Chapter Fourteen
“Your Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Steppingford are here to speak with you.”
“Thank you, Danvers,” Michael said as he glanced at the butler from his spot near the windows where he contemplated the Mayfair world outside. For once, it wasn’t raining, but it was overcast. “Show them up.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Once the butler departed, Michael glanced at his wife. “It would appear we’re about to have company.”
“While I’m looking forward to seeing the duchess, I must say I’m a bit put out,” Evangeline said as she closed the periodical she’d been reading.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“I’d hoped to have a few hours of your time this afternoon for… scandalous endeavors.”
Was there no end of surprises from her? “I thought after last night, you would be fully satiated for a bit.” Did it make him a prick to mention that or merely proud of what they’d shared?
There had been a moment during that coupling when he’d convinced himself he could see a future between them, that he might enjoy having a real marriage…
but then passion had carried him away and he tossed out the idea.
Ultimately, he was far too broken, his soul was far too dark to claim that sort of reward.
The look she bestowed upon him had interest shivering along his shaft. “Oh, I will remember that tryst for years to come, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you in other ways.”
He wasn’t given the opportunity to reply, for Steppingford and his wife came into the room. “What brings you here this afternoon, my friend?” he asked while he slowly crossed the floor and extended a hand in greeting.
“Well, my wife wished to call upon your lovely wife, so I decided to come along and have a visit of my own.” Steppingford’s grin was this side of cheeky as he shook Michael’s hand. “You aren’t wearing your customary sling.”
“I am trying to strengthen the muscles, so for a few hours each day, I leave off with it.” Then he glanced at Evvie, who was happily chatting with Steppingford’s wife. “She’s convinced me that, in some cases, they way I’ve been doing things isn’t necessarily the best.”
“Ah.” His friend didn’t say anything else, only observed the ladies.
The sound of their low-pitched giggling was foreign in Michael’s ears.
Eventually, the other man stirred. “Dearest, did you wish to invite Lady Darkemore on an outing? I’m afraid we’ll prove poor company since there is business we need to discuss. ”
“Yes, of course.” The younger woman clutched at Evvie’s hand. “Would you come out to the shops with me? There is something about looking over the wares myself that is more enjoyable than sending a maid. Afterward, we can visit a tea house.”
“That sounds fun. It will be lovely to get out of the house for a bit.” Evangeline stood, with the other woman doing the same. “I shall return by dinner, Michael.” The way she uttered his name sent heat crashing through his chest. “See that you behave until then.”
“I’ll make certain of it, Lady Darkemore.” Steppingford sent him a speaking glance but then bussed his wife’s cheek when she closed the distance. “Take the carriage. I shouldn’t require it while I’m here.”
Lady Steppingford nodded. Her eyes twinkled. “Thank you. Have a lovely visit with your friend. I know how you worry.” Then she exited the room with Evvie at her side. The sound of their chatting echoed in the corridor for a few seconds.
“Why do I feel you have an ulterior motive for paying this call and removing Evangeline from my home?” Michael wandered to the sideboard. When he picked up a decanter of brandy and glanced at his friend, Steppingford nodded.
“No motive, merely wished to have a talk with you in private.” As Steppingford settled his large body on one of the delicate, gilt-legged chairs, Michael brought over a glass of brandy for him.
“Why? You’ve never taken it upon yourself to check on my well-being before, not even when I thought the darkness would take me.
” It might sound harsh, but it was true.
“Not until I was forced into an engagement with Evangeline.” He sat heavily on a sofa near his friend’s location then sipped from his own glass of brandy.
“Fair enough. You always were an observant one.” For long moments, Steppingford rested his gaze on Michael. “How are you getting one with your wife?”
“Well enough. There is a learning curve, of course. She remains guarded in my company.” Unless they were engaged in carnal activity. Then she blossomed beneath his care and persuasion. “Slowly, we are coming to trust and share with each other.”
“That is all to the good, don’t you think?” He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip.
“I don’t know.” In fact, his whole world had been turned upside down with the advent of Evangeline.
Steppingford frowned. “What does that mean?”
Perhaps it was time to be honest, with both his friend and himself. Tossing back half his brandy, he gasped as the burn went down his throat. “I am close to completing my outstanding mission.” In fact, all he needed was an excuse to draw Echerson out. The rest would be easy.
He hoped.
“It’s about damned time, but what has that to do with your marriage?”
Michael glared at the other man. “You know why.”
“Ah, because you married her under false pretenses, lied to her, used her to get close to your quarry?” Steppingford sipped his brandy.
“Does that about cover it?” When he didn’t answer, the other man chuckled as dawning realization came over his face.
“Shit. You are developing feelings for her, which is cocking everything up.”
“There are no feelings.” Adamantly shaking his head, Michael glared. “There can’t be.”
“Why not?”
Hot anger filled his chest. “This fucking marriage won’t last. It isn’t real; it was never supposed to be. Both of us knew that going in, so why should I pretend that it is?”
“Because you wish it to be now.” One of Steppingford’s eyebrows rose in challenge. “What happened to change your mind?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He gulped down the remainder of his brandy.
When his eyes watered, he shook his head.
“It wasn’t one thing, merely a collection of tiny moments.
” And no, he didn’t want to share. They were his treasures alone.
Like the way her eyes sparkled when she discovered something she enjoyed.
The sound of her laughter. The way she stood up to him and wouldn’t let him boss her. He could go on and on.
“Then you want your union to be real?” Confusion lay stamped over Steppingford’s face.
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I have a mission to complete. After that, my purpose in life will be over, and I can go home to Cornwall.”
“To hide.”
“Fuck off, man.”
Steppingford chuckled. “You are a coward, my friend.”
“I beg your pardon, but service to my country has taken so much from me. I rather think that is not the payment a coward would willingly take.” Even as he spoke, his muscles decided to ache and throb.
“No one is doubting your fidelity to your mission.” The other man set his cut-crystal glass on a small ivory-inlaid table nearby.
“What I’m saying is that you have the chance to grasp something equally important, to have the opportunity to have someone by your side and make the remainder of your journey easier, perhaps even happier. ”
He snorted. “That is an impossible endeavor.”
“Why?”
“I’ve already lied to her. I’ve used her.
Hell, I’m not certain we have anything in common outside of carnal play.
” Rubbing a hand along the side of his face, he stared at the other man.
“And if that wasn’t enough, I’m not a good man.
What I’ve done in my past? What I might still prove capable of doing if duty called?
” He shook his head. “I’m haunted by the ghosts of people I’ve killed, I wonder all the time if someone with a grudge will come after me.
I have not a shred of redemption in me because I regret nothing.
” Hearing those things listed out loud made him seem like a monster.
“Not to mention my inability to show emotion, to feel anything. And I look like a troll living under a bridge. No one should be subjected to that.”
“A troll you say?” Steppingford chortled with laughter. “Hardly.”
“Do shut up.”
“What does Evangeline say about it?”
“Of my looks?” Heat crept up the back of his neck. “She doesn’t seem to take exception.”
“No, of your desire to return to Cornwall and obscurity, of your intentions to kill Echerson.”
“I might have mentioned the fact I’d kill the man who injured me, but I never said his name, and I certainly haven’t been honest about any of it.”
“God, Darkemore.” Steppingford shook his head. “Talk to her. Tell her the truth of why you did this.”
“I can’t.” It would destroy everything.
His friend frowned. “Why? If you think you’ll never love her, you need to let her go so she can at least find that with someone else.”
Swift stabs of jealousy went through his chest. “What of me, then?”
“What of you? Clearly, you wish to throw the whole thing out without putting in time or effort into keeping it.” Steppingford shrugged. “Your wife doesn’t deserve that selfishness.”
“I’m trying to keep her safe!”
“Yet starving for love, for acceptance, for belonging? Just as you are searching for?” One of his eyebrows rose in question. “Evangeline can be the best thing for you, but if you continue to be a stubborn arse, no one can help you. Get out of the past, man. You don’t dwell there any longer.”
Michael clenched his teeth so hard a muscle ticced in his cheek. “But...”
“Listen to me, my friend.” Steppingford leaned forward in his chair. He rested his forearms on his knees, let his hands dangle between them. “If you love her, you must tell her who you really are. For better or worse, that is the man you are, the man she married.”
“Love? I didn’t say anything about being in love with her.” Was that necessarily true, though? Was he heading in that direction? Did he want that despite the obstacles?