Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

I t was chaotic and utterly foreign.

She adored it.

The tavern door creaked open, and Evelyn stepped inside, her hand still warm in Robert’s.

The scent of roasted meat and woodsmoke enveloped her immediately, mingling with the distant tang of ale and the crisp freshness of the rain still clinging to their clothes.

Her eyes widened as she took it all in: the long wooden tables crowded with lively patrons, tankards raised in cheer, laughter bursting in every corner, and in one area, musicians beginning to tune their instruments with easy camaraderie.

A wide smile bloomed on her lips, unfiltered and bright, and when she turned to glance at Robert, he gave her hand a light tug and guided her to a corner table.

“Stay here,” he urged. “I’ll get us drinks.”

Evelyn nodded, still drinking in the scene.

Her fingers trailed along the worn wood of the table, the imperfections telling a hundred stories of evenings spent just like this.

When Robert returned, two mugs in hand, the music had begun: a fiddle, a flute, and a tambourine blending into a light-hearted country reel that made the floor practically bounce underfoot.

A handful of patrons had already sprung to their feet, forming messy lines and circles, clapping along with the beat. The steps were fast, joyous, and completely unfamiliar to her. Evelyn’s eyes sparkled with wonder. She couldn’t look away.

“It looks like such fun,” she murmured.

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Shall we, then?”

She blinked at him in alarm, already shaking her head. “No, no, I wouldn’t know the steps. I’d ruin the whole dance!”

“Nonsense,” he said, his grin slow and devilish.

Before she could protest again, he had grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet.

“Robert!” she laughed, half-scolding, but she followed him all the same, her cheeks already flushed.

They were swept into the swirl of the crowd, laughter and clapping all around them. He gave her a quick nod, eyes gleaming, and mimicked the steps just once.

“Follow my lead.”

And she did.

At first, she stumbled, once, then twice, but his steady hands guided her, his low chuckle never unkind, always encouraging. Soon, she found the rhythm, and the joy that bubbled up in her chest was impossible to suppress.

They moved in time with the music, spinning, turning, clapping.

Her laughter joined the others’. And somehow, without realizing it, their hands found each other again between steps.

His fingers brushed the small of her back during a turn.

Her arm grazed his shoulder as they spun around.

It wasn’t a waltz. It wasn’t refined. It was real .

And it brought them closer than any formal ball ever could have.

By the time the tune ended, they were breathless and laughing, flushed from exertion and something far more dangerous. She glanced up at him, still breathing heavily.

“You did wonderfully,” he complimented.

She smiled, glowing. “So did you, Your Grace .”

He raised a brow. “Robert.”

“Robert,” she whispered, and for a moment, the noisy tavern disappeared.

Just him. Just her. And the space between them growing smaller with every breath.

They danced for what felt like hours as one merry reel followed another, and the tavern seemed to come alive with stomping boots, laughter, and the warmth of strangers.

Evelyn’s cheeks hurt from smiling, her ribs ached from laughing, and her legs were sore in a way that reminded her she had lived today. Really lived.

By the time they stepped out of the tavern, the village lay in hushed darkness. The air was cool and damp, and the earlier rain had left the cobblestone streets glistening under the faint moonlight. A distant owl hooted somewhere above, and a dog barked lazily in the distance.

Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself with a soft shiver. Before she could take another step, Robert was at her side again, offering his arm. She took it gratefully, nestling close to him, and they began walking back toward the inn.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” he asked gently, his voice low beside her ear.

She smiled into the night with her eyes fixed ahead. “There are more dangerous things to be afraid of.”

His arm tightened around her shoulders in silent agreement. “You’re right,” he murmured, his voice quieter now and warmer.

And just like that, she allowed herself the comfort of his nearness, the soft scent of him, the quiet strength.

She reminded herself that this was a special night.

An exception. A moment suspended outside of reality.

She was allowed to enjoy it because there would be no repercussions.

They had an arrangement. A clear understanding.

This was just the sort of memory she’d hold onto when everything returned to normal.

They climbed the narrow stairs of the little inn, creaking wood echoing under their feet.

Her fingers brushed the banister, her thoughts swirling as they reached their door.

She paused just a moment before stepping inside, and when he opened it for her, she crossed the threshold slowly then stopped.

The room was exactly as they had left it. Simple. Warm. The fire in the hearth had died down, leaving just embers and a dim golden glow. And just one bed.

Of course.

The realization hit her more strongly now with the door closed behind them. Her fingers hesitated at the ties of her borrowed dress. She turned slightly, unsure how to proceed.

Robert didn’t miss a beat. “If you like,” he said, voice laced with amusement, “I could turn my back again, and we can go through our little routine. Or I could step outside, sleep in the stables with the horses. I’ll even wrestle a goat for a blanket.”

She gave him a look over her shoulder, laughing despite herself. “No need to be dramatic. I’m sure the goat would win.”

He placed a hand over his chest, mock-affronted. “That hurts.”

She gave a quiet snort of amusement. “I meant… you don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

He raised a brow, just slightly. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not cruel,” she said with a half-smile, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “And we’re both adults. We’ve survived worse.”

His gaze softened. “You have my word, Evelyn. Whatever you want, I’ll respect it. Every moment, every requirement, every wish.”

She didn’t say anything to that. She just nodded and turned away again with her heart beating a little too fast, and not just from the cold.

Tomorrow, she would be the Duchess again. Tonight, she would simply be Evelyn, in bed with a man who, against every plan she’d made, was becoming more than just her husband in name.

They both turned around, chuckling softly to themselves as they resumed the now-familiar ritual of undressing back-to-back.

Robert unfastened his shirt and stepped out of his trousers with practiced ease, folding them over the small wooden chair near the wall.

He could hear Evelyn’s huffs behind him, quiet at first then more frustrated as fabric rustled with her efforts.

He turned his head slightly. “What’s the matter?”

A growl of impatience. “It’s the blasted button,” she grumbled. “The one in the back. It’s stuck, and I can’t reach it properly.”

He allowed himself a crooked smile. “Do you need help?”

“No,” she said at once then added a mutter under her breath. “I mean, maybe.”

Another pause. A soft sigh. “Yes. I do.”

He turned around slowly, careful to keep his expression neutral despite the hammering of his heart.

She stood with her back to him, her hands gripping the stubborn fabric near her shoulder blades.

The fine shift she wore underneath was already visible beneath the parting gown, and as he stepped toward her, he was very aware of how close they were.

His fingers brushed the fabric first then her skin, and a jolt of heat ran through him. She was soft and warm, and the scent of her hair, still a little damp from the rain, was maddening.

Focus. Just help her.

He worked the button gently, using the pad of his thumb and a quiet curse when it snagged again. She stood very still beneath his touch, her breath almost held.

“There,” he said softly, the button finally slipping free. He stepped back, willing the tension in his body to ease. “All done.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He turned away again, carefully this time, as if any sudden move would cause something to snap between them. He heard the quiet swish of her dress falling to the floor, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was small.

“You may join me now.”

Robert turned around, and his heart clenched. She lay in bed, the blankets pulled to her chest, her long undershirt visible beneath, loose hair spread like silk across the pillow. Her eyes met his… vulnerable, trusting.

He crossed the room and slid into bed beside her slowly, the mattress dipping under his weight. They were close. Closer than they’d ever been, face to face, sharing the same air.

For a long moment, neither of them said a word. Her eyes searched his face. His hand twitched on the blanket between them.

He wanted to kiss her. More than that, he wanted to hold her, to tell her she was safe, to confess the truth about everything that had begun to grow in his chest without his permission.

But he didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he whispered. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes,” she nodded and whispered back.

Evelyn’s face was turned slightly toward him on the pillow. Her lashes fluttered faintly as she blinked, not quite ready to sleep. And that was when he saw them.

Freckles . Scattered lightly across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, like a constellation only visible up close.

He hadn’t noticed them before, not in the candlelight of their wedding night, not under the layers of powder and paint she wore at balls and formal gatherings.

But here, in this modest inn, stripped of pretense and finery, they were undeniable.

Without thinking, he lifted his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers lightly against her cheek.

She blinked in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“You have freckles,” he murmured, almost in awe. “I hadn’t noticed before.”

She let out a small, embarrassed grumble, turning her face partially into the pillow. “Yes, well… it’s all the sun in the countryside. They’ve gotten worse since we married. I’ve been outdoors more than I ever was before. Blasted things.”

He smiled. “I like them.”

She glanced at him through narrowed eyes. “You do?”

“They make you look very… cute,” he said, the last word coming out in a tone of slight disbelief, almost as if it had escaped him without warning.

She looked at him in a surprised manner and then laughed softly. “Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll keep them.”

He studied her, basking in the quiet comfort that settled between them. Her laughter always did something strange to his chest.

Then her eyes narrowed with curiosity. “You know, you have something too.”

“Oh?”

She reached out, brushing her knuckles just along his jaw. “A scar. Right here.” Her touch was light, barely there. “I hadn’t noticed it before.”

He shifted slightly under her gaze. “I was thrown from a horse as a boy. Landed on a fencepost. It split my cheek.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Not anymore.” He held her gaze. “Most things don’t once they scar.”

She nodded slowly and tucked herself a little deeper beneath the blanket. He mirrored her, their bodies close enough to feel the warmth radiating between them but not yet touching.

And somewhere in the hush, amidst the fading firelight and the gentle sound of rain tapping on the windows, their breaths slowed in unison. Neither of them could say exactly when it happened, but sleep found them like that… side by side, peaceful.

And just a little closer than before.