Page 51

At breakfast, Ollie hoped a new day meant they could move past whatever had happened the previous night. However, when Ollie entered his dining room, Evelyn ignored him, instead daintily eating toast as if he weren’t there. He greeted her, but he may as well have been invisible.

It was the worst breakfast he’d ever had. The food was splendid, of course, but the air was tense. And he could feel Evelyn’s anger boiling across the table.

Funny thing was, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why she was so furious with him.

When Evelyn had finished her meal, she rose from her seat and hurried out of the room.

Ollie ran after her, as he always did. And for the first time, he felt annoyed with himself. Why did he keep running after her? He had pride.

He found Evelyn in the parlor reading a book. He approached and stopped before her, but, like in the dining room, she didn’t look up.

Observing the book she had, he had to resist the urge to grin. “You’re reading it upside down,” he tried to say as seriously as possible.

Evelyn’s nose flared as she turned bright red and corrected the book. But still, she remained quiet.

“Look, I get you are furious with me. But can you at least tell me why?”

Evelyn closed her eyes as she flipped the page. “If you don’t know, then I can’t help you.”

Ollie resisted the urge to pull his hair out. “How is that helpful to us at all?”

“I don’t feel like talking to you, Ollie.”

“Because I kissed you? You can’t be serious.”

She flipped to the next page.

He swore under his breath. “Look, you were willing, too, by the way. It’s not like I made you do something you didn’t want to. Actually, if I recall, you were quite willing. And you, if I may be so bold, wanted a bit more from me than a kiss. I mean, not that I didn’t want that, too.”

She turned a page hard. No way she was actually reading it.

Stating the obvious wasn’t working. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, all right?

You were right. You kissed me that one time and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Day, night, it didn’t matter. It followed me everywhere.

Forgetting about it was an impossibility.

How could a kiss be so memorable? I asked myself that a hundred times.

But you hypnotized me. A mere kiss, a pretty tame one at that, and you had me enraptured. ”

“Stop trying to charm me,” Evelyn replied drily.

“I’m not—it’s the truth! Charming someone involves embellishment to achieve a specific desired effect.”

At this, Evelyn looked up at him with one skeptical eyebrow lifted.

“I do have moments where I have a semi-intelligent thought.”

Evelyn sighed and set the book to the side. “Please let me be, Ollie. I’m already in a mood as it is.”

“Because of me? Or because of your family?”

She didn’t respond and instead stood up and crossed the room to watch the fire crackle in the fireplace.

He took the hint and left.

The rest of the day, they kept away from each other. It hurt. His heart ached. And he hated the feeling. He wanted to repair whatever had ripped between them. But then again, there wasn’t a point. Maybe this was for the best.

He spent the day feeling awful. Replaying their building passion in his mind, replaying the shock that had emanated from her. He knew she felt the fire that burned between them. But whereas he wanted to explore what it could lead to, she wanted to snuff it out.

Soon enough, it was evening, and Ollie was as ready as he could be. Mrs. Chapman was a bundle of nerves, but the cook was in excellent spirits having to cook for guests.

Ollie worried the baron, baroness, and dowager contessa wouldn’t come. That they would have to delay breaking this news further. What if Evelyn was forced to stay?

In theory, he liked the idea. Of her always being there, of them sharing a bed together.

They could pass their time together with her reading art history books to him, chatting happily about a subject she had immersed herself in.

He adored when that happened, when she discovered something and spoke rapidly and excitedly about it for hours.

And he hung on to every word she uttered.

Hopefully, her family would arrive soon and put him out of his misery.

Sure enough, Evelyn’s family arrived right on time.

The knock came and Ollie hurried out of the parlor to greet them, right as Evelyn sprinted down the stairway.

Evelyn hesitated but then began moving forward, briefly glancing at him as she rushed by.

She was wearing a stunning, low-cut, perfectly fit dinner dress.

It was moss-green velvet, with gold, glass bead fringe and metallic embroidery, and it all looked beautiful with her red hair that had been done up with a gold hair comb.

He drank in her beauty, trying to capture every little detail so he could hold on to it forever.

Without thinking, he reached his hand out to grab hers.

She looked at him with wide eyes but stopped.

“I’m here,” was all he could think to say. “All right?”

Fear shone in her eyes and she nodded, followed by a tiny flicker of relief in her face.

He didn’t really appreciate how terrified she would be. Maybe he should have given her a little more grace than he had. This all would be life-changing for her, far more than it would be for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “And I will expand on how sorry, in intricate detail with bullet points, if you could specify what has made you so furious, you couldn’t stand being around me all day.”

Someone knocked on the door again. She stared at it down the hallway as Mrs. Chapman hurried past her to answer it. “You snuck out,” she said with a whisper. Ollie felt the color drain from his face. “And went to another woman.”

“ Went to another woman ?” What in the blazes was she talking about?

“You were so furious at me for not going to bed with you that you found your release elsewhere. Didn’t you?”

“Of course not! How did you concoct such a ridiculous idea?”

But she didn’t seem to believe him and had no interest in continuing this conversation. She pulled away and hurried forward as Mrs. Chapman opened the door, revealing Evelyn’s family.

No one said anything as they entered, bringing in somber air fit for a funeral.

The willowy, red-haired baron was first and immediately looked around, inspecting the house his daughter had been hiding in.

He set his eyes on Ollie and recognition flashed in his face.

But the baron didn’t say anything. He stared Ollie down his nose before turning his back to him and removing his hat.

Evelyn’s mother came up next, and her study nearly mirrored her husband’s. Though she added a little “Hmph.”

And then, Signora Orsini. The dowager contessa ’s attention went straight to her sister. Their greeting was guarded and Signora Orsini quickly whispered something in Evelyn’s ear Ollie couldn’t hear. Evelyn quietly replied, “I don’t know yet.”

The contessa put her attention on Ollie.

There was no animosity there, but as she looked Ollie over, there was a strange look on her face—satisfaction—like she had solved a riddle and understood the solution no one else did.

She gave him a mischievous smile before joining her parents.

Evelyn introduced everyone. It was quite possibly the most uncomfortable introduction he had ever experienced.

“As requested, we’re here for the explanation,” the baron said, handing his top hat over to Mrs. Chapman without acknowledging the woman.

“We’ll talk over dinner.” Evelyn led her family to the dining room.

Mrs. Chapman mouthed “Now?” to Ollie and he nodded. As they took their seats at the table, which was already set, Mrs. Chapman left the room to gather the food.

“What is it that you wish to discuss with us, Evelyn, that can’t be discussed at home?” the baron asked. His eyes narrowed on Ollie. “And do we need an audience?”

Evelyn was seated beside him and shifted in her chair. “Yes, Papa. Ollie needs to be here for this.”

“‘Ollie’?” The baroness’s lips pressed thin.

Silence settled over the room again, and Ollie did the only thing he knew to do. He jumped up. “Would anyone like a drink?”

Thankfully, this seemed to—very slightly—ease the tension in the room and everyone at once confirmed yes, they would like one. Even Evelyn, whom Ollie didn’t know to drink much.

Ollie went over to the sideboard where wine bottles and wineglasses had been set up to serve and he began to pour, taking his time. Normally, one served at the table, but this allowed the family a moment together while he could remain in the room.

The baron cleared his throat. “The earl is very cross with you, Evelyn.”

“I’m sure he is,” she replied weakly.

“We can only imagine what you have been up to living under another man’s roof,” her father said. Ollie could feel the baron’s eyes digging into his back. “He’s willing to forgive you for this entire ridiculous situation, including whatever trouble you got yourself into here.”

“ With an inferior man,” the baroness mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“But—”

“One that, I should add, has completely ridiculed the family! I can hardly leave the house now. Every time I go to the gentlemen’s club, I’m the butt of everyone’s jokes. And I am not a funny man!”

Ollie had to bite his cheek and keep his eyes glued to his task to keep from laughing from nerves, but all of his other senses remained on Evelyn. She didn’t respond to her father, and he wished he could see her reaction.

The baron grumbled. “Regardless, we signed a legal document, a contract, and there’s no avoiding the marriage. I understand you don’t want it, I do. But what’s done is done. There’s no way out.”

Ollie turned and began placing the wineglasses in front of everyone. Evelyn avoided his gaze. The poor woman was terrified, and he wished he could do something to help. But he couldn’t, other than being present.

“Yes, about that—” But before Evelyn could continue, Mrs. Chapman and the cook appeared.

The room went quiet for a few minutes as Ollie returned to his seat and the food was served. Everyone kept their eyes on their plate. Ollie wondered if he should reach over to squeeze Evelyn’s hand but decided it would be best not to.

Once everyone was served, Mrs. Chapman went over to collect the empty serving trays when there was a knock at the front door again.

Ollie tore a look in Evelyn’s direction. She tore a look in his. Both of them stared at each other with widening eyes.

“Are we expecting anyone?” Ollie asked Mrs. Chapman.

But his housekeeper stared in the direction of the door, biting her lip. “No. Give me one moment. I’ll send away whoever it is.”

Ollie tried to imagine who could be at his door. Eamon knew about the dinner—would he try to insert himself into it? Ollie didn’t think so, but who else would it have been?

A deep, booming voice filled the house. “What do you mean I can’t come in? Blast it all, Mrs. Chapman. Get out of the way!”

Ollie closed his eyes and dropped his forehead into his hand. It was Fergus. And, Ollie assumed, Marjory as well.

Seconds later, his enormous grandfather stormed into the dining room, rattling the dishes on the table. He stilled upon seeing the baron, and the baron looked equally startled.

Did they know each other?

“What in the blazes is going on here?” Fergus looked over the room. Marjory went around the table and helped herself to a glass of wine while she hummed.

Ollie stood up from his chair but didn’t move from the table. “You need to leave. Right now. This is quite possibly the worst time for you to invite yourselves into my house.”

Fergus gave him a funny look. “Invite ourselves? You invited us , you daft fool!”

But before Ollie could respond to such a ludicrous claim, there was another knock at the door.

“Ollie,” Evelyn said in a strained voice. “Please tell me I didn’t hear that.”

But he had heard it, too. Happy to get away and leaving Mrs. Chapman to gather two more place settings, Ollie stormed over to the front door. He couldn’t imagine who was here now.

Flustered, he flung the door open and was utterly stunned to find Victor, Dantes, Vivian, and Lady Litchfield huddled together in his doorway.

“What are you doing here?” Ollie hissed the words low, but he was looking at Victor.

Victor didn’t respond. Instead, he stared back at Ollie with a dark expression and held up a piece of paper.

Ollie ripped it out of his hand and read it over. It was an invitation to dinner, written in overly flourished script.

“You’re the one who invited us,” Dantes replied. And the entire group filed past him.

But the ever-perceptive Lady Litchfield paused at the end. “Is everything all right, Ollie?”

Ollie glanced over his shoulder. Everyone was now in the dining room. Victor and his grandparents hadn’t spoken to each other in twenty years. It appeared his uncle the art forger had forged the invitations and planned for mischief tonight. What in the blazes was Eamon trying to do to him?

“Actually, no, it’s not,” Ollie replied. “In fact, this is going to be a horrific disaster.”