Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hugo had not slept a wink, anxious for morning to come so he could see Evelyn at breakfast and perhaps catch a moment with her to offer his apologies.
He did not know what had possessed him to behave like that last night, but her running off with that panicked look upon her face was assuredly confirmation that he had insulted her. He had gotten too close to her, too familiar with her, and it had made her flee.
I just wanted you to have the necklace. Ironically, he had not been able to see what the jewelry looked like upon her, for she was out of the room before he could take note of it.
Even now, he likened his actions to suffering from a temporary madness.
The moment she had alluded to the fact that she did not deserve the necklace, or that it should go to someone else, he had not been able to think straight.
It had been akin to anger, but not at her.
Anger that she, of all people, could not see how much she deserved a simple necklace… and more.
He closed his eyes and thought of her unsteady breaths, how she had seemed to shiver when his fingertips had grazed her skin.
Goodness, how he had wanted to kiss her.
It had taken most of his willpower to stop himself from dipping his head and pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck or the ledge of her shoulder as he had fastened the necklace in place.
Maybe it was for the best that she had departed the room when she had, for his willpower had not been quite as strong as he had thought.
Had he walked back around to the front of her and admired the gift, that ‘mark’ of his upon her neck, he doubted he would have been able to refrain from kissing her.
She will be furious with me, no doubt.
He opened his eyes, checked the clock, and pulled on his tailcoat before heading out of the bedchamber. The same bedchamber that Evelyn had barged into without fear or courtesy, breaking a few more of her precious rules.
The breakfast room was filled with the manor’s guests, all making cheerful conversation on their last morning at Ashcroft.
Servants were already beginning to transport belongings to the carriages that were lining up outside, the party coming to an end.
Some of the guests would be heading back to London, while others would be venturing toward their country homes.
“Hugo?” Laurence looked up from the morning paper in surprise. “It is not like you to rise so early.”
Hugo put on a smile, discreetly glancing up and down the breakfast table. “I did not want to miss the last hours of merriment.”
She was not there. Evelyn, who would not have been late to breakfast for any reason, was not there. Why, the morning after she had injured her ankle, she had still been at the breakfast table promptly.
Hugo frowned. Something felt wrong, and not merely because of his behavior last night.
“Your Grace, come and sit beside me,” Selina’s voice called to him above the drone of chatter.
His gaze flitted to her, and though he dearly longed to back out of the room and search the entire manor for Evelyn instead, he took a breath and approached Selina. After all, if anyone could tell him where Evelyn was, it was probably her best friend.
“Would you like some tea, Your Grace?” Selina asked.
“Coffee, I think,” Hugo replied, reaching for the pot himself.
Selina furrowed her brow, clearly annoyed. “I missed seeing you last night,” she tried again. “I thought our music might have drawn you to us.”
“It did not seem appropriate to disturb you ladies,” he said, taking a sip of the weak coffee to wet his dry throat.
“That is… very thoughtful of you.” Selina huffed out a breath.
“I thought, perhaps, we might have our final outing before I return to London. A walk in the gardens, maybe? Or… would you prefer to have our final outing in London itself? I have not yet seen the new play, though I hear it is rather good. Or the botanical gardens, perhaps?”
He had no interest in the final outing whatsoever. He could not even think about it with visions of Evelyn’s hurt and anger swirling around in his mind. She must hate him for the way he behaved toward her, all possessive and out of character.
I could dispense with the outings altogether? he mused, but then he would have two people to apologize to, and since there was just one left, there was probably no point putting an end to it early.
“We can discuss it when everyone is back in London,” he said decisively, taking another sip of the lukewarm coffee. “Where is Evelyn this morning? Are the two of you not usually joined at the hip?”
He hoped he sounded casual, but he could not be certain when his throat was so terribly dry, and his heart was thundering in his chest.
Selina pulled a face and sat back in her chair with a deep sigh. “She has already departed. I barely had the chance to say goodbye to her; her wretched father was in such a rush to get her away from here.”
“Her father was here?” A nasty, sick feeling clawed at the insides of Hugo’s stomach.
Selina nodded. “Apparently, he arrived late last night. That man simply cannot let dear Evelyn have a moment’s enjoyment.” She twisted her napkin as if she were exacting her revenge upon Josiah Bartlett. “He ruined the entire week for her.”
“How so?” Hugo asked carefully, his left eye beginning to blur with the strain of concern.
“Well, he came here at Lord Hemstich’s request,” Selina explained, lowering her voice to a gossipy whisper.
“The man made a proposal of marriage, Evelyn’s father accepted it, and then he scurried her away, back to London, to ‘begin preparations'. Although I believe it was to ensure that she did not run. Not that she would. The poor thing cannot disobey, even if she wanted to; it is not in her nature.”
Oh but it is… when it is not stamped out of her. Hugo felt strangely unsteady, a great ache throbbing behind his eyes and pulsing in his temples.
Was that why she had come to his room to give the necklace back? Had she already known of her fate? He racked his brain, trying to remember every detail of their encounter.
“It is not appropriate when I am expected to marry another gentleman.” The snippet of her words returned to him, his heart sinking like a stone.
She must have known already that her fate had been decided for her.
But why had she not said anything, explicitly?
Why had she not told him of the proposal?
“They are to be wed in a month,” Selina continued, shaking her head.
“I shall attend, of course, but I shall not be happy about it. I may even offer to steal her away beforehand, though I doubt her father will allow me to see her. He does not like me much. Then again, if I can choose a day when just her brothers are at home, perhaps I might have a chance.”
Hugo barely listened as he stared down into his dwindling cup of weak coffee, overcome with a sweeping sense of… dismay. A sentiment he struggled to understand as he swilled the brown liquid around in the cup.
What right did he have to feel like this? What reason? It was not as if he had made any such offer to her or had actually staked any claim to her. Most of the time, it seemed she did not like him at all, so why did it sting that she had accepted another man?
“Excuse me,” he said, rising sharply.
Without another word, he walked out of the breakfast room and headed up the stairs to pack his belongings. Evelyn might have accepted her fate, but Hugo would not be able to rest until he had asked her himself if she was truly choosing Lord Hemstich.
Instead of what? He would not know how to answer that question until he had spoken to her, until he had seen her again and looked into to her eyes, to witness whatever truth existed there.
The journey back to London was not at all as peaceful as the journey to Ashcroft. Evelyn sat on the squabs, tucked into one corner, her wistful gaze watching the countryside go by while her father and Matthew snored in unison.
Luke, seated on her side of the carriage, was the only one awake. And though she was not looking at him, she could feel him observing her, studying her.
“I am sorry we did not get to say a proper farewell to everyone,” he said quietly, surprising her.
She had assumed that the entire journey would be made in silence, at least where she was concerned. Indeed, her father had already warned her that he did not want to hear any complaint about the wedding or the engagement, though she had not even mentioned it.
“They must think us very rude,” Evelyn muttered in reply.
“I shall write and apologize.”
Evelyn turned to stare at him. “It will be you next, you know. You are the heir. You cannot remain a bachelor for much longer.”
“And… I will do my duty when the time comes,” Luke replied hesitantly, his brow and eyes creased as if he were gazing into bright sunlight. “Do you like him?”
“Who?”
Luke paused, glancing at his brother and father to make sure they were still asleep, before continuing, “The baron.”
“Does it matter?” she replied curtly, tired of trying to maintain a facade of docile obedience.
“I… think it does,” he said.
Evelyn shrugged. “I do not know him. What I do know of him has not been particularly encouraging. Any conversation we have had has been stilted and tedious. He has no obvious interest in me aside from my dowry. He intends to be away from home a great deal, so I shall be mostly alone.” She flashed a bitter smile.
“It shall be no different to my life now, except perhaps a little bit lonelier, for my friends will not be close.”
A sadness seemed to weigh down upon Luke’s shoulders, his eyes pained as he looked at her. “I am sorry, Evelyn.”
“You are?” Her lip curled, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to spill in front of him. “Then, let me ask you this: why did you not say anything? Why did you not protest this match?”
“It is… not my place,” Luke replied, his frown deepening.
“Then your apology means nothing.” She turned back around to watch the passing landscape, hating the prickle of new guilt that caught her under the ribs.
He was trying to be nice, trying to be brotherly, and she had just thrown it back in his face.
Had it been any other day, maybe she would have received it with more grace, but on this day, she could not muster the strength to pretend to be anything other than upset, wounded by the manipulations of her family.
But what else could I have hoped for? She rubbed her blurred eyes as a sparrow vanished into a dense hedgerow, heavy with berries.
Spinsterhood? She would not have minded that, but it was as impossible a fate as the one where she somehow ended up with Hugo, safe in his arms, with a lively future of quarreling and making up ahead of them.
Her mind drifted back to Hugo’s bedchamber and the brush of his touch against the nape of her neck. She could still feel it, like a burn upon her skin… just as she could feel the warmed metal of the necklace that she wore beneath a high collar, hidden from questioning eyes.
I will just wear it this once, she had told herself that morning when she had woken to find it still around her neck. When I return to London, I will take it off, put it in a box, and never look at it or think about it again.
No, the baron was the best a woman like her could manage in this life, with the cards she had been dealt. It had been a losing hand from the start.