All of the color drained from Martin’s face, his bottom lip quivering with the power of a rage that Evan had seen more than enough times. “How dare you speak to me like that,” he hissed. “How dare—”
“How dare I say everything that someone should have said years ago?” Evan interrupted, aware that everyone in the hallway and even in the ballroom was staring. “How dare I say everything that my aunt probably said, when she saved me from you? I have no doubt that, one day, you would have killed me during one of your fits of anger, but I do not have to stand here and listen to you anymore. It is a liberating realization. Nor will you gain a single thing from me. Your elaborate plot ends here. There will be no wedding, Father, and if I must die as alone and miserable as you to ensure you are punished, so be it.”
He stalked straight past his father, not stopping until he reached fresh air. And as he stood there on the bottom step of the porch, he stared at the main gates in the distance and wondered,What have I just done?
There was no possible way that Olivia had not heard. And no possible way he could marry her now, either. She had joined forces with his father, the two of them—three of them, including her father—likely conjuring the scheme to make her seem indifferent at first before pretending to fall helplessly in love with him, no doubt knowing how desperately he craved affection. He was certain of it; he could smell the rot of his father’s influence. So, how could he ever marry someone like that?
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
“Olivia! Olivia, where are you?” A quartet of voices echoed through the manor house, drifting toward Olivia, who sat on the terrace just outside the refreshment room. With a mouthful of lemon ice, she turned in alarm at the sound of her name being called.
“Here!” she shouted back, almost choking on the slightly sour treat.
A moment later, her friends barreled out onto the terrace, narrowly avoiding knocking into two other ladies who had sought the fresh air and delicious delicacies. The two women scowled at the rowdy group and swiftly returned indoors, muttering under their breaths about “spinsters” and “the fall of polite society.”
“I told you,” Olivia said, swallowing the ice, “I no longer require any help to avoid this union. I know you do not favor the notion, but I really am falling in love with him. So, please, do not attempt to kidnap me.” She chuckled, waiting for her friends to join in with the jest, but Matilda, Phoebe, and Leah looked as if they had seen a ghoul while Anna was on the verge of tears.
“It is too awful,” Anna whimpered, blinking furiously.
Olivia got up from the stone bench she had been perching upon. “What is? Why do you all resemble society mothers who have just discovered they have not been invited to a single ball?” She fought to keep her tone light, but fear simmered within, bubbling up.
“You must come with us,” Matilda said, sticking out her hand. “And you must hurry.”
“Hurry? Why?” Olivia took the offered hand.
Phoebe took her other hand. “We will explain as we run. Just put your faith in us; we are not trying to kidnap you. Not yet, anyway, though the evening is still young.”
There was a hitch in Phoebe’s voice that spiked worry directly into Olivia’s heart. Phoebe, too, was trying to keep her tone light, and that suggested there was something very wrong going on indeed.
As Olivia allowed herself to be dragged around the exterior of the manor house, uncertain of where she was being led, her friends informed her of everything she had missed after Evan had left her side and she had wandered off in search of refreshment. Considering none of the ladies were much good at running, the story came in breathless fits and starts, leaving Olivia to weave it together into the whole, terrible picture.
“Big argument,” Leah wheezed.
“Your betrothed called his father weak and pathetic,” Matilda added, sweating profusely. “Said he was not worthy of being a duke.”
“Something about dead brothers,” Phoebe rasped.
Anna, tears streaming down her cheeks, nodded. “Then, he said he would not marry you.”
“He said there would be no wedding,” Matilda corrected.
“Is that not one and the same?” Anna wailed, rubbing her eyes as she ran.
Olivia’s legs almost buckled beneath her, but Phoebe and Matilda held her tightly, keeping her on her feet as they continued to drag her around the vast manor. They drew some strange looks from the guests who had sought peace and quiet in the gardens and upon the various terraces, but Olivia did not care; she just wanted to know what on Earth was going on.
“What caused it?” Olivia panted, trying to steady her spiraling thoughts. “Why did they begin bellowing at one another in the first place?”
“We do not know,” Leah replied. “We did not hear that part.”
“We tried to ask those around us,” Phoebe added, “but it seems no one heard. They only heard the conclusion.”
Anna sniffed. “Your betrothed stormed off.”
“And that is why you are taking me around the house?” Olivia had not figured out that part, any more than she had figured out why Evan suddenly did not wish to marry her anymore.
Matilda cleared her throat. “We think he might be leaving. Ergo, he will be in need of his horse.” She winced. “I wish we had taken horses. I must run more often, for one never knows when they might be chased.”
“And… I am to do what?” Olivia gasped, her own eyes pricking with tears of confusion. “If he has announced, rather publicly, that he has cast me aside, should I… what? Beg?”
