
“That was not his choice. I left when he was sleeping, so don’t you blame him for that.”
Evie stopped pacing, hugging her arms around herself. Fleeing had been cowardly, and she knew it. Yet the notion of facing James after their scorching encounter had overwhelmed her.
“If only you could see yourself, sunflower, how beautiful you are.” His voice had been deeper than she’d ever heard it, his words shockingly wicked—and titillating. “Your petals spread so prettily for my cock, and your bottom is blushing from being taken this way. Do you like it?”
She’d loved it. And she’d been so lost in desire that she’d told him so.
“Yes, yes. Take me harder, James. I want you so badly…”
While James had enjoyed himself—his stamina had been exceptional, even for him—he was not stupid.
He would have questions. He would want to know why she’d never been this wanton before.
Maybe he would accuse her of concealing her true nature.
Maybe, in the light of day, he would be repulsed by the wickedness she tried so hard to hide.
Despite his lapse into carnality, James was a proper gentleman to the core.
Recalling the shameless way she’d begged for his attentions sent a hot wave of humiliation through her.
True, James had seemed as lost in the moment as she’d been: his earthy vocabulary had been entirely, thrillingly at odds with his character.
Yet society harbored a double standard when it came to how gentlemen and ladies should behave, and while James was no hypocrite, he was rather straitlaced.
If Evie were honest, however, she feared his curiosity more than his condemnation.
She couldn’t afford to have him digging into her past. Her secrets were too dangerous—and could compromise his future.
From the start, she’d known she was no good for him, and that conviction had grown stronger as he had begun to pursue his ambitions.