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T his was probably a mistake, but Richard knew he had to make it.

He opened the door without knocking and almost ran into Cawthorne.

“My lord!”

“No time,” Richard said hastily. “Where is she?”

The butler merely stared in absolute astonishment, as though he could not believe what he was seeing. “But—But my lord, you cannot be here!”

“I need to see her,” Richard said calmly. At least, he thought he spoke calmly. His nerves were jangling and his lungs were tight and he had to see her.

Cawthorne blinked. “But my lord—”

“Where is Evelyn?” Richard persisted.

He should have done this days ago. Weeks ago. Why he had left it until today he did not know, but he was certain that he could not leave this unsaid.

Not on his wedding day.

A maid entered the hall and squealed as Richard strode toward her.

“Where is your mistress?”

“Th-The countess?” the maid spluttered, dropping the pile of linens she had been carrying.

Richard nodded. It would have made the most sense. Did not brides spend the mornings of their wedding day with their mothers, getting ready? Hair to be pinned and jewelry to select and… and that sort of thing?

Now he came to think, what did women do in preparation for weddings? He’d had a cigar and gotten dressed, a new valet named Dankworth hired especially to start by today. Surely, Evelyn did not smoke.

“Upstairs, of course,” the maid said, eyes wide. “But—”

“No time,” Richard shot over his shoulder as he took the stairs four at a time.

His pulse was pounding painfully, but not due to the exertion. It had been racing from the moment he had realized, about twenty minutes ago, that he had not told Evelyn enough. He had not been truly honest with her and if that were to come out…

He wanted to enter this marriage as he intended to continue it. With the truth between them and nothing else. He was not a liar, and he would make sure he never was.

He would just have to hope that she would not be angry with him.

Richard threw open a door but found an empty bedchamber. The next three were similarly devoid of his future bride. And—

“Richard!” Evelyn squealed as he burst into the bedchamber.

“My lord!” cried her mother.

“Oh, mon dieu !” Laurent said, stumbling backward and tripping over.

Richard halted, chest heaving, in the doorway.

Ah. Right . He should probably have knocked.

It wasn’t seemly to be bursting into lady’s bedchambers, even if he was about to marry its inhabitant.

Even if he had been upstairs here two nights ago, unbeknownst to the earl and countess, visiting his future bride and giving her further evidence of his potent affection for her…

His future mother-in-law stepped forward, eyebrow raised. “I suppose you have a good reason for your intrusion here?”

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride before they meet at the altar!” cried Laurent, who was being helped to her feet by a grinning…

Evelyn.

Richard’s shoulders slumped, all tension disappearing from them as he beheld the woman he loved. Goodness, but she was beautiful. And stifling laughter, which boded well.

At least, for now.

“Nothing is wrong, I trust, my lord?” asked the countess quickly.

Richard opened his mouth, then closed it again.

His instinct had been to say that yes, there was something wrong. Very wrong. All the happiness that had filled him these last few weeks—it wasn’t gone, exactly, but he was conscious that it could be gone at any moment.

If he didn’t tell her, she would find out. He didn’t know how, but she would. She’d spot one of those damned letters, perhaps, or overhear him giving instructions to Verwood to burn them. And then she would think—she would know that he had kept something else from her. Something important.

He met Evelyn’s eye. She was curious, he could see that in the tilt of her head and the curving of her mouth. Curious, but growing concerned with every moment of silence that he did not speak.

Richard swallowed. Speak, man!

“I need to talk to my future wife,” he said, his voice rasping.

Laurent disappeared through a door with a wink, but the Countess of Lindow did not move. “And should I be concerned, my lord?”

Richard did not look away from Evelyn as he spoke. “I am not certain yet.”

The two women exchanged a glance, and he did not miss the murmur.

Lady Lindow clasped her hands together in front of her. “I can stay if you—”

“No. Please, Mama. Within a few hours, I will have to do this on my own.”

His stomach curdled, though how, he did not know; he had only managed a mouthful of breakfast before starting off here.

“Do this on her own”? What was Evelyn talking about? Had they previously discussed him—oh, Christ, was this expected?

Richard managed to remain silent until the door closed behind his future mother-in-law, then he blurted out, “I should have told you this ages ago—”

“Do you mind if I sketch while you talk?” Evelyn asked breezily, turning from him and picking up a notebook. “It helps me think.”

All his carefully prepared statements disappeared out of his mind as Richard stared. “I… I don’t… What?”

“I always keep a pencil on me,” said Evelyn happily, pulling said pencil from her bodice.

Richard swallowed. Do not think about her bodice. Do not look at it. Do not admire the swell of her curves, the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, don’t think about—

Damn. Now that was all he could think of.

“You have a most puzzling expression,” said Evelyn softly as she lowered herself onto a chair and opened up her notebook. “I suppose we have the rest of our lives for me to attempt to capture your many facets, but I must say you are making it very difficult. So many, you see.”

“Evelyn,” Richard said, his voice half-strangled now.

Did she have any idea how disorienting it was, having her sit there? Knowing that he could pull the notebook aside and just kiss—

You came here for a reason.

The small voice at the back of his mind forced him to step forward. “Evelyn. I haven’t told you everything.”

“I don’t suppose you have,” she said, her voice vague now as her pencil started to move across the page.

Richard blinked. “You… You don’t?”

Evelyn only glanced up for a moment before returning to her drawing. “Well, we’ve only known each other a few months. We have a lifetime to discover—”

“No, I have to tell you this now,” he cut in, mouth dry.

Was she making this difficult on purpose? Or would it always have been thus?

He had never considered telling anyone this before. Even Walden only had a vague knowledge of what he had been up to on the Continent. It wasn’t for them to know—there had never been any reason to make the knowledge public. He certainly didn’t have the authority to tell the whole story.

But if she— when Evelyn found out, there would be hell to pay.

“I don’t want to start this marriage off on the wrong foot,” Richard said desperately, stepping forward and dropping onto the bed.

From here, he could see what she had been drawing. His nose. Did it really crinkle like that?

“You are most disobliging as a model, you know, moving before I am finished,” Evelyn said with a snort, turning over a page and peering at him. “Though this is an interesting angle. Right. Don’t move.”

The instinct to obey was strong, born perhaps from the hours that Richard had already spent modeling for her. But he had to push past it. He had to tell her. He could not allow her to continue in ignorance.

“My maid is right, by the way. It is bad luck for a groom to see his bride before she enters the church,” Evelyn added with a wry smile. “Not that I am that concerned. We were never going to be a conventional couple, were we?”

And her smile melted all the panic and fear iced around Richard’s heart until he could feel the rush within him.

His Evelyn. The one person in the world with whom he wanted to be honest. He could tell her anything, almost certainly, and she would… Well, at the very least hear him.

Whether or not there would be a wedding in a few hours… that was quite a different matter.

Richard swallowed. Now, how best to begin? “I was a spy.”

Oh, drat. He hadn’t intended to say it that baldly.

Evelyn said nothing. She was continuing to sketch his profile, her hand moving in a strong, confident sweep across the paper.

And she said nothing.

Richard cleared his throat. Perhaps she had not quite taken in the import of his statement. Hell, he’d have to tell her everything.

Well. Not everything. That belonged to the Crown.

“I was a spy. For the Crown, for the government, not someone just out for hire,” Richard added hastily.

The last thing he wanted was for Evelyn to misunderstand him.

“I was on the Continent for years, working there, attempting to serve my country. It’s why you hadn’t ever met me at a ball or Almack’s or the like.

It’s why most of Society has never heard of me. Doesn’t recognize me.”

The lead swept across the paper, darting here and there to add details. Evelyn glanced up but seemingly only to ascertain a detail, for she swiftly returned her attention to her notebook.

Richard’s pulse throbbed at his jaw. Did she not wish to look at him? Was she angry that he had kept this secret from her?

“It was dangerous, and as you have seen, there have been times when I have been… unpleasantly injured,” he continued in a low voice, not sure why when they were the only two in the room.

One could never be too careful, he supposed.

“And I didn’t want to put you in danger by telling you, which was my first instinct to keep this to myself, but I see now—I mean, I am hardly accustomed to telling people such a thing. And I realized this morning…”

Evelyn looked up and she was smiling. The adoration of her expression was golden sunlight onto his skin and Richard released the tension in his shoulder blades that he had not even realized had been there.