Chapter 13
As the manor came into sight, a faint sense of calm settled over Evelyne.
Alaric assisted her and Aurelia from the carriage and accompanied them toward the steps, his nearness a reminder that the danger had passed.
Evelyne’s pace slowed, and soon Aurelia moved ahead.
Her sister glanced back, a trace of worry in her eyes, but held her tongue.
Whatever she perceived was enough. She disappeared through the door, leaving Evelyne and Alaric standing together beneath the gentle glow of the lanterns.
Evelyne turned slowly to face Alaric, and he hesitated before moving closer, as if afraid she might retreat. Something in her gaze must have stirred him, because his blue eyes now carried a sorrowful depth.
“I’m truly sorry for what you have endured, Evelyne,” he said sincerely. “He is a wretched excuse for a man, and I swear to you—he will not escape justice.”
She regarded him for a moment before taking his hands and lifting them to her lips. Her kiss upon his knuckles conveyed what words could not. When her eyes met his again, a single tear slipped free.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Alaric’s expression softened. “Of course, my lady.”
“Please stay a bit longer,” she murmured, turning toward the manor with her hand resting lightly on his arm. She led him forward, and he followed without resistance.
Inside, Evelyne made for the library and shrugged off her overcoat, carefully laying it over an armchair to keep the book she had brought for Cillian from tumbling to the floor.
She eased herself onto the library’s familiar leather couch, its worn cushions embracing her as she sank.
Her body felt heavy with emotion, and the warmth of the room and the crackling fireplace brought little comfort.
Next to her, Alaric settled at the opposite end of the couch, his posture seemingly at ease, though his gaze held a contained intensity.
Moments later, Mauri appeared with steaming refreshments, setting them down gently before retreating.
Time blurred. Evelyne wasn’t sure if minutes or hours passed as they sat there in silence, and her hands still trembled as she cupped her tea.
She hadn’t spoken a word since stepping inside, and Alaric, true to his nature, hadn’t pushed her.
Evelyne glanced at him, noting the attentiveness in his eyes as they lingered on her.
“If you would prefer solitude, I shall take my leave,” he offered softly.
She shook her head. “No. I would much rather you stayed, if it is not an imposition.”
“An imposition?” His lips curved faintly. “Never. I would sooner remain, if only to be certain you are truly well.”
The tension within Evelyne eased, and her eyes remained upon Alaric longer than propriety allowed. Something tender flickered across his face, and the look was enough to startle her from her thoughts. She cleared her throat.
“Will you remain here tonight? With me?” she asked.
His brows lifted slightly. “If that’s what you wish.”
“It is.”
Alaric stood and began unbuttoning his frock coat. As he kicked off his boots and peeled off the heavier layers, Evelyne turned her gaze aside, a blush creeping up her neck.
“Relax, Ev. I’m not stripping down to my undershorts.”
“Oh, hush,” she said, her face growing even warmer. “I was just trying to be polite.”
“No need for that with me,” he said with a roguish grin. “I’m not shy about what I’ve got.”
“My goodness, Alaric, just… go to sleep,” she huffed, turning away and tucking her knees to her chest.
His restless movements caught her attention a few moments later when his feet repeatedly brushed against hers as he struggled to find a comfortable position.
Feeling exasperated and unusually bold, Evelyne stood and crossed the distance between them.
Without a word, she crawled into his arms, her movements slow.
Alaric stilled at first, surprised, but quickly adjusted, lifting his arm to make room for her to settle against him.
The heat radiating from his body enveloped her, and his steady heartbeat soothed her frayed nerves.
His fingers began to graze lightly along her arm, a rhythmic touch that grounded her. You’re safe, his actions seemed to say, though he remained silent until she began to drift.
Before she slipped into a peaceful sleep, he whispered, “He will pay for this.”
Evelyne placed her hand atop his in quiet acknowledgment, a thank you that needed no words.
***
When she woke the following day, Alaric was gone. The faint impression of where he’d slept remained on the couch, and she wondered if he’d left to avoid her reaction. But as she traced the spot where he had been, a small smile crossed her lips.
Evelyne needed to feel clean again. The memory of Ivan’s hands on her, his unwanted touch on her arms, legs, and neck, clung to her like a film she couldn’t wash away.
A wave of nausea hit the moment she reached the bathing chamber.
She barely made it to the basin before vomiting, then slumped onto the cool floor, drained.
Curled up there, she waited for the queasiness to subside, her mind replaying fragments of the night she desperately wanted to forget.
She still couldn’t fathom how Alaric had found her. Had it been luck? Instinct? A protective intuition that had led him to the market at the right moment? She hadn’t asked; the words seemed impossible to form. Yet, beneath the trauma, she was profoundly grateful for his intervention.
Moments later, Seraphine hurried into the chamber—no doubt having heard Evelyne retching.
She didn’t press her with questions, didn’t pry, just began drawing the bath in a comforting silence.
Though Evelyne hadn’t spoken a word of it, the entire household must have known Alaric had stayed the night in the library with her.
Servants always found their ways to notice—and to whisper—but thankfully, none had intruded.
After last night, Evelyne couldn’t bring herself to care about household gossip or her parents’ disapproval.
Nothing mattered now but banishing the horror that still clung to her.
Once the bath was prepared, Seraphine left without a word, closing the door softly behind her.
Evelyne slipped into the steaming water, sinking lower and lower until the heat surrounded her.
She let her head dip beneath the surface, her face fully submerged, shutting out the world and its noise.
Silence wrapped around her like a cocoon, offering a momentary escape from the storm in her mind.
She surfaced for air, inhaling deeply before slipping under again. Each time, she held her breath as long as she could, the ache in her chest becoming a temporary distraction from the pain elsewhere. When she finally sat up for good, her breathing was ragged.
She scrubbed her body again and again, her motions mechanical, the soap working into her skin until her hands burned red.
Arms, shoulders, legs—each part received the same treatment, as if sheer determination could rid her of Lord Bavrick’s touch.
Her skin stung, raw and tender, but she didn’t stop.
Not until exhaustion overtook her, and the water around her was cold.
Only then did she lean back against the tub’s edge, her head tilted toward the ceiling, a tear sliding down her cheek.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet of the bathing room. Evelyne lifted her head from where it rested, her damp hair clinging to her cheeks and shoulders.
“It’s me,” Aurelia’s gentle voice called from the other side.
“Come in,” Evelyne said hoarsely. She didn’t care about her state of undress; modesty felt inconsequential after last night.
Aurelia entered, her presence bright as ever.
She wore a delicate spring dress of soft green, her golden hair swept into an elegant half-up style, her features adorned with just enough cosmetics to enhance her natural beauty.
Evelyne stared momentarily, struck by how her sister always seemed to shine with such radiance.
“Mother asked me to go back to the market today,” Aurelia began, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. “She wants to pick up more decorations for the ball. I thought I’d look at those earrings you liked. Oh, and I never did get a dress last night, so I figured—”
“Aurelia,” Evelyne interrupted. She couldn’t bear to sit through idle chatter, not now.
Aurelia stopped mid-sentence, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“Lord Bavrick found me at the market last night,” Evelyne began, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady. “He pulled me into a hidden alley, and—”
Her fingers clenched the edge of the tub, knuckles blanching as the memory clawed its way back. “Pinned me against the bricks so I couldn’t escape.”
Before she could say more, Aurelia crossed the room in an instant, dropping to her knees beside the tub. “And Alaric found you?” she asked, reaching for Evelyne’s hands.
“Yes,” Evelyne breathed. “He found me—before it got any worse.”
The horror in Aurelia's eyes said enough; she didn’t need details to understand what had happened.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The words undid Evelyne. Tears welled, then fell in a flood as everything poured out—the fear, the anger, the humiliation. Between trembling breaths and quiet sobs, she told Aurelia everything.
“He’s a monster, Evelyne. I’ll not allow our parents to see you wed to him. Mother must be told.”
“No!” Evelyne said, shaking her head fiercely. “I cannot tell her. I cannot tell anyone.”
Aurelia squeezed Evelyne’s hands. “You do not have to say a word,” she whispered. “I will tell Mother. Men like Ivan must not be allowed to go unchallenged—never again. They ought to be punished, or at the very least prevented from taking innocent wives.”
Evelyne stared at her, the phrase go unchallenged echoing in her mind. What did Aurelia mean by that? She caught a flicker of pain in her sister’s eyes, something deeper than sympathy. A slow, cold understanding crept over her.
“Aurelia… has this happened to you?” she asked.
Aurelia hesitated. Then, she spoke softly.
“Not Leopold. Never him. But years ago, a foul man—one much like Lord Bavrick—took something from me. And you know how society is. Women cannot be seen as ruined, not when marriage is their only future.”
Evelyne’s heart broke at the admission. Her perfect, radiant sister had carried her burden of pain beneath a mask of strength and beauty.
“I’m sorry, Aurelia. I never knew.”
Aurelia gave a faint, bittersweet smile. “It’s in the past. Perhaps I shall share the story at another time. Besides, I’ve found happiness now—with Leopold. He makes me feel safe. Loved.”
Evelyne nodded, silently vowing to cherish her brother-in-law for being the light Aurelia needed. Sensing her sister didn’t want to linger on her own story, she said, “Thank you.”
Aurelia stood, retrieving a towel from the nearby rack. She draped it over Evelyne’s shoulders, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face.
“That’s what sisters are for,” she said, giving Evelyne one last reassuring squeeze before leaving.