Page 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

T he corridor was quiet but for the soft pad of Evelyn’s slippers against the carpet and the whisper of her sister’s damp skirts brushing against her own. Her arm was securely wrapped around Matilda’s trembling frame, guiding her toward the guestroom at the end of the hall.

“I never meant for it to happen like this,” Matilda murmured, her voice hoarse with exhaustion and shame. “You must think I’m a coward. I was a coward.”

“You were scared,” Evelyn replied softly. “And trapped. That’s not cowardice, Matilda.”

Matilda’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she looked at her sister. “But I ran off with him. I hurt you. And then when I realized what he truly was, I still stayed. I thought I could fix it. I thought it was my punishment.”

Evelyn shook her head and gently pressed her lips together, halting them just outside the guestroom. “You don’t have to do that anymore,” she said. “None of that matters now. You came to us. That’s what matters.”

She pushed open the door and led Matilda inside. The room was warm, soft with lavender-scented linens and the welcoming glow of firelight crackling in the grate. Evelyn crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a nightgown of soft cotton and lace, holding it out before turning back to her sister.

Matilda stood motionless, wet curls plastered to her cheeks, her expression dazed. Evelyn stepped forward and gently began unfastening the buttons at the back of her sodden dress.

“You don’t have to—” Matilda began, but Evelyn shook her head.

“I want to.”

She peeled the heavy gown away with care, helping her sister out of the damp layers with quiet efficiency.

The fire warmed the room steadily as Matilda stood in her shift, her arms folded tightly around herself.

Evelyn guided her into the dry nightgown then took a brush from the vanity table and gently began untangling her sister’s hair.

They didn’t speak. The silence between them was no longer brittle. It was healing, stretched with years of pain and regrets now cautiously stitched together by something gentler.

When Matilda was dressed and dry, Evelyn pulled back the sheets and helped her into bed, tucking the covers up around her like she used to when they were children playing pretend and hiding from imagined monsters.

“You’re safe now,” Evelyn whispered, brushing a damp lock of hair back from Matilda’s brow.

But Matilda didn’t relax. Her hands remained clenched in the coverlet.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling. “Laurence… he’s wicked , Evelyn. Truly. There are things… things I still haven’t told you. I think even now, we don’t know the full extent of what he’s done. Or what he’s capable of.”

Evelyn’s chest tightened, but her voice remained steady.

“Robert is with him now,” she said. “And Laurence won’t be able to twist or slither out of this. Whatever he’s done, whatever he’s hiding, Robert will find it. And he’ll make sure Laurence answers for every last sin.”

Matilda stirred beneath the covers, her voice a soft rasp breaking the quiet. “Evelyn,” she whispered, her eyes barely open, “I need to say it.”

Evelyn sat up straighter in the chair beside the bed. “You don’t have to,” she said gently. “You’ve been through?—”

“I do.” Matilda pushed herself up, clutching the blanket tightly around her. Her face was pale but resolute. “I need you to hear it. I’m sorry.”

Evelyn shook her head, but Matilda reached for her hand.

“No, please. Let me say it.” She drew in a shuddering breath.

“I hurt you. I chose him. I thought he wanted me. He said I was better than you. That I wasn’t loud or willful or difficult.

He said I was gentle, that I’d make a perfect wife.

And I…” her voice cracked, “…I wanted so desperately to be loved, Evelyn. I did everything he asked of me. I smiled when he told me to. I spoke when spoken to. I made myself small, agreeable, whatever he needed. I… I became just a mirror of what he thought a woman ought to be.”

Her shoulders quaked. “And even that wasn’t enough. He grew tired of me. Grew angry. Rough. At first, I told myself I deserved it. That I’d failed him somehow.”

Evelyn’s blood ran hot, her heart pounding like war drums. “Don’t,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Don’t you dare take the blame for what he did.”

Matilda nodded slowly, her lower lip trembling. “I know that now. It just took me too long to see it.”

Evelyn slid onto the edge of the bed, gathering her sister into her arms. “Listen to me, Tilly,” she said fiercely, using the old childhood nickname. “You did what you had to do to survive. That man… he doesn’t get to define your worth. He doesn’t get to own your story.”

Matilda clutched her tightly. “Is it really over? Can I ever be free?”

Evelyn pulled back just enough to meet her sister’s eyes. “Yes. Robert will bring the truth into the light. And once it’s done, you’ll be free. Free to breathe again. Free to be you. Not someone else’s idea of who you should be.”

A ghost of a smile flickered over Matilda’s lips. “You know our parents will be scandalized,” she said, her voice hoarse with remnants of laughter and sorrow. “A divorcee in the family… Mother will faint into the draperies.”

Evelyn huffed a soft, incredulous laugh. “Well, then we’ll buy her new ones.” Her grin faded into something softer, more solemn. “I don’t care what they think, and you shouldn’t either. You’ve tried for so long to please everyone. It’s your life, Tilly. Live it.”

Matilda blinked hard, her tears finally spilling over, but her smile remained. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Evelyn wrapped her arms around her again, holding her tight, as though she could shield her from every storm yet to come.

For a long moment, they sat like that, sisters once more, not just in blood but in truth. The fire crackled softly, its light flickering over their embrace, and for the first time in years, Evelyn felt something mend inside her.

Matilda was back. And she wasn’t letting her go again.

Robert kicked the townhouse door open with a crash that echoed down the marble-floored corridor.

“My Lord!” the butler gasped, stumbling into the entrance hall. “You… you can’t simply barge in like?—”

“Where is he?” Robert’s voice was low and lethal, each word sharpened by rage.

The butler stammered, “I—I beg your pardon, but?—”

But Robert was already striding forward, his dark greatcoat flaring behind him like the shadow of a storm. He wrenched open door after door, the drawing room, dining room, morning room, until his hand landed on the brass knob of the study. Without hesitation, he threw it open.

There sat the Viscount of Firth, lounging behind his desk with a tumbler of brandy in one hand and a stack of correspondence in the other. The moment their eyes met, the glass froze midway to his lips.

“Your Grace,” he said slowly, rising to his feet, the color draining from his face. “What is the meaning of this?—”

Robert was on him in a blink. He seized the Viscount by the lapels of his velvet coat and slammed him hard against the bookcase behind the desk. Glass rattled, and a framed miniature clattered to the floor.

“You bastard,” Robert hissed, his face inches from the man’s. “Tell me everything. Now.”

The Viscount clawed at Robert’s wrists, struggling to breathe. “You’re mad… unhand me!”

Robert tightened his grip, dragging him higher. “Tell me!”

“All right, all right! ” the Viscount rasped, his voice breaking.

Robert held him pinned, but his entire body was trembling with desire to snap the man’s neck and just be done with it. He was beyond reason, every muscle brimming with fury held back too long.

“I forged the seal,” the Viscount choked out. “Used your father-in-law’s name. Sent the letters.”

“Why?” Robert snarled.

The Viscount’s lips twisted into a grimace of fear. “Please, I’ll tell you everything. I kept records. It’s all in my safe, just let me down!”

But Robert didn’t move. His heart pounded, his knuckles white. He wanted to crush him. He wanted justice. And yet, he needed proof.

He released the Viscount with a hard shove, and the man crumpled to the floor, coughing and gasping like a dying dog. Robert stood over him, dark and quiet, his fists still trembling.

“Then we’re going to the safe,” he said coldly. “And if you try anything, and I do mean anything, I will end you before you can take your next breath.”

The Viscount of Firth limped to the safe behind a painted landscape, his fingers trembling as he spun the dials. Robert stood behind him like a reaper in waiting, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His every breath burned with fury.

The safe clicked open. The Viscount retrieved a bundle of documents tied in silk ribbon. “Here,” he muttered, placing them on the desk with a shaking hand. “You wanted the truth… well, there it is. Every bit of it.”

Robert said nothing. His eyes scanned the brittle pages, his fingers tracing names and seals that had haunted his dreams for over a decade. Then, the Viscount spoke again.

“It was true,” he said bitterly. “The royal lineage. Some ancient, dusty claim through a second cousin thrice removed. Forgotten by everyone except me.” He sank into the chair, defeated. “I was twenty. You were ten. And your family stood in my way.”

Robert’s head snapped up.

“If your family had died, and there were no heirs,” the Viscount continued, his voice low and venomous, “I had enough men in court, clerks, stewards, fools happy to take coin, to smooth over the lines of inheritance. I would have had the title. The land. Everything.”

“I needed a proper seal, of course, if I were to set out righting these wrongs. What allowed me to steal of Eleanor’s father was mere servant complicity.

A footman, who worked there temporarily, was easily blackmailed into procuring the seal for me.

I kept it on my person just long enough to cast a mold of it in wax, then it was just a matter of casting the replica in metal. ”

His voice broke with twisted nostalgia. “I commissioned the robbery and the murders. Simple, clean. But your bloody housekeeper got clever, hid you away with some of the staff. By the time I found out you were alive, it was too late. The paperwork was unraveling. I couldn’t claim anything.

I couldn’t get near you, although I tried to, but you’ve locked yourself away in that manor house, refusing to allow any visitors. ”

Robert’s stomach turned. The roaring in his ears grew louder.

“And then,” the Viscount sneered, “you had the audacity to return from the dead. At one point, I considered simply setting your home on fire, and making sure no one was left alive… to finally end what had been started a long time ago. But it would have been such a shame to ruin that manor house.” She scoffed, then added.

“And you didn’t just come back from the dead but with Evelyn.

My Evelyn. I wanted her. I thought she was a pliant little thing, but she wouldn’t bend.

” He gave a bitter laugh. “She always looked at me like she could see right through me.”

Robert’s voice came out quiet and dangerous. “So I lost my family. My entire life. For your chance at my title?”

The Viscount met his gaze and spat at his feet.

“I would do it again,” he snarled. “And I’d make damn sure you stayed dead this time.”

Robert moved before he even realized it.

His fist slammed into the Viscount’s jaw then into the ribs, stomach, cheekbone.

The chair tipped over with a crash. Robert followed him to the ground as his fists pounded into flesh, every strike a release of grief and agony bottled for fifteen long years.

The Viscount tried to shield himself, but Robert struck again and again.

He saw red. He felt the bones shift under his knuckles. He heard nothing but the ghost of his brother’s laughter, his mother’s soft hum, his father’s proud voice, all torn away.

But then, he saw Evelyn. He saw her face, calm and radiant. Her hand pulling his. Her voice telling him to follow his heart.

That was when his arm stilled mid-swing. Breathing heavily, Robert stood. His chest heaved, fists bloodied. The Viscount groaned beneath him. His face was swollen, his lip split, and his eye already darkening.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor.

The butler appeared at the door, gasping. “My… My Lord, is everything?—?”

Robert didn’t even look away from the broken man at his feet.

“Fetch the constables,” he cut him off. “Now.”