Chapter Nineteen
The weeks that followed passed with a strange mixture of comfort and uncertainty.
Life at Blackwood Hall settled into a rhythm that felt increasingly natural.
Mornings were devoted to estate matters, correspondence, and village visits.
Afternoons often brought meetings with Mrs Dearwell, discussions with Miss Briggs at the school, or long walks through the gardens and surrounding countryside.
Evenings frequently ended in conversation, whether over dinner or before the fire in the library.
From the outside, they appeared to be exactly what society expected them to be. Yet beneath the surface, Evangeline found herself entirely at odds with their relationship.
The more time she spent with Anthony, the harder it became to maintain the emotional distance she had once promised herself.
She looked forward to hearing his footsteps in the corridor and found herself searching for him in crowded rooms.
The days seemed brighter when he laughed and more difficult when he withdrew into himself.
That was the problem.
There were moments when he seemed entirely open with her. Moments when she caught glimpses of the man beneath the title and reputation.
Then, without warning, the walls returned.
The distance returned.
And always, there remained certain boundaries he refused to cross.
Evangeline understood less and less of what he truly wanted. Unfortunately, she understood her own feelings rather well.
Which was considerably more alarming.
That day, she travelled to London to spend an afternoon with her family.
The weather was warm, and Lady Margaret insisted they take tea in the garden behind the townhouse. Roses climbed trellises along the walls while bees drifted lazily among late summer flowers. For a time, the conversation remained pleasantly ordinary.
Daphne entertained everyone with a dramatic account of a gentleman she had recently met and immediately dismissed.
"He quoted poetry."
Rosalind looked puzzled. "That sounds promising."
"He quoted his own poetry."
Rosalind winced. "Ah."
"Exactly."
Lady Margaret laughed behind her teacup.
Eventually, however, Rosalind's attention settled upon Evangeline and a thoughtful expression appeared on her face.
One Evangeline recognised immediately and dreaded.
Later, when the two sisters wandered into a quieter corner of the garden, Rosalind wasted no time.
"You are thinking about him."
Evangeline sighed. "I knew this was coming."
Rosalind smiled. "You are avoiding the question."
"I am not."
They walked slowly along a gravel path bordered by lavender, and for several moments, neither spoke.
Then Rosalind stopped. "Evangeline."
The seriousness in her voice immediately caught Evangline’s attention.
"What?"
Rosalind hesitated. "Have you fallen in love with him?"
The question struck with uncomfortable accuracy. Evangeline looked away. "That is rather dramatic."
Rosalind folded her arms. "Evangeline."
She laughed softly, a nervous sound.
Then Evangeline sighed, because there was no point denying it. "Perhaps."
Her sister raised an eyebrow.
Evangeline stared at the flowers lining the path.
"I think about him constantly." The admission felt both humiliating and relieving.
"I miss him when he is away. And I look forward to seeing him.
I worry when he seems troubled. And every time he smiles at me, I spend the rest of the day behaving like an idiot. "
Rosalind's expression softened. "Oh, Evie."
Evangeline laughed weakly.
"You do love him."
The certainty in her sister's voice left little room for argument.
"I think I do," she said. "And I am certain he cares for me too."
For a moment, Rosalind said nothing, and then she reached over and squeezed her hand.
"I am not surprised," she said. "But you know I must say this."
Evangeline's heart sank.
Rosalind took a breath. "You need to be careful," she said. "Because caring for someone and loving them are not always the same thing."
The words landed heavily.
"I thought you were supposed to be the romantic one?" Evangeline said, trying to lighten the mood. "I do believe in love," her sister replied. "But I am not naive enough to believe that it conquers all, as it does in the novels."
"But people can change," Evangline insisted. "If they truly wish to do so."
"Perhaps," Rosalind said. "But he has spent years building walls around himself."
Evangeline looked away.
"And he still refuses to kiss you."
Heat immediately flooded her cheeks.
"I am not trying to embarrass you," Rosalind said. "I only want you to protect yourself."
Evangeline swallowed.
The trouble was that she was no longer certain her heart could be protected.
Not now.
***
The conversation with her sister lingered in her thoughts long after she returned to Blackwood Hall that evening.
By the time she retired, the house had fallen silent.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains while a faint breeze stirred the fabric.
Eventually exhaustion pulled her toward sleep.
Sometime after midnight, she woke. At first she did not know why.
The room remained dark and quiet.
Then she heard it, a sound from the adjoining chamber.
A strained voice followed by a strangled cry.
Evangeline sat upright immediately and without hesitation, she climbed from bed and crossed the connecting door. The adjoining room was lit only by dying embers in the hearth, and she could see very little.
Then her eyes adjusted, and she saw Anthony lay tangled in the bedclothes. Even in the darkness, she could see the tension in his body. His breathing was uneven and a fragment of a word reached her.
"...Edmund..."
Her heart tightened as she quickly crossed the room.
"Anthony."
There was no response.
She sat carefully on the edge of the bed. "Anthony."
Gently, she touched his shoulder. His eyes flew open. For one disoriented moment, he looked ready for battle. Then recognition appeared.
"Evangeline." His voice sounded rough.
She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing beneath her hand.
"It was a nightmare."
Silence followed, and Anthony looked away first. The shame in his expression startled her, as though he were embarrassed to have been seen like this.
"It's all right," she said softly.
"It is not," he said. "I woke you."
"I do not care about that."
Evangeline moved closer. Not enough to crowd him, but just enough that he would not feel alone.
To her surprise, he did not pull away.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. "The nightmare?"
Anthony said nothing as he stared into the darkness.
"I convinced him to take the assignment."
The words were so quiet she almost missed them.
"He did not want it."
His voice sounded distant, as though he were seeing another place and time.
"I told him it was safer."
Evangeline's heart ached at the pain and grief in his voice. "Anthony—"
"It should have been me." The confession emerged with startling force. "He was the heir." The darkness seemed to close around them. "He was the one who was supposed to come home. He should have inherited Blackwood." His voice broke slightly. "He should have married. Had children. Lived."
For a moment, he sounded less like a duke and more like a man carrying an impossible burden.
Evangeline reached for his hand, and this time, he let her take it.
"You survived."
Anthony laughed once, but it was a hollow sound. "That hardly feels like an accomplishment."
"It is not a crime, either." Evangeline held his gaze. "You loved him, and you miss him."
"Every day."
She squeezed his hand. "Then honour him, by living."
Anthony looked away.
"Everything I have seen since coming here tells me what kind of man you are," Evangeline continued. "And your brother would not want you to go on punishing yourself for something that was not your fault."
His expression tightened.
"Look at what you have built here," she said. "The estate thrives because of you."
Still, he remained silent.
"You have spent years caring for the people your brother loved."
Emotion flickered briefly across his face.
"I think Edmund would be proud of that."
The words hung between them, and for a moment, Anthony simply stared at her.
Then something in his eyes shifted, enough that she knew he had heard her, and the tension slowly left his shoulders.
The room felt quieter, but the darkness was no longer oppressive.
Anthony remained beside her, his hand still loosely entwined with hers.
For the first time since she had known him, he seemed willing to lean on someone else and to share the weight.
And when sleep finally returned, Evangeline knew it would come gently.
Not because his burdens had vanished, but because, for once, he did not have to carry them alone.