Chapter Twenty-Seven
That morning, Evangline woke to sunlight filtering through the curtains. The sounds of Blackwood Hall awakening around her were comfortingly familiar, and yet, an odd weariness lingered in her limbs, as though she had slept poorly despite having no memory of a restless night.
She remained beneath the covers for several minutes, staring at the canopy overhead while attempting to summon the energy to rise.
Eventually she attributed the feeling to fatigue.
The previous weeks had been emotionally exhausting. Anthony's injury, Nathaniel's disappearance, and the constant strain of uncertainty surrounding the future would have drained anyone.
Even so, the uneasiness persisted.
When her maid arrived to assist her dressing, the scent of lavender water unexpectedly turned her stomach. The sensation was brief but unmistakable.
Evangeline frowned.
That's never happened before.
By breakfast, she found herself picking at food she normally enjoyed. The sight of eggs proved surprisingly unappealing, while even her tea seemed stronger than usual.
Mrs Dearwell noticed immediately. "Are you feeling quite well, Your Grace?"
Evangeline forced a smile. "Perfectly."
The housekeeper looked unconvinced. Evangeline herself was not entirely convinced.
The strange sensation followed her throughout the morning.
While reviewing correspondence in the morning room, she found herself distracted.
During a meeting with the schoolmistress regarding supplies for the village children, her concentration wandered repeatedly.
It was not until shortly after noon, as she sat in the small library, that the realisation struck.
Could it be?
The thought arrived so suddenly that she nearly dropped the book she was holding.
She worked it through in her head, mentally counting backwards through the weeks, a frown creasing her brow. She had not entirely missed a monthly course. There had been bleeding several weeks earlier, but it had been unusually light and had lasted scarcely more than a day or two.
Evangeline had been so upset by her last course that she had believed it had stopped due to stress.
A strange feeling settled in her stomach.
Was it truly my course at all?
Outside the windows, summer sunlight illuminated the gardens while somewhere in the distance she could hear the faint sound of gardeners at work.
Yet all her attention remained fixed upon a single possibility. Her heart began to pound. A hand drifted unconsciously to her abdomen.
The gesture felt foolish. Nothing had been confirmed, and most likely she was simply mistaken. Even so, hope unfurled inside her before she could stop it.
Hope, and fear.
Because if she was carrying Anthony's child, everything would change. The purpose of their marriage would have been fulfilled.
Blackwood's future would be secured and Anthony would finally have the heir he needed.
The thought should have brought nothing but happiness. For months, this had been the goal, the very reason she had agreed to become his wife. So why did the realisation leave her feeling terrified?
The answer came immediately.
Because of the agreement. The arrangement they had made in that antechamber on the night of the ball, when Anthony had promised her freedom once she conceived.
At the time, the offer had seemed generous beyond measure. She would have financial independence. Her family would be secure. She could spend her days exactly as she pleased.
The prospect had once sounded wonderful. Now it felt unbearable.
Evangeline rose from her chair and crossed toward the window.
The gardens stretched below, vibrant beneath the summer sun, and a painful ache settled in her chest. Because she no longer wanted freedom. Not if it meant leaving him.
Months ago she had dreamed of independence in the countryside. She had imagined reading novels beside quiet fires and wandering the moors whenever she pleased.
Now every version of that future felt incomplete and empty, because Anthony was not in it.
***
By the time Rosalind arrived that afternoon, Evangeline had worked herself into such a state of
anxiety that she scarcely knew what to do with herself.
The moment her sister entered the drawing room, she knew something was wrong.
Rosalind removed her gloves and immediately frowned. "What has happened?"
Evangeline attempted a smile but the effort failed entirely. "Nothing."
"That expression generally means the opposite."
Evangeline hesitated. For a moment, she considered saying nothing.
Then she remembered she had never successfully hidden anything from Rosalind in her entire life.
"Come with me."
A short while later, they were seated together in the privacy of Evangeline's sitting room.
Rosalind waited patiently as Evangeline twisted her hands together.
"I think I may be pregnant."
For one heartbeat Rosalind simply stared. Then she gasped.
"Oh my goodness."
Before Evangeline could react, her sister had crossed the room and wrapped her in a fierce embrace.
"Oh, Evangeline."
The warmth and excitement in Rosalind's voice nearly brought tears to her eyes.
"I do not know for certain."
Rosalind pulled back slightly. "But you think it is possible?"
Evangeline nodded, and a smile spread across her sister's face. "Oh, imagine it."
"Rosalind—"
"A baby." Rosalind ignored her entirely. "A little duke or lady."
Evangeline laughed despite herself. "You are getting ahead of things."
"I absolutely am." Rosalind resumed pacing. "We shall need a nursery."
"There is already a nursery."
"Excellent."
"We do not even know if I am with child."
Rosalind waved away the objection. "Details."
For several minutes she enthusiastically discussed names, nurseries, and future family celebrations. Under any other circumstances, Evangeline would have joined in. Instead, a familiar heaviness lingered inside her.
Eventually, Rosalind noticed, and her smile faded.
"Evangeline." She sat beside her once more. "What is it?"
The question shattered the fragile composure Evangeline had been maintaining all day. She looked down at her hands. "If I am pregnant..." Her voice faltered.
Rosalind's expression softened. "The agreement."
Evangeline nodded. "When we married, I thought it sounded wonderful." She stared out the window. "I thought I would have everything I wanted." She exhaled shakily. "At the time, it had seemed enough, but now I do not want to leave him."
Rosalind reached for her hand, and Evangeline swallowed hard.
"I used to dream about having my own home. My own independence. Now the thought of leaving Blackwood..." She laughed shakily. "I would rather remain childless than lose him."
The admission hung heavily between them.
Rosalind squeezed her fingers. "Oh, Evangeline."
For a long moment neither spoke.
"Do you love him?" Rosalind asked.
Evangeline closed her eyes, although the answer required no thought whatsoever.
"Yes." The single word seemed to echo through the room. "I love him."
Saying it aloud made it feel even more real, even more terrifying. Rosalind remained quiet for a moment.
"Perhaps you are assuming the future before it arrives."
Evangeline frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that Anthony may not want the same arrangement anymore."
"He has never said that."
"No." Rosalind tilted her head thoughtfully. "But people change."
Evangeline looked away. The problem was that she wanted to believe it, desperately.
Yet hope felt dangerous. Because Anthony had never given voice to feelings beyond affection and respect.
He had never spoken of love and never suggested altering their agreement.
And there was something else, something smaller, perhaps, but no less painful.
"He still will not kiss me."
Rosalind blinked, the abrupt change in subject clearly catching her by surprise.
"What?"
Evangeline felt heat rise to her cheeks. "It is foolish."
"It is not foolish."
"He has never kissed me."
The words sounded absurd once spoken aloud. Particularly considering everything else they had shared. Yet the absence of that simple gesture continued to trouble her. Because kisses meant something. A great deal, perhaps. More than desire, but tenderness and affection… Love.
Anthony had always drawn that line. Always maintained that one distance between them.
Rosalind was silent for several moments, and then she sighed.
"Men are idiots."
Evangeline laughed. "There is your wisdom?"
"There are years of observation behind it."
Her sister squeezed her hand once more. "For what it is worth, I think you should trust what you see rather than what he says."
Evangeline frowned. "What does that mean?"
Rosalind smiled. "It means I have watched that man look at you."
The warmth in her sister's voice made her heart ache.
"And?"
"And no one has ever looked at me that way."
For the first time all afternoon, genuine hope stirred inside her. It was a small, fragile feeling, but it was there, and she only wished she possessed the courage to believe it.
***
After Rosalind departed, Evangeline found herself incapable of remaining indoors.
The conversation lingered in her mind long after her sister's carriage disappeared down the drive.
Hope and fear seemed to have become hopelessly entangled.
One moment she found herself imagining Anthony's reaction if she told him she might be carrying his child.
The next, she was remembering every clause of the agreement they had made on the night they met.
By late afternoon, the walls of Blackwood Hall felt too confining.
She exchanged her slippers for walking boots and escaped outdoors.
The summer day was warm without being oppressive. Sunlight spread across the rolling landscape while a gentle breeze stirred the tall grasses along the paths. Evangeline followed one of the familiar routes through the estate, allowing her feet to carry her wherever they pleased.
The countryside had always soothed her. Even before her marriage, she had found comfort in open spaces and quiet places where she could think.
Today, however, her thoughts refused to settle.
Again and again, they returned to Anthony.