Page 20 of A Wife for the Beast (Scandals and Second Chances #6)
The first week of December ushered in a kind of fierce Yorkshire weather, as if nature itself sought to assay the fortitude of even the most resolute spirits, with winds that howled across the moors like the voices of the restless dead and rain that fell in torrents so fierce they seemed capable of washing away the very foundations of civilization.
Evangeline woke on the morning of the sixth to the sound of Mrs. Cromwell's urgent knocking and a commotion in the corridors that suggested some crisis had befallen the household during the dark hours before dawn.
"Your Grace," the housekeeper called through the chamber door with barely concealed anxiety, "I beg your pardon for the early hour, but there has been an incident. The storm has caused considerable damage to the estate, and His Grace requests your immediate presence in the estate office."
Evangeline rose with the sort of swift efficiency that had been bred into her by years of managing her father's modest household during his absences, donning her warmest morning dress and heaviest cloak before making her way through corridors that seemed to echo with unusual activity.
The very air appeared charged with urgency, as though the natural order of the household had been disrupted by forces beyond human control.
The estate office presented a scene of organized chaos, with maps spread across every available surface and servants arriving at regular intervals bearing reports that seemed to grow more dire with each delivery.
Lucian stood at the center of this activity like the commanding officer he had once been, his scarred features set in lines of grim determination as he absorbed information about the storm's devastating effects upon his holdings.
"The situation is considerably worse than our initial reports suggested," he informed her without preamble, his voice carrying the sort of crisp authority that marked him at his most formidable.
"The river has overflowed its banks in three separate locations, flooding the lower cottages and trapping several families in circumstances that may prove critical. "
"How critical?" Evangeline demanded, moving to examine the maps that showed the extent of the flooding with startling clarity. "Are lives in immediate danger?"
"Quite possibly. The Smith cottage is completely surrounded by water, as is the miller's house and both of the Thornfield properties. We have no communication with any of the families, and the water continues to rise."
The stark recitation of facts struck her with unexpected force, transforming what might have been abstract concerns about property damage into immediate anxiety about human suffering.
These were not merely names on estate rolls but people she had met during her brief tenure as duchess, families whose children had curtsied to her and whose wives had expressed gratitude for her interest in their welfare.
"What measures are being taken to reach them?" she asked, studying the maps with the sort of practical attention that her father had taught her to apply to strategic problems.
"I am organizing rescue efforts using every available man and boat, though the conditions make such attempts extremely hazardous. The current is treacherous, and the wind makes navigation nearly impossible."
"We must make the attempts nonetheless. These people depend upon us for their safety, and we cannot simply wait for conditions to improve while they face mortal peril."
Her forthright declaration of intention seemed to catch him off guard, as though he had not anticipated such direct engagement with what was clearly a dangerous and complicated undertaking.
"We will make every effort, naturally, but I must insist that you remain safely within the Manor during these operations. The conditions are entirely unsuitable for anyone lacking experience with such emergencies."
The suggestion that she should remain in comfort while others faced danger on behalf of her tenants struck Evangeline as both insulting and impractical, awakening the same stubborn independence that had marked her response to his attempts at intimidation during their initial encounters.
"I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but I have no intention of remaining idle while families under our protection face such dire circumstances. If there are rescue efforts to be organized, then I shall participate in whatever capacity proves most useful."
"You shall do nothing of the kind," Lucian replied with the sort of flat authority that brooked no argument. "Such work is dangerous enough for men with experience in these conditions. I will not have my wife exposed to unnecessary peril for the sake of misguided heroics."
"Misguided heroics?" Evangeline's voice rose with indignation at his characterization of her desire to assist in rescue efforts. "These are our tenants, our responsibility. How can you suggest that concern for their welfare represents anything other than appropriate duty?"
"I suggest nothing of the kind. I merely observe that good intentions are no substitute for practical experience in emergency situations. Your presence would create additional complications that we can ill afford under present circumstances."
"Additional complications? I am quite capable of following directions and making myself useful without requiring constant supervision. You seem to forget that I managed my father's household for years, including during several emergencies that required both quick thinking and decisive action."
"Managing a modest country household is hardly comparable to organizing rescue operations in life-threatening conditions," he replied with the sort of dismissive tone that made her long to strike him. "This is not a matter for feminine interference, however well-intentioned."
The phrase 'feminine interference' struck her like a physical blow, reducing all her practical capabilities to irrelevant sentiment simply because of her sex.
She had expected better from him, particularly after their recent conversations had seemed to establish some measure of mutual respect for her intelligence and competence.
"Feminine interference," she repeated with dangerous quiet. "How remarkably enlightened of you, Your Grace. I had not realised that possession of a title automatically granted one superior wisdom in all matters relating to crisis management."
"It grants one responsibility for making decisions that affect the welfare of others, including decisions about who may safely participate in potentially dangerous activities."
"And it apparently grants one the right to dismiss the capabilities of others based upon entirely irrelevant considerations.
Tell me, do you suppose Mrs. Smith and her children will care whether their rescuer possesses masculine or feminine attributes, provided that rescuer proves effective in removing them from mortal peril? "
Her challenge hung in the air between them, highlighting the absurdity of his position while simultaneously establishing her determination to participate in rescue efforts regardless of his approval.
She could see the conflict playing across his scarred features as duty warred with protective instincts that seemed to extend beyond mere practical considerations.
"This discussion is pointless," he said finally, though his tone suggested he recognized the weakness of his position. "I am leaving immediately to oversee rescue operations, and I expect you to remain at the Manor where you will be safe from harm."
"Then you will be disappointed in your expectations, for I have every intention of making myself useful in whatever capacity circumstances require. You may choose to waste time arguing with me, or you may choose to accept my assistance and direct it toward productive ends."
Before he could respond to her ultimatum, she swept from the estate office with the sort of regal dignity that her new position afforded, leaving him to contemplate the uncomfortable reality that his duchess possessed a will every bit as formidable as his own.
***
The sight of Evangeline departing in such magnificent defiance filled Lucian with a complex mixture of admiration, fury, and a protective terror so profound that it threatened to paralyze his ability to function effectively.
She possessed the sort of courage that he had once valued so much, yet applied to circumstances that could result in her injury or death, such courage became a source of anguish rather than inspiration.
There was no time, however, to dwell upon domestic disputes when lives hung in the balance. The rescue operations required his immediate attention, and he forced himself to compartmentalize his concerns about his wife's safety in favor of addressing the more pressing needs of his trapped tenants.
***
The journey to the flooded areas of the estate proved every bit as treacherous as he had anticipated, with roads made nearly impassable by standing water and debris that had been swept down from the moors by the fury of the storm.
The small boats that had been hastily assembled for rescue purposes were barely adequate to the task, their shallow drafts and unstable construction making navigation through the current a test of both skill and nerve.
"Your Grace," called Thompson from the lead boat as they approached the cluster of submerged cottages, "the water's rising faster than we anticipated. We'll need to move quickly if we're to reach the families before the current becomes completely unmanageable."
Lucian nodded grimly, his military training automatically assessing the tactical situation and identifying the most efficient approach to what was essentially a battlefield evacuation under adverse conditions.
"Take the miller's house first—it's closest to our position and the family there includes two small children.
Then the Thornfield properties, and finally the Smith cottage. "