Page 10

Chapter Ten

I t was only several minutes later that Robert found himself sitting in the high-backed leather chair in his study, still as a statue. Across from him, Lady Cordelia shifted in her seat. Lady Hazel did not.

He had offered them the larger settee, but they seemed too tense to notice the gesture. Cordelia’s eyes flitted to the clock on the mantle and then to the door, as though expecting Evelyn herself to appear and end the interrogation. Hazel met his gaze squarely. He respected her for it.

“I will ask only once more,” Robert said, endeavoring to keep his voice as calm and measured as he could, without menace though it often read as such. “What on earth is going on here?”

Cordelia looked toward Hazel, silently begging for a reprieve. Hazel gave her none.

Robert waited. He did not fidget. He did not pace. He simply was the way a thundercloud was : quiet, vast, heavy with the threat of something more.

Still, there was no answer. He exhaled, controlled but not weary, not at all annoyed, and made himself ease back an inch in the chair.

It was a slight concession. He knew he probably frightened them though he had never raised his voice in their presence nor anyone else’s in recent memory.

It was not in his nature to soothe, but for Evelyn’s sake, he would try.

“I do not seek to unearth gossip,” he said with his tone unchanging, “nor to cast blame. I ask only because I wish to understand what Evelyn is enduring. It seems—” he paused, searching for the word, “—that I have erred. We had begun to speak plainly with one another, or so I believed. But now, she will barely look at me after what I have unknowingly done.”

Cordelia pressed a hand to her mouth then dropped it quickly as though realizing the gesture would betray something. Hazel’s expression remained even.

Robert’s gaze moved between them. “I understand now that I was misled. Her mother was emphatic. She said Evelyn misses her sister terribly and would be moved by a surprise visit. She begged me to extend the invitation to the Viscount of Forth and his wife.”

At the mention of Evelyn’s sister, Cordelia winced. Hazel drew in a long, quiet breath.

“She lied,” Hazel said finally. “Lady Brimwood lied.”

“I had surmised as much.”

“It wasn’t a lie of confusion,” Cordelia added, her voice quieter, more brittle. “It was intentional. Malicious even.”

Hazel cut in before Cordelia’s rising emotion could take root.

“We will tell you what we know, Your Grace, not for Lady Ashworth nor for curiosity’s reward but because we care for Evelyn.

Deeply. And because, frankly, much of what we are about to say is no secret among the ton .

If you were more frequently among society, you might know it already. ”

“I avoid society intentionally,” Robert replied. “I find it excels at saying much and meaning little.”

Cordelia gave a startled laugh then covered her mouth again. Hazel’s mouth twitched in what might have been agreement.

Robert said nothing to acknowledge the amusement. He simply waited.

The ladies exchanged another glance. Hazel’s brow lifted as if to ask silently: Shall I? Cordelia gave a small nod, but her fingers twisted tightly in her lap.

Robert observed it all.

Hazel began, her voice even. “You must understand something, Your Grace. Evelyn’s family… well, it’s not so simple as appearances might suggest. She and Matilda were very close once. But this closeness… it didn’t survive what happened.”

Cordelia broke in, her voice tight. “Their father arranged a match for Evelyn. A good one. Lord Laurence Ashworth, the Viscount of Forth. Evelyn was… radiant that year. She’d just come out, and he took notice.”

“She was excited,” Hazel said with a rare flicker of emotion. “She told us in confidence that she thought herself in love. Believed she had been chosen.”

Robert’s brow furrowed, just slightly. “They courted?”

“For a few weeks,” Cordelia answered, “but quietly. They weren’t to announce anything until the banns were read. Lord Brimwood wanted it done properly with ceremony. But before the first Sunday came?—”

“They were gone,” Hazel said flatly. “Matilda and the Viscount. Gone to Gretna Green. Married before anyone knew what had happened.”

Robert was silent for a moment. Then, the weight of what he had just heard hit him. “She ran off with her sister’s betrothed.”

“Yes,” Hazel confirmed. “Her older sister. Who had never shown any interest in him until Evelyn did.”

Robert leaned forward slightly, his tone unchanged but his words clipped. “Did Evelyn know? That Matilda…?”

Cordelia shook her head quickly. “No. Never. She trusted Matilda with her life.”

“And her parents?”

“They claimed shock,” Hazel said with a trace of dry disdain. “Though Lady Brimwood took Matilda’s side within a fortnight. She said Evelyn must have misunderstood Lord Ashworth’s intentions. That Matilda simply acted boldly in love.”

Cordelia let out a bitter breath. “It broke Evelyn—not that she ever said so—but she stopped speaking about the future. She refused other suitors, I think, not because they weren’t worthy but because she didn’t trust herself to believe anyone again.”

Robert’s hands tightened where they rested on the arms of the chair. Not enough to betray anger but enough that Hazel noticed.

“She has spoken none of this to me,” he said. He also understood why.

“She wouldn’t,” Hazel replied. “You’re a man. And she’s spent the last two years being told she’s foolish for still being hurt.”

“She is not foolish.”

Cordelia gave a tight smile. “You can tell her that. Tell her it isn’t weakness to bleed where she was cut.”

Robert’s eyes met Hazel’s. “And you are certain she bears no feelings for Lord Ashworth still?”

Hazel’s mouth thinned. “None. She hates him. But she hates herself more for ever having wanted him.”

Cordelia nodded. “She doesn’t speak to them. She hasn’t written, hasn’t responded. She merely retreated.”

“As I’ve seen,” Robert said, almost to himself.

Cordelia looked at him carefully, like one examining a map for the safest path. “She may never trust easily again. But if there’s any chance at all, it would be with someone who sees her as she is now, not what she once hoped to be.”

Robert rose then, slowly and deliberately. “That man will not set foot across my threshold. And if her mother has objections, she may direct them to me.”

Hazel nodded once, approving.

Robert looked toward the window with his hands clasped behind his back and his voice as flat and grave as always.

“I do not concern myself with society’s whims, but I will not allow Evelyn to suffer in silence for the sake of decorum.

If I am to be her husband, she will know peace within these walls, or I will tear them down until she does. ”

Cordelia blinked. “That’s… oddly romantic.”

“It’s not meant to be,” he replied.

She smiled faintly. “All the better.”

Robert closed the study door behind Lady Hazel and Lady Cordelia with a finality that seemed to echo down the corridor. His hand remained on the latch for a moment longer than necessary. Then he turned and walked briskly toward the east wing where Evelyn had retreated an hour ago.

He did not knock gently. His fist struck the door just once but sharply. No answer.

He opened it.

Empty.

The room was neat… too neat. There were no signs of her. There was no book abandoned on the chair, no shawl cast aside. Her presence had been here once, but it was long since vanished. His jaw tightened.

That was when he heard voices. They came from below, muffled by wood and plaster. A woman’s lilting tone was too sweet. A younger woman’s reply was quiet. And there was a third voice, low, masculine, and unwelcome.

Robert was moving before he registered it, footsteps soundless but swift across the upper landing. As he reached the stairs, Lady Brimwood’s voice lifted, clear and coaxing.

“You must see reason, Evelyn. They are your family.”

No, he thought. They are vipers.

He didn’t pause at the threshold of the drawing room. He walked straight through it, swinging the door open with such force that it bounced once against the wall. The room fell into silence at once.

Evelyn was sitting stiffly on the edge of the settee, pale and with her fingers clenched tightly in her lap. Her mother and father were seated opposite her, showing which sides of the matter they were on.

“Oh, Your Grace,” she said smoothly, regaining composure momentarily. “We were just discussing the remodeling of this room.” She turned to her daughter. “Right, dear?”

Evelyn, without lifting her eyes, agreed. “Yes. Perhaps we might repaint the molding in cream. Or replace the rug with something… more welcoming.”

Robert looked at her. He really looked, not failing to notice the hollow behind her voice and the rigidity in her posture. She was lying. She was playing a part to protect herself.

His voice came low. “I have no time for such games.”

Lady Brimwood blinked. “Pardon?”

He didn’t look at her. “I need a word with Evelyn.”

Evelyn’s head lifted slightly. Her eyes met his, steady but dulled. “I’m in no mood for more serious conversations.”

He stepped forward. “Unfortunate.”

And without another word, he reached down, gripped her waist, and lifted her off the settee in one fluid movement. She let out a soft gasp of outrage as he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“ Robert! ” she snapped, twisting in protest, referring to him by his given name for the first time ever. If he hadn’t been so blinded by rage, he would actually have realized how much he liked it. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Removing you from a poisonous atmosphere,” he replied coolly.

“Put me down! This is completely improper!”

He didn’t. He kept walking, measured and unfazed, through the drawing room, out into the hallway, and toward the library. Behind them was shocked silence.

Then Lady Brimwood’s voice rose in a scandalized pitch. “Well, I never!”

Evelyn thumped his back with a closed fist. “You absolute brute! Unhand me this instant!”

He ignored her. His pace never changed.

“People can see us!”

“Good. Perhaps they’ll ask why.”

She went still. Not entirely but the kind of stillness that came from confusion, not submission. Her voice dropped slightly. “Why are you doing this?”

He reached the library, opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it with a firm, final click. Only then did he lower her, not gently but not unkindly, onto the nearest chaise. She immediately stood up, glaring at him.

“You have utterly lost your mind!”