“Know what, my love?” she asked mournfully.
Evan’s father grinned as he plucked the dead daisies from her bonnet. “Of course, she did not know. She is innocent in this, but it is the innocent who must suffer, is it not?” He paused. “Though you were not innocent. You were wretched. You were in dire need of discipline, or you would have run wild. Every strike of my cane you deserved with your insolence, but I imagine none of those strikes stung as much as this, did they? Did you think I would let you defy me?”
“Olivia, get up. Come with me,” Evan urged, desperately reaching out his hand. But the more he reached, the tighter the thorns twisted around his legs, holding him in his father’s trap.
On the bench, she shook her head. “I cannot.” Her black eyes met his. “I cannot do this, Evan. My heart is broken. You broke your promise and now, I am stuck here.”
Evan jolted awake with a start, sweat pouring down his face, soaking through the bedlinens beneath him. Slowly, shakily, he sat up and reached out for the cup of liquor that sat on the bedside table. He gulped down a mouthful, feeling the burn of it all the way down his throat and into his stomach.
“Just a dream,” he mumbled. “It was just a dream. Olivia will recover. Shewasinvolved… and even if she was not, even if she was just a pawn, she would be happier with anyone but me.”
He had been at war with himself for the past three days, battling between what he knew, what he suspected, and what knowledge he was not privy to at all. Sometimes, he was furious with Olivia, firmly believing that she was a willing temptress, employed by his father to trick Evan into marriage, with the promise of becoming a Duchess one day as her reward. Other times, he was furious with himself for not speaking with Olivia first, not hearing her side of the story, not pausing for a few minutes to be certain. Between those times, he was just deeply sad, terrified that he had gotten it all wrong, remembering how happy they had been and the promises they had made to one another.
She would not forgive me,he knew. And in those moments, he was convinced Olivia would be better off without him in any circumstance. He was too broken to love without suspicion. He had even tried to imagine her finding a fine, worthy gentleman at the next ball she attended, though he had needed a large glass of brandy to chase the thought out again, swallowing up the jealousy that had spiked through him.
Of course, he knew that he had broken his own heart by leaving Olivia like that, denouncing her so publicly, but that did not mean it hurt any less. His every waking and sleeping thought was filled with her: a truly strange and cruel form of torment that was, in truth, more painful than any beating he had received as a child. But there was no undoing it. He had made his choice when he rode away, and though it should have felt good to defy his father and unravel all his father’s plans, the truth could not have been more opposite.
I truly will be miserable and alone now, more like my father than I have ever desired to be,he understood.Say I am wrong, say I have misunderstood; then, I will have hurt someone I care for. I would be… my father.
It sickened him, prompting him to swallow what was left in the cup and lumber out of bed in search of more to numb him. He was tired of feeling, tired of his head and heart fighting one another, tired of seeing her heartbroken face, tired of wishing he had not acted so rashly.
He had just picked up the bottle of brandy, glugging it into the cup, when a sound hammered through his pounding skull. Three loud bangs.
Gasping, he whirled around and stared at the door of his hideaway, his heart leaping into his throat as he wondered whether to hide and pretend he was not there, or whether to open the door to whoever was beyond it.
What if it is Olivia?He gulped, staring down at himself. He had not dressed properly for days and wore only a nightshirt.
Three more bangs thudded against the door, more insistent this time.
“Evan? I know you are in there. The gatekeeper gave up your secret!” a familiar voice said. “If you do not open the door, I shall break it down or climb through a window. I suggest you make this easy for yourself.”
Setting down the bottle with an anxious breath, Evan walked to the door and, turning the key with shaky hands, he opened it wide. He had been discovered at last, and though he had hoped he might have longer, he did not have the strength to keep hiding.
* * *
“Did it not occur to you that I might not wish to be found?” Evan asked sourly, retrieving his cup of brandy. He swilled it down in one mouthful, feeling the acid burn of it all the way into his stomach.
Daniel stared aghast at the hovel that had once been the gamekeeper’s cottage, everything in disarray, as if there had been a brawl or a ransacking. Of course, Evan knew he had only been wrestling with himself, and downed the dregs in the cup to hide his shame. He had made a mess of his betrothal, he had made a mess of his exit from Westyork, and he had made a mess of his sanctuary, too.
“Were you set upon by brigands?” Daniel gestured around himself.
Evan sprawled across an old leather armchair, draping his legs over one armrest. “I have not yet enquired after a maid,” he said drily. “As I mentioned, I was not expecting, nor desiring, company.”
“And did it not occur to you that all of us might wish to find you, to discover what on Earth has happened?” Daniel sank cautiously down into the armchair opposite his cousin. “One moment, you were more overjoyed than I have ever seen you, eager to begin your new life with Olivia—the next, you were riding away, leaving her in pieces.”
Evan scoffed. “Why should she be in pieces?”
Yes, why? Do tell me,his mind begged, desperate for a morsel of knowledge about the woman he had not stopped thinking about.
“Are you quite serious?” Daniel gaped at him. “She was in love with you, and you all but jilted her! Of course, she has attempted to be brave in front of all of us, but it is not difficult to see when a person is in great pain.Sheis in great pain. And Caro—well, Caro has gone into hiding and will not emerge, will not eat, will not speak. She is devastated.”
Evan poured a fresh cup full of brandy, his heart sore. “Caro is upset?”
“Of course, she is. Everyone is muttering about you being a terrible scoundrel, and though she does not want to believe it, she cannot ignore it for you have wounded the only friend she has ever had, beyond her family. You have broken two hearts, Evan, and I would know why,” Daniel retorted, eyeing the cup full of brandy as if it were poison.
Evan stared down into the gleaming surface of the dark, amber liquid, perhaps hoping to find answers somewhere within. He had not thought of Caroline and had certainly given no sliver of his mind to his aunt, who was partially responsible for this debacle. If Amelia had mentioned, just once, what she knew about the arrangement, everyone could have been spared some trouble.
“My father is the scoundrel,” Evan grumbled, sipping his brandy more delicately, this time.
