Page 48

T here was something exceptionally dreadful about the middle of the night.

Where all of one’s worries and anxieties came together at once and pressed down upon you as you tried hour upon hour to succumb to slumber.

It felt as if you were the only life in the entire world, as if daylight would never reach you again, and the worries would eat you alive, inch by inch, savoring every hair upon your head until the world ended.

Outside, it was raining hard, which had finally chased away the crowd earlier, leaving Ollie’s home peaceful once again.

But the rain also reminded Evelyn of the day she had become the runaway bride.

As she stared up at the intricate plaster ceiling of the bedroom, she couldn’t help but replay that day over and over in her mind.

The dread that sickened her, the heaviness of her legs, of her heart.

Her sister’s pointed stares in the carriage.

The sheer relief exuded by her father that he’d done his best to hide.

But she’d seen it, she’d seen through his mask.

He’d been upholding his end of the contract with the earl and all would be well for him.

Evelyn recalled the freedom she’d felt when she’d run. The way her legs and lungs had burned, yet she had never felt so alive knowing that her future prison had been left behind.

It was the most pleasurable rush she had ever experienced. As if she had been drugged with happiness, positivity. Everything had seemed bright and hopeful as she’d sprinted block after block through the rain-drenched streets of London.

The way she’d felt then was opposite to how she felt at this exact moment.

This time tomorrow, her family would know about her marriage to Ollie. Evelyn would be dealing with the effects of that horrid conversation. But the day after that was the ship to Paris. And she still had yet to tell Ollie about her departure.

Evelyn still had not decided if she would go back to France or not. It made sense to. She did once have a life there, and she did have friends there. The Louvre might even take her back, but if not, there was endless opportunity there.

And yet.

Maybe she was mad, but Paris had been fun for the time she’d been there. But London was home.

A home in which she seemed to be burning down, but home nonetheless.

What if she didn’t go to Paris and stayed in London?

She didn’t know the status of her job, if it would still be there for her when she returned.

She knew they would give her a hard time for being absent and for what happened.

It would be deserved. But until they said no , hope would remain that she could return to her old life, that they would eventually come around.

She was an asset there. She knew them well, and knew that if Mr. Burlington had done what she had, he would be forgiven and allowed to return. But would she?

Regardless, that was not going to be an enjoyable visit. But it would also put her in the next step of the rest of her life.

Where she would leave Ollie behind.

They had agreed to separate. He’d helped her by marrying her, knowing that a separation was in the future. But the thought still weighed heavily on her heart. She liked Ollie very much.

Silly girl, you love him, and you already admitted this.

Evelyn stilled. What was that voice? She sat up and looked around. But all she could see was darkness and the low, glowing fire.

Evelyn lay back down, her brow furrowed.

You can really leave him behind that easily?

Oh. Now Evelyn recognized that voice—it was her own internal voice. How tired was she? There’s more to life than love , she responded to herself. And if love’s so important, what about my love for art? For myself?

What about it?

Do I only exist for men’s purpose? To be someone’s wife? Daughter? And mother someday? Can I not exist for myself? Can I not be selfish the way men can be, where it is instead called courage or moxie? Can I not have my own purpose in life?

Do you think Ollie would prevent all of that?

Evelyn’s thoughts went quiet, and outside, a crack of thunder shook the house. Wind picked up. The heavy rain was now a roaring storm.

Evelyn continued thinking to herself. None of it matters, anyway.

Even if Ollie changed his mind and decided against a separation, there’s going to be quite a mess to clean up after our marriage is announced.

I can legally protect myself from marrying others, but once the marriage is announced, the earl will start slinging mud and igniting legal issues.

It could become far, far uglier than it already has been if the earl wants it to.

The separation will keep Ollie out of it as best as I can.

But he’s your husband , the voice reminded her.

Evelyn let out a chuckle. Yes, he is. But he married me to help get me out of a bad situation, not because he loves me.

Have you asked him?

Evelyn frowned. Have I asked him if he loves me?

Aye.

Why the blazes would I do that? And anyway, he already told his uncle he isn’t happy to have married me. With me standing right there.

But have you asked him ?

Evelyn sat up again and looked around again. This wasn’t how she would have a conversation with herself. She narrowed her eyes into the darkness. No, and I won’t. I’ve already heard everything I need to hear.

The voice didn’t respond.

Blaming it on extreme exhaustion, Evelyn fell back to her pillow and continued staring up at the ceiling. Thunder cracked again, and wind rattled the windows.

Somewhere out in the hallway, a door opened and closed.

And then, there was a knock at her door.

Evelyn bolted upright and pulled the blanket up to her chin as she remembered it was her wedding night. Evelyn and Ollie had made an agreement of intimacy—or lack thereof. But had he changed his mind?

After rolling out of bed, Evelyn walked quietly to the door. An unexpected vivid flash of memory struck her. When she’d kissed Ollie. Fire would have consumed them if they had let it.

She rubbed her hands over her face, shaking the memory away. And when she uncovered her face, she realized her heart was racing and warmth burned inside of her. “Insipid body,” she grumbled to herself as she cracked the door open.

Ollie stood there in a navy nightshirt with a pinched face. “Excellent. You can’t sleep, either. May I come in?” And he helped himself into her bedroom.

Her heart began to race, which seriously annoyed her. Again, insipid body.

Evelyn huffed. “Excuse me, but I didn’t invite you in.”

But Ollie didn’t respond. He hurriedly crossed the room toward her bed, then to her utter surprise passed it without even a glance. Instead, he came to a stop at a window. The wind whistled beyond it. “Bad storm tonight,” he said, parting the curtains a bit to watch the water stream down the glass.

Evelyn tilted her head. “Ollie, what are you doing?”

Another crack of thunder shook the house. Ollie let the curtains fall together again and rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing. I couldn’t sleep and since you’re awake too, perhaps we could, I don’t know. Be sleepless together.”

Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “What are you insinuating?”

Ollie grinned that handsome smile of his, which didn’t help her situation.

“See, I thought about it being our wedding night and all and while I wouldn’t mind passing the entire night in bed with you, I am a man of my word.

” He placed his hand over his heart and proceeded to plop down into a chair near her fireplace, where tension took over him and he stared into the fire, unblinking, as his shoulders and face turned to stone.

Did Ollie even realize what he had just said? What in the blazes was going on with him?

Ask him if he loves you.

No , she replied to herself.

At another boom of thunder, Ollie flew out of his seat and began poking at the fireplace, his jaw clenched tightly. And then when he was done with that, he rubbed the back of his neck again.

Another crack of thunder, and he returned to the window to peek through the gap. “How long is this going to last?” he asked with dismay.

Evelyn crossed the room and stopped a few steps away from him for her own sanity. It was clear that in her lack of sleep, she was vulnerable to her attraction to him.

A particularly loud crash of thunder caused Ollie to jump. He turned to face her, running his hand through his hair. “Evelyn, I’m being forced to admit something most humiliating and I’m not happy about it, either.”

Dread snaked through her. Evelyn tried to imagine what it could be.

A secret child or secret family, perhaps.

She swallowed, imagining him tossing a toddler into the air while Miss Findlay giggled and clung to his arm.

It was ridiculous—Miss Findlay had the earl—but the intrusive thought did its job: It horrified her.

Not that she would admit this. “All right.”

“I am terrified—I mean, absolutely, bone-chillingly terrified—of thunderstorms.”

Her arms fell to her side. “Sorry?”

He closed the gap between them. “It’s true. It’s humiliating, but it’s true.”

Evelyn hid the relief she felt even from herself. “I thought you were going to tell me you had a secret child.”

Ollie gave her that handsome grin. “No, it was merely about me being a grown man afraid of noisy nature.” He paused. “I would prefer you don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not. But why are you so afraid of storms?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. All I know is when there’s a storm, I become completely consumed by fear, especially if it’s dark out.” His grin fell away, replaced with tension. “Do you mind if I hover around in here for a bit?”

“You don’t want to be alone,” she concluded out loud, now understanding. “What about Hambone?”

“I thought about that and tried pulling her out from under the bed, when she proceeded to attack me.” He held up one hand and there were deep, bloody claw marks on them.