Evan mustered a stiff laugh. “You must have had quite a charming childhood, but I cannot promise we will continue any of your traditions when we are married. I prefer to hibernate in the colder months, waiting for spring and summer. I doubt you shall see me at all when the seasons change for the worse.”
“No matter,” she replied, refusing to bite, though his words caused a strange twinge in her chest. “I will simply spend the colder months with my dear friends. They will uphold our traditions. Why do you think we formed our club—to ensure that not one of us ever found ourselves mired in boredom.”
“And your friends would make such a journey often?” he retorted as if he did not believe it. “Lisbret House is in the north of the country.”
“You do not yet possess Lisbret House,” she replied evenly. “And the journey here is not so laborious.”
Evan sniffed. “My father could die next week, for all we know.”
“Yet, I get the feeling that he is the sort of stubborn fellow who will refuse to die, simply to spite you,” she shot back, instantly regretting it. She had said too much, too knowledgeably.
To her surprise, Evan laughed. “You are more perceptive than you realize, Olivia. They say that good health and fresh air and saltwater is the foundation of a long life, but they know nothing—the real key to living a long, long time is to resent everyone, hide away in darkness for most of the year, and replace one’s blood with vinegar and all things bitter and sour.” He gestured around at the sunlit gardens, where every flowerbed exploded with color and life, the air filled with the perfume of their blooms. “You can tend to a plant with all the care in the world, and it may not grow, but rest assured that the weeds, left to their own devices, will flourish even in the darkest corners, strangling the vitality from the soil, forbidding anything else to thrive.”
“Your father is a weed,” Olivia said, for it was not a question. Though, she perceived him as something worse—a poisonous vine or a wasp hiding inside a bramble bush.
Evan chuckled. “Precisely.”
“Then, what are you? Are you a flower that tried its best to grow well, only to be trapped in shadow and weak soil, or are you a weed too, trying to be seen as a flower?”
Evan eyed her warily. “I would not dare to answer such a question. You shall have to answer for me—what do you perceive me to be: a flower or a weed?”
“I am no gardener, Evan, but I am still attempting to figure that out.” She offered him a smile, unwilling to venture into the details of her conflict. Earlier, when he had held her close, he had seemed to be the most rare and delicate bloom, something to cherish and keep close. But then, at other times, he was more of a dandelion or a buttercup, not unpleasant to behold, but still a weed that could ruin a perfectly pristine lawn.
“Indeed, for now, I am content to think of you as a daisy,” she added after a moment.
He tilted his head to one side. “A daisy? Is that, perhaps, because you are fond of them?” That sultry note had returned to his voice, making her withdraw. She did not enjoy this façade of his, and though she did not know if what she had seen of him when he held her was his true self or a clever act, she much preferred it to the rakish flirtations.
“I am not fond of them,” she insisted.
“But you wear them upon your bonnet.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, because they are common, and they are easily replaced when they wilt. Not quite a garden-worthy flower, not quite a weed, but pleasant enough to wear upon a bonnet.”
He stared at her, and a flicker of something akin to anger flashed in his eyes. “You think me common?”
“I think rakes are exceedingly common in society. Too common, if the scandal sheets and gossipmongers are to be believed,” she replied.
“So, you mean that you seek to replace me, or that I will be easy to replace? Is that what you truly intend to do in the colder months, inviting ‘friends’ to our residence to keep you warm?” Bitterness laced his voice, and her courage faltered. Maybe, for once, she had gone too far.
Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders, holding her nerve. “I am not you, Evan. I require no gentleman to keep me warm. I have never sought one as you have sought ladies, but here we are, betrothed regardless. I will uphold my duty and loyalty, but I do not know if I can expect the same from you.” She paused. “As such, my offer for you to break this engagement shall remain open until there is a church and a reverend and it is too late for either of us to undo it.”
“How gracious of you,” he said, the growl in his voice softening to that silky tone that echoed false. “Yet, you seem to be the one that keeps repeating the prospect of our separation. If you long for it so dearly, why not sever the thread of this fate of ours yourself?”
“I… did not say I wanted to. I said I did not trust you; there is a difference,” she replied haltingly. Pressured as she was, she would not tell him outright that marriage was the very last thing she wanted, and if it came to it, she would run before she ever had to speak a vow to him.
He smiled slyly. “Is there? Caro and my aunt swear that a happy marriage is built upon a foundation of humor and good will, but I think you believe differently.”
“You know my mind, do you?” Olivia challenged, suddenly feeling very warm and uncomfortable. She glanced toward Caroline and Daniel, but they had wandered on ahead. Too far ahead.
He laughed darkly. “I know you think a marriage without trust and loyalty is no marriage at all.”
“How?” she gasped, for Amelia could not have known that, nor could she have passed on the knowledge to Evan. And her mother would not have said anything, lest it cast her marriage in a dim light.
He leaned in, close to her ear. “Call it an educated assumption that you have just confirmed.” He drew back, sauntering toward his cousins, but not before tossing one last remark over his shoulder, “Why else would you join a club that detests gentlemen?”
Olivia stared at his irritatingly excellent physique and noble posture, frozen to the spot as his words washed over her in a cold wave. Evidently, he had been doing his research while she had been enjoying tea and cake with Caroline and Amelia, and if she wished to seize her freedom from the jaws of nuptial servitude, she was going to have to change her tactics before it was too late. The story of his past had stalled her scheme for a while, but no more; she had to make him hate her and quickly, even if it meant stooping to the lowest depths.
Hurry here, my friends,she begged, her heart thundering.I have never needed you more.
