Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Heart pounding, Evie exited the ballroom onto the back terrace.
She grabbed a lantern from the stand by the doors, then raced down the steps into the manicured hedgerows.
Fortunately, the threat of rain kept the guests inside, and she hurried along without interruption as rising winds scattered leaves and debris.
It was a quarter to midnight; she had barely enough time to meet the blackmailer’s demands.
With each step, she felt the weight of her mama’s pearls concealed in her skirts.
A tear leaked, rolling down her cheek before she could stop it.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You must do what needs to be done. You must save James from scandal…even if you cannot save your marriage.
The image of James waltzing with Lady Vernon blazed in her head.
Their dance had delayed her exit. She’d halted in the shadows by the terrace door, unable to tear herself away while her husband danced and enjoyed another woman’s attentions.
To be fair, Lady Vernon had been doing most of the flirting, but James had asked her to waltz.
He didn’t ask me. He barely spoke to me at the ball.
The wall was between them again, more insurmountable than ever.
Even worse, she had only herself to blame.
When he’d given her that priceless necklace as a symbol of their second chance, she’d simply…
frozen up. Guilt, shame, and despair had paralyzed her.
She’d resorted to pretending nothing was wrong, because how could she tell her husband, who was speaking of love and happiness, that she was about to pay off a blackmailer who knew she was a murderess?
She didn’t know if James would give her another chance.
Right now, she couldn’t worry about it. Couldn’t worry about anything but protecting him from the most imminent threat.
As she and Harkness had planned, the latter was making excuses for her at the ball.
If anyone inquired, Harkness would say that she’d gone to the retiring room or come up with some other pretext to explain her absence.
Evie left the garden, heading toward the wooded area behind the property.
She spotted the gamekeeper’s cottage hidden amidst the oak and beech trees, her lamp illuminating the higgledy-piggledy silhouette of its thatched roof.
Xenia and Ethan had recently restored the building, and although Evie had never been inside, she knew Owen sometimes stayed there because he liked the privacy.
Wind rustled through the woods as she continued past the cottage toward her destination.
A snapping twig made her start; when she whipped her head in the direction of the sound, she saw glowing, unblinking eyes…
an owl. Exhaling, she forced her feet to keep moving.
Drops of rain hastened her pace, and she arrived moments later at the stone wall.
The lantern’s light licked over the row of wet stones, and one gleamed, white as bone and bare of moss.
Setting down the lamp, she gripped the slick rock.
It shifted readily; beneath was a gap, just as the note had described.
She took out the velvet pouch that held her mama’s heirloom; pressing it briefly to her lips, she placed it into the hiding place and slid the rock over it.
Before she could change her mind, she grabbed her lamp and began the trek back.
As luck would have it, the sky spilled over.
She dashed wetness from her cheeks as the teeming rain turned her gown into a sodden mess.
She had no idea how she would explain her bedraggled state back at the ball.
By the time she reached the gamekeeper’s cottage, water was coming down in sheets, and her lamp had gone out.
She had no choice but to take refuge. Finding the cottage door unlocked, she felt a surge of relief.
She entered the rustic abode, flickering with shadows, and smelling of linseed oil, smoke, and peat. Seeing the figure standing at the blazing hearth, she halted.
“J-James,” she stammered.
His damp hair curled on his forehead, and his eyes were bright with righteous fire.
“No more lies,” he said grimly. “I will have the truth or, by God, I am done.”
As he confronted his wife, James realized that he’d never been this angry. Self-control had never been a problem for him, but right now he wanted to drive his fist into a wall—better yet, into the face of the bastard she was meeting.
How could I be such an idiot?
Twice now, when he’d married Evie and during their recent reconciliation, he’d believed that they would overcome all odds.
He’d thought that love would be theirs at last…
that the years spent building a proper foundation, allowing things to unfold in their own time, had not been wasted.
He’d striven to be a patient and supportive husband. And his reward?
The knowledge of her betrayal would have crushed him if he allowed it. Instead, he used his molten rage to forge pain into armor. This time, he would not be swayed by her lies.
Enough is enough.
“Who were you going to meet here?” he demanded. “Who is he, Evie?”
She blinked at him. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
Her hair hung in wet tangles around her face, and her eyes were huge in her pale face. She looked like a bedraggled orphan, alone and afraid—
Afraid of being caught in the act. The duplicitous bitch.
“Stop lying.” He bit out the words. “The game is up. Why else would you sneak out of a ball and show up here? I knew you were up to something—you’ve been acting strangely for weeks.
That night, when you came home late and lied about being in the greenhouse, I suspected you had taken up with some bounder.
Yet like a witless dupe, I believed your excuses.
I thought that whatever you might have been up to, you were not capable of infidelity.
When you told me you were still grieving our lost babe, I believed that too. ”
“That wasn’t a lie,” she whispered. “I do grieve—”
“Grieve?” he said mockingly. “You are not capable of feeling—of caring about anyone but yourself. Clever of you, by the by, to feign jealousy over Lady Vernon when you, yourself, were engaged in adultery. When I saw you leave through the terrace, I knew you had something nefarious planned. Unfortunately, the dance detained me, and you had a head start. Then I thought of this cottage—the perfect place for a tryst. I was surprised when you were not here; did you get lost in the storm? I assume that is what prevented your lover from showing up as well. No matter, I shall deal with him soon enough. Now I will have the bastard’s name before I decide what to do with you. ”
“Please, it’s not what you think,” she pleaded. “I would never betray you—”
“Give me his damned name.”
She jerked at his roar but held her ground.
She took a shaky breath while he clenched and unclenched his hands, struggling for self-control.
His gaze shot to the door when it suddenly rattled…
but it was only the raging storm. He almost wished it were his wife’s lover—then he would have the satisfaction of tearing his rival limb from limb.
“I…I don’t have a lover.” Evie licked her lips. “I swear upon my honor—”
“Your honor,” he said bitterly. “Do you think that means anything to me now? You have destroyed everything I thought unshakeable. Everything I held dear. It is over between us, and there is no going back. Tomorrow, you will return to Grove Hall. I will stay here until I figure out a permanent solution for our living arrangements.”
“P-permanent solution?”
“I want you out of my sight. If I had my way, Evie, I would never see you again.”
Even through his shield of anger, he felt piercing anguish.
How could she have done this to me—to us? She treated our marriage like a tot treats a toy. She smashed it to smithereens for sheer pleasure.
The heat in his chest was matched by the heat behind his eyes. By Jove, he would not unman himself. He would not give her the satisfaction of knowing the wound she’d inflicted.
“James.” Her eyes, big and deceptive, beseeched him. “I never…I never wanted this.”
“You don’t wish to tell me his name? Fine. I shall find out another way.” He couldn’t bear to be in her presence a moment longer. “Goodbye, Evie.”
He strode past her.
“Wait,” she choked out.
Unwilling to hear more lies, he reached for the doorknob.
“I’m not having an affair. I…I am being blackmailed.”
Her heart raging louder than the storm, Evie waited for James’s response. He remained where he was, his hand on the knob, his shoulders rigid. When he said nothing, she realized that he was waiting—was still poised to leave her…for good. To cut her out of his life with a surgeon’s precision.
You have nothing to lose. He despises you. At least let him do so for the right reason.
Her pulse jittering, she forced herself to finish what she started.
“It began a few weeks ago. Someone left me a note in the greenhouse. He knows—I believe it is a man—a secret about my past. He is threatening to expose it if I do not pay him. I did, once. That time I lied to you about being in the greenhouse, I was at the folly. Delivering the hundred sovereigns he demanded.”
Slowly, James pivoted.
“Tell me you are joking,” he said.
She shook her head.
“You risked your goddamned neck—no, we’ll get to that.” He pinned her with a burning gaze. “What hold does he have on you? What is this secret?”
“You will hate me,” she whispered.
“You will tell me. Now.”
Fear had an icy grip on her throat. Despite everything she’d survived, she’d never been as afraid as she was now: this moment when she would have to bear her husband’s judgment. Her hands were shaking, and she twisted them together as she forced out the truth.
“I killed my stepfather. I…I am a murderess.”