Chapter 29
Stephan went to Evelina’s bedchamber first. It was a habit that he had developed over the past week.
His wife had been sick, so he had taken to joining Evelina at her bedside every evening.
It was not because he cared for her; Stephan was not some gallant man burning from lovesickness for his wife.
He was simply a decent man. A husband had a duty to care for his wife, after all.
Evelina was not in her bedchamber, though. Nor was she in the gardens or the drawing room. Stephan supposed that meant his wife was well again. At last, he conceded defeat. He spied Nathanial near the drawing room. Seeing him, the butler bowed. “Your Grace,” he said.
“Have you seen the duchess?” Stephan asked without preamble.
Nathanial chuckled. “Ah, yes. She is in the kitchens, Your Grace. I must say that, er, it is not my business, of course, but Jeremiah—”
“Who?”
Nathanial cleared his throat. “Your cook,” he said. “He is rather vexed at being forced from his kitchens.”
“Forced from them?” asked Stephan, lifting a brow. “For what purpose?”
“Because the duchess wishes to bake a cake,” Nathanial said. “It is…”
Stephan stared at Nathanial, as he left the thought unfinished. He was certain that he heard the words, but Stephan found it difficult to believe them. Duchesses did not bake cakes. They did not bake at all!
“She is baking a cake,” Stephan echoed.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Stephan felt as if he had left his own body. He did not know whether he ought to be impressed at Evelina for continuing to startle him, for being so utterly brazen, or if he ought to be frightened of what mischief she might have crafted in his kitchens.
“I shall go see her,” Stephan said, his voice strangled.
Nathanial smiled awkwardly, a sentiment which Stephan understood well.
He walked through the foyer and to the kitchens.
As he made his way down the familiar steps, he heard the sound of light, feminine humming.
The warm, sweet scent of honey and butter filled the air.
Stephan’s mouth watered. A duchess baking was inconceivable, but that she might have produced such a delectable-smelling cake seemed utterly impossible.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs. In the center of the kitchen was a large table, empty save for a golden-colored cake covered in a thin layer of sugar.
His wife was bent over it, a white apron thrown over her lilac gown.
His eyes swept slowly over her delicate form, from her lovely hair bound up in ringlets and pearl-tipped pins.
She was bent over, adjusting the position of the cake on a silver tray, and her swan-like neck was shown to its best effect.
He imagined what it would be like to press his lips to her thundering pulse.
From there, Stephan would trail kisses to her shoulder and slip that sleeve down her arm.
He inhaled, breath thundering in his chest. Would tonight be when she finally succumbed to him? Stephan dug his nails into his palms, gripped in a fantasy of what it might be like to approach her from behind and seduce her right there.
Evelina turned and saw him. She jumped and let out a small, musical laugh. “I did not hear you enter!”
Stephan crossed his arms and slowly approached her. “Since when do duchesses bake cakes? Or do cooking of any kind?”
“Since me,” Evelina said proudly. “Do you wish to try it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Evelina retrieved a knife and two plates. Stephan watched, noting the practiced ease with which she managed the knife. “You have done this before,” he said.
“Of course,” she replied. “Many times.”
“This will be the first time I have eaten something made by a duchess,” he said.
Evelina smiled slyly and offered him the plate of cake. “Enjoy.”
Stephan took the plate and ate a bit of the cake. Honey and sugar melted on his tongue, blending together exquisitely. He doubted that his own staff could produce something so exquisite, and he stared at Evelina, trying to understand why she was so gifted.
He swallowed. Only his curiosity was stronger than his desire to take another bite. “Where did you learn this?”
“From my cook, of course,” she said with a laugh.
“Most ladies in the ton do not care to learn from their cooks,” he said.
“That is because most ladies are taught that they must behave properly every minute of every day,” Evelina replied. “Once, I also believed that.”
Stephan took another bite of the cake and fixed her with a considering look. “What happened?”
“Well,” Evelina said slowly. “I don’t suppose it was one thing.
I saw my mother’s life and her marriage, and she seemed like a stranger in her own home sometimes.
She and my father had a tumultuous marriage.
He did not treat her with the respect and dignity that a woman deserves, and that hurt my whole family. I never wanted for that to be my life.”
It was another piece to the puzzle that was Evelina, and knowing that she had resolved to be different—had devoted herself to it—made his admiration for her grow.
“My mother managed to divorce my father,” Evelina continued. “I am so very proud of her for that. I never thought she would, and there has been—well—the expected scorn because of it. She looks happier, though. I think she will manage fine, given time.”
Stephan nodded. He took another bite of the cake and realized, to his surprise, that he had eaten the entire thing. “That is good,” he said. “She sounds like a remarkable woman.”
Evelina smiled. “She is.”
Stephan set his plate aside. Evelina took a bite of her own cake, a knowing look in her eye. It was as if she was well aware of how talented a cook she was, and she fully intended to bask in the moment of her victory.
“I never knew my mother,” Stephan said, “but she was said to be an extraordinary woman. I wish I had known her.”
Evelina looked as if she was deliberating something. “I know that your father loved her,” she said at last. “Mrs. Newbury said that your father was devastated by grief when she passed. I am very sorry to hear that.”
Stephan sighed deeply. “I am surprised she knew that, being new to the household.”
Evelina smiled slyly. “You must realize that servants gossip with one another. I am told it is their favorite pastime. It is not so surprising to learn that one of them would be interested in the arrival of a new duke.”
Stephan supposed that was true, but the thought that the servants might be watching and listening to him, talking about him, filled him with a dark dread. What else were they saying? Worse, was his staff gossiping about him, spreading rumors to his grandmother?
“I suppose you are right,” Stephan begrudgingly admitted. “What else have they told you?”
“That your father loved you very much,” Evelina said, her face softening. “But he was broken by grief, which made him seem cold at times. I am so very sorry about that.”
Stephan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
He should have realized that Evelina would say something like that.
Of course, someone would have given her the charitable interpretation of his father’s behavior.
“He was,” Stephan admitted. “I feel like I never really knew who he was because his grief was so great, and I—I wanted to know him. I wanted to be close.”
Evelina’s face was soft with sympathy, and Stephan’s resolve cracked. He had always tried to keep all the pain of the years buried deep inside himself, but Evelina inspired an openness which he seldom acknowledged within himself.
“It is clear how he really felt, though,” Stephan said. “If he truly loved me, he would not have found me so lacking. He would not have felt the need to add that ridiculous stipulation to my inheritance.”
Evelina furrowed her brow. She set her plate aside and seemed suddenly as if she was uncertain what to do with her hands. “Have you considered the possibility that your father did not agree with the stipulation?” she asked. “Or that it was not his decision to have it?”
Stephan snorted. “Of course, it was not his decision. Doubtlessly, my grandmother wished to add that stipulation to the contract, and my father readily agreed. I doubt he even argued.”
“But how do you know?” Evelina asked. “It just sounds—a man who was so consumed by grief—”
Stephan crossed his arms. “Evelina,” he interrupted. “I do not know why you—why does it matter? Regardless of how or why he agreed to that stipulation, the result is the same. I am bound by it.”
“Not if the signatures were forged,” Evelina argued. “Have you considered that?”
Stephan shook his head. “Why would I consider that? There is no evidence that the contract is illegitimate.”
“It occurred to me,” Evelina said. “You have every reason not to trust the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury. Is it so unbelievable that she might have manipulated the contract in her favor?”
“No,” Stephan said. “But forgery? That is an absurd claim, Evelina. Besides, you did not know my father. He could be a cruel and petty man, and I find it entirely believable that he would add such a stipulation. Even at his best, he barely wanted to talk to me.”
“You became an admiral in the navy,” Evelina said. “If he loved you as much as Mrs. Newbury said, he would have been proud—”
“Mrs. Newbury did not know my father either!” Stephan exclaimed. “Evelina, I do not understand where you are drawing these conclusions from, but you are making something out of nothing.”
Evelina’s face reddened. “I am raising a possibility. There is something strange about this entire situation, and my instincts are telling me that it is something you should be fighting.”
“Your instincts about a man you never met!” Stephan exclaimed, raising his voice just a little.
Evelina tipped her chin up, gazing imperiously at him. “And a man who you had not seen for ten years. Given your long absence, I think you know only a little more about him than I do.”
Stephan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rein in his temper.
Hearing her speak so candidly about the man—worse, hearing her insist that his father was not as bad as he assumed—awakened a boiling anger inside him.
It threatened to overflow. A small part of Stephan suspected that being so furious over his wife’s remarks was irrational, but Evelina simply did not understand what his father was like, what his family was like.
Even if she had witnessed her own mother’s dreadful marriage, Evelina was not alone in the way that Stephan was.
She had her sister and friends who supported her and who had cared about her always.
At best, Stephan had Murrayton, but they had not even known one another until after Stephan had spent a few years in the navy, struggling to belong.
“Evelina, I do not want to talk about my father with you,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Maybe not,” she said, “but I think you need to. We have little time left, and if the contract is not valid—”
“It is!” he snapped. “It is valid, and I wish you would stop arguing with me about it!”
Stephan took a bold step forward, and Evelina’s breath audibly hitched. “I am trying to help you,” she said.
“Help me? If you want to help me, you can give me an heir, rather than wasting my time with this baseless speculation about forged signatures and your theories on my father’s character. He was a monster; that is all you need to know about him.”
Evelina’s eyes flashed with anger. “Maybe we would have already produced an heir if you cared to be home more often. You might blame me for being hesitant, but you have not seemed especially eager either. One can hardly blame me for trying to buy you more time.”
Her face was flushed with fury, her eyes bright, and Stephan’s blood roared in his ears.
“Is that what you think?” he asked, laughing harshly.
“Do you think that I am entirely cold? That I do not feel desire? You are driving me mad, Evelina. Marriage of convenience or no, you are an attractive woman. Do you think I am not moved by your charms?”
Evelina’s breath shuddered. Her fingers tangled in her skirts. Stephan’s eyes drifted to her breasts, straining against the confines of her gown, rising and falling quickly as her breath came faster. ‘Well, then,” she said.
His restraint snapped, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close.
Evelina gasped as her hips collided with his thighs.
Stephan smothered her gasp with his mouth, drinking her in.
She tasted of the cake, of sugar and honey, and smelled like English lavender and rose oil.
He kissed her hard, and she moaned. The sound reverberated through his whole body, and he ached for her.
Stephan kissed her until his chest ached for want of air, and when he broke the kiss at last, Evelina stared at him with wide eyes. Her lips were parted and swollen, her breath coming in quick, hot pants.
“I want my heir,” Stephan growled.
She shivered in his arms, her body still pressed flushed against his. “Then, what are we waiting for?”
Stephan grinned wolfishly. “What, indeed?”
Then, he swept her up and into his arms. She cried out in surprise and hastily wrapped her arms around his neck. Stephan’s laugh rumbled in his chest as he carried her from the kitchen. Evelina was soft and pliant in his arms, so infinitely lovely that he wanted to hold her forever.
She was his wife. Even if they did not love one another, she was a beautiful and intelligent woman, and finally—finally—she was going to give him his desired heir.