Page 16

Chapter Sixteen

T he music slowed and faded as the final notes of the waltz hovered like a sigh between the chandeliers. Robert’s hand lingered at her waist, warm and grounding, and Evelyn turned toward him, her lips parting to speak, but before she could do so, a voice interrupted them.

“Your Grace,” her father appeared with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“A few of us were discussing the matter of land assessments and estate boundaries near the Kent border. There’s a dispute between the Huntingford and Beresford lines, and it appears we need a neutral opinion to break the tie.

As the only duke among us, your word would go a long way. ”

Robert glanced at Evelyn, his brows knitting briefly. She shook her head just slightly in a silent reassurance: go . He gave her a subtle nod, squeezed her hand once, and turned to follow her father through the crowd of dinner jackets and polished boots.

Evelyn was left standing alone at the edge of the ballroom, her breath catching in her chest. Her skin still tingled from the closeness of him, from the things he’d said, and the confession he’d whispered.

She didn’t move until Cordelia’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“There you are, Duchess,” her friend said with a grin, looping an arm through hers. “You’ve been entirely too serious tonight. Surely, you’re not already regretting marrying a handsome, brooding duke?”

Hazel joined her on the other side. “Married mere hours and already pining. It’s all so dreadfully romantic.”

“I’m not—” Evelyn began, but her voice lacked its usual crispness.

Her friends noticed. They exchanged a glance over her head.

“You’re quiet,” Hazel said gently. “You’ve not been yourself.”

Evelyn sighed, allowing them to lead her toward the refreshment table where glasses of punch and wine glistened under candlelight. “I’m sorry. I’m just… preoccupied.”

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, half-serious. “Does this preoccupation wear breeches and a haunted expression?”

Evelyn almost smiled, but it flickered too quickly. “No. Well… yes. But not in the way you think.”

They fell quiet for a moment, giving her space.

At last, Evelyn turned to them, her voice low and solemn. “There’s something I need to speak to my husband about. I can’t tell you yet, not until I understand what’s truly going on. But once I do, I promise, I’ll tell you everything.”

Cordelia and Hazel didn’t press. They simply nodded, their hands brushing hers, in a small act of loyalty and understanding between best friends.

And still, the night stretched ahead, painfully slow. The laughter around her felt like a distant thing. Evelyn moved through the rest of the gathering as if underwater. She was smiling, nodding, enduring, but her thoughts spun in a dizzying loop: her sister, the bruises, Robert’s words.

She needed answers, and there was only one man who might provide them for her.

That was why she didn’t wait to be invited into the Duke’s chambers that evening, after all the guests had retired.

She found herself standing before the heavy oak door for a full ten seconds with her hand hovering just above it. She couldn’t stop trembling.

Just knock, she urged herself, but that was easier said than done as her nerves sparked like firecrackers beneath her skin.

Then, she finally knocked. Just once, but firmly.

The door opened almost instantly, and her breath left her body in a startled whoosh.

Robert stood before her barefoot, his dark hair slightly damp, tousled as if he had run a hand through it too many times.

His shirt was nowhere to be seen, leaving his chest bare to the warm candlelight as the lean strength of him was thrown into sharp relief by the flickering glow.

Evelyn’s mouth went dry. Her thoughts disbanded like startled birds. She forgot entirely why she had come.

“I… ” she began then shook herself. “Could you… put on a shirt?”

He blinked then grinned. “Why?”

Her eyes widened as her hands gestured at him. “Because I can’t speak to you like that.”

He leaned against the doorframe, so at ease it nearly drove her mad. “Is my lack of clothing distracting you from what I am saying?”

She stiffened, her face heating painfully. “Your arrogance is staggering.”

And then, to her horror, he laughed, utterly freely and deeply. Not a smug chuckle or a practiced smirk but something genuine and boyish and infuriatingly handsome. Dimples carved into his cheeks as if they had been waiting for this precise moment to appear.

Evelyn turned her face slightly, struggling to keep her expression neutral. Not the time. Not the place.

“I am quite serious,” she huffed.

“So am I,” he said, still grinning. Then, he stepped to the side. “Do you plan on lingering in the doorway all night, or would you like to come inside and tell me why you are here.” He obviously couldn’t resisting adding, playfully, “I promise not to bite, Duchess.”

The nickname shouldn’t have made her stomach flip, but it did.

She entered the room cautiously, her eyes trained firmly on the floor, as though it might leap up and bite her should she glance anywhere else. Behind her, she heard the soft click of the door closing.

“I assume this is not a social call,” he said casually.

That vile, infuriating man.

“No. It isn’t,” she replied tightly.

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed the moment she noticed.

Robert had slipped into a pale linen shirt, a gesture that might’ve seemed courteous had he not deliberately left it hanging open, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest, bronzed and dusted lightly with dark hair.

The fabric hung loose over his frame, clinging slightly from the warmth of the fire, highlighting muscles he was clearly all too aware of.

And he was watching her.

Her breath hitched.

“Are you still not dressed properly?” she asked, trying her best to sound scolding rather than breathless.

Robert smirked and, to her absolute horror, rolled one shoulder slowly, as if testing the tension in it. The muscle flexed beneath his skin. Then the other.

“Does this displease you?” he asked innocently. “I thought we were making progress.”

“You—!” She clamped her mouth shut, eyes darting back to the fireplace to avoid his grin.

He stretched like a cat, just to be infuriating. “You should see your face, darling wife. You’re blushing again.”

“Oh, you cad,” she snapped, whirling around and nearly tripping over the edge of the rug. “Stop it at once!”

His laughter rumbled in the low, amused way that made her want to throw something at him and also, against her better judgment, smile.

“This is far too fun,” he said, settling into the chair with maddening ease. “You storm in here like a duchess on a mission, and yet, here you are, utterly undone by an unbuttoned shirt.”

“Because you’re doing it on purpose. ”

“Guilty,” he agreed with a wicked glint in his eyes. “But if it puts your noble mind at ease, I shall behave.” He raised his hands in mock surrender.

With a sigh that was more or a growl, she fully looked up at him again and instantly regretted it. The light from the fire had shifted, casting golden shadows along the hard lines of his torso. The open shirt was worse than no shirt at all; it was an invitation, a temptation.

Her breath caught again before she could stop it. He noticed. But this time, he said nothing.

That was when she sat down without being invited, and her skirt settled around her like a pale cloud. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. She needed to focus on what she had come to say or better yet, to ask.

“I came,” she began, forcing her voice to be steady, “because I want to understand. Earlier… when we danced… you said something about my father.” She looked up at him, eyes searching. “I want you to explain what you meant.”

Robert’s entire posture changed. The muscles of his chest, previously displayed with such shameless ease, now tensed as if bracing for a blow. His face lost every trace of humor. The light in his eyes dimmed. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her.

Silence bloomed between them suddenly, thick and suffocating.

Evelyn’s voice softened. “I know this isn’t easy, but I’m your wife now. You can trust me. Whatever you tell me, it will stay between us.”

He finally met her eyes. There was something old and raw in his expression, grief so deep it had calcified into silence over the years. Her heart clenched.

Robert stood, walked to the hearth, and braced his arm against the mantel, staring into the fire like it might burn the words into clarity. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost hollow.

“I was nine,” he said. “We were traveling back to Harland from a visit to my grandmother’s estate. It was supposed to be routine, just a few days’ ride.”

He swallowed hard.

“My mother had been unwell, so she was wrapped in furs, seated beside me. My father sat across from us with my older brother, Julian. We were laughing about something, I don’t even remember what. Then the carriage stopped.” His jaw clenched. “Too suddenly. No call from the driver. Just… silence.”

Evelyn barely breathed.

“They came out of nowhere. Men. Three of them. Faces covered. They killed the driver first. Then the footman. I remember my father standing, telling my mother to hide Julian and her…” Robert’s voice cracked.

“Her hands on me, pushing me down. There was a compartment under the seat. No one knew about it but us. A small space. Cramped. I couldn’t see much, but I heard everything. ”

Evelyn’s hands flew to her mouth, horrified.

He didn’t stop.

“My mother… she wouldn’t beg. She tried to reason with them. That made them angrier. They killed her first.”

A second passed.

“Then my father. Julian. And then… silence again.”

He turned toward her finally. His eyes were glassy but dry, distant and haunted. “I waited. I don’t know how long. Hours, maybe. When I finally climbed out… they were just lying there. Still. The blood had soaked through everything. I touched her hand, thinking maybe she would wake up.”

He looked away again, jaw rigid.

“I didn’t cry. Not once. All I felt was anger. White-hot rage. I wanted to find the men who did it and make them pay.”

Evelyn was frozen. Her throat burned with unshed tears, and her heart ached as if the grief were her own. She rose slowly, walked over to him, but didn’t reach for him. She didn’t know if he’d want her to.

“Robert…” she whispered.

He exhaled shakily, as if the very act of saying it aloud had winded him.

“For years, I’ve investigated in secret.

Looking into every lead, every face, every carriage robbery reported during that time.

” His gaze flicked to her. “Your father’s name came up in a ledger that had been brought to my attention recently.

His seal has been used on several documents, proving illegal conduct on his part.

One of those documents was addressed to one of the two men who had been caught and sentenced for the death of my family.

But even with their dying breath, they refused to say who hired them.

They claimed it was merely a robbery gone wrong.

” He paused there. “That letter, with your father’s seal, was addressed to one of those two men.

It doesn’t mention my family or any wrongdoing, and I don’t know what it means yet, but I intend to find out. ”

Evelyn stepped closer.

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. But she reached for his hand tentatively, and when he didn’t pull away, she laced her fingers with his.

And in that moment, she understood: the man the world called cold and calculated, the Duke she’d feared and fought, was just a boy who had once hidden in a box, listening to his world being destroyed. He had never stopped listening since.

Robert’s hand stayed in hers though his grip had slackened. His eyes were dark as the night outside and were no longer haunted but sharp.

“I can’t go to your father without something solid,” he said quietly.

“Not yet. I need to be sure, absolutely sure, before I confront him.” His eyes narrowed, as if the thought alone was a weight he’d carried far too long.

“I had nearly forgotten him, truthfully. Until your mother mentioned the name Wimberly when she came to see me the first time. That was another name I saw in the ledger, someone connected to the man I suspect arranged the attack.”

Evelyn felt her breath hitch. Lord Wimberly… her father’s old business associate. And also, the man she almost married.

“My father…” she began, shaking her head, “he’s no saint, that I know. He’s proud, short-tempered, and cares more for status than for sentiment. But murder?” She met Robert’s gaze firmly. “He could never do something so unspeakable.”

Robert’s expression didn’t soften, but he listened. And when she spoke again, her voice held a strange blend of loyalty and resolve.

“If there’s something to be found, proof one way or the other, then I’ll help you. If only to prove his innocence.”

He nodded slowly, eyes sweeping over her as if truly seeing her for the first time.

“You’d truly do that?” he asked.

Evelyn held his gaze. “Yes. Because you need answers. And because if you’re wrong, if there is nothing to find, then you’ll know. And if you’re right…”

She trailed off, unable to finish. The truth was too horrifying.

He let go of her hand, not unkindly, and walked to his desk, resting a hand there as he stared into the fire again.

“I’ve spent most of my life imagining what I would do when I finally got the name. But now that I might have it…” He drew in a breath through his nose. “I’m wondering if that has been the only thing keeping me alive.”

Evelyn stepped closer, drawn by something deeper than sympathy.

“Then let’s find the truth first,” she said gently. “After that… you’ll know what to do.”

He locked eyes with her. “You truly are unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he murmured.

And for the first time since she entered his room, Evelyn didn’t blush. She simply met his gaze with quiet steel.

“Good,” she said. “Because I intend to be.”