Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
E zra remained silent as he watched Evangeline look down at the miniature portrait he kept of Luisa in his pocket. Not so much of a reminder of the woman he'd lost, but as a reminder to always remain on guard—or the precious souls who could be taken from him at a moment’s notice. The weight of his past pressed against his chest like a stone, unrelenting, unyielding.
Like the woman before him, who also was now in danger merely because she was associated with him.
But how had she known he carried the miniature? His mind tumbled about with different scenarios before it latched on to one that made sense—the only answer as to what was going on.
Gabriel Rossi.
He was here. In London. And he was the unknown assailant who was after revenge. Everything fell into place. The hatred. The singling out of Evangeline. The woman he supposed Rossi believed he was replacing his sister with.
He could never replace Luisa. She held a special place in his heart all for herself. But that did not mean he did not have room for others in his life. In his future.
He’d thought he’d never care for anyone else ever again. But he was wrong. Now, standing before Evangeline, watching the heartbreak swamp her features at seeing Luisa’s face, he knew he cared for her far more deeply than he ever believed. It wasn’t just guilt that twisted through him now—it was the terrifying realization that losing her might undo him completely.
“Say something,” he said. “Anything, please,” he begged, needing her to speak, if only to move them forward, to repair the damage he’d caused.
She looked up at him, her hand stretched out with the miniature sitting upon her palm. He took it back and slipped it into his pocket.
“That image, that portrait looks as if I sat for a likeness.” She pursed her lips and her eyes welled with unshed tears. “I understand now. I know why you gravitated toward me, just as he said you had.”
The floor beneath him felt unsteady, the ornate ballroom spinning slightly as his certainty fractured. “When did you see him again?” he asked, closing the space between them.
Evangeline moved away, her eyes narrowing in warning. “It doesn’t matter when. But I understand now. You never wanted to be around me for me. You would never have even bothered with me had I not looked exactly like the woman you loved and lost.”
She pushed past him, heading toward the side door of the ballroom, and Ezra followed. She didn’t stop, not even when he called her name.
She reached the end of the passageway and turned toward the front foyer of the house. “Do not follow me, St. George. I do not want to be around you right now.” She stopped so suddenly he nearly collided into her. “In fact,” she said, turning to face him. “I do not want to be around you ever. The betrothal is off. I will not marry a man so obsessed with a woman who is no longer alive that he would marry the only other one who looked like her. How could you?”
Ezra’s chest clenched. Not because she’d refused him—but because he knew she was right.
She turned and fled toward the door and he followed, trying not to make his chase of her through the house obvious to those who lingered outside the ballroom. But he knew their interaction—and the charged energy between them—would be the talk of the ton come morning.
She didn’t wait for his carriage to be called, instead starting across the road and into the park, her direction toward the ducal estate obvious.
“Evangeline, you cannot leave without alerting the duke and duchess of your departure, nor is returning home through the park a wise idea.”
“You’re following me, which is also not a wise idea, and yet we both persist,” she threw over her shoulder.
He bit back a curse and followed, eyes scanning the tree line. Every dark shape and flicker of shadow made his blood run cold. The threat was no longer distant. It was here. And she had just dismissed the one man who could protect her.
It did not take long before they reached the ducal estate. Arriving without notice, no footman came to open the door. Evangeline merely stomped up the steps and opened the door herself. Ezra followed, and upon entering the foyer, ignored the startled glance of the footman and grabbed Evangeline’s hand, dragging her into the library.
“Please do not get angry with me. Everyone has a past, Evangeline. I cannot help that I have had one.”
She rounded on him, her face a mask of hurt. He hated that he’d hurt her. And yet, what could he do? There was nothing to be done, no reasonable answer to her questions that she would accept or that he could give.
“Why are you here? Leave. There is nothing for you here. I’m not Miss Luisa Rossi, no matter how much you wish that I were.”
“Please, Evangeline. I did not offer you my hand because of how similar you appear to Luisa.”
“No?” she asked. “Did you or did you not first notice me, want to be around me because of my appearance and how close it resembles your late betrothed—whom, I might add, you were in love with.”
Her voice broke on the word love and he reached for her, but she slapped his hands away.
“Answer the question, Ezra.”
He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to answer that question—hell, he didn’t want to admit anything that could further tear them apart.
“Evangeline, please.”
“Do not Evangeline please me,” she yelled, startling him. “Was your attraction to me due to how I looked like your late betrothed? Answer the question, my lord.”
Ezra cleared his throat, loathing the answer he was about to voice. “At first, yes. That is true.” Her eyes widened and she took several steps back. “At first, mind. But it has been some weeks since I have seen you for who you are—not just what you look like. Yes, you are similar to Luisa. But there are aspects that are different that I adore. Aspects of your character and heart that have captured mine. Please know that what I say is true.”
She shook her head, her mouth set into a displeased line. “Would you have kissed me, felt drawn to be around me had I not looked like her?”
“No, I would not have. But listen—” he began when she started for the library door. She managed to open it but he was behind her, slamming it shut and pressing her up against it.
“As soon as our lips touched, everything changed. While I drank in the sight of you because you reminded me of my past, the moment I kissed you, I knew you to be you—not her. I want you, Evangeline. No one else. I want to marry you.”
She trembled, and he dipped his head to kiss the arch of her neck. “Please, believe me. It’s you, Lady Evangeline Ravensmere, whom I want to marry. whom I want in my bed, not the past that cannot be undone.”
“But you wish that it could.” She turned and with all the force she could muster, pushed him away.
He stumbled backward and grabbed the wingback chair to stop himself from falling.
“This farce of a betrothal is at an end, and with it goes the risk to my family. I will not marry a man whose sole interest in me was because I reminded him of his dead fiancée.”
Ezra flinched, but he could not blame her. “We’ve been intimate. What if you’re expecting?” he threw at her, desperate to keep her.
“I’m not. I started spotting this morning, and if my cycle runs as it always does, by tomorrow I shall be in full bleed. So do not worry about that.”
“We cannot call off the marriage. The scandal will ruin both families.”
She shrugged and reached for the door. “I do not care. I’m returning to Hampshire—away from you, and away from London. As far as I’m concerned, my lord, you can all go hang.”
With her words, she turned and fled, the door slamming against the wall.
Ezra walked to the door and spied the duke and duchess, no doubt within full hearing of what had just been said.
He watched Evangeline storm up the stairs, disappearing from view. And for the first time in years, the tearing in his chest opened back up to the size of a crevasse—and this time, he feared it would never close.