And when he looked up, the footman was already making his way back to the carriage, evidently instructed not to wait for a response this time. She had rejected his request to talk, just as he had rejected hers. And it stung, far more than he could have imagined.
What did I expect?he considered, staring once more at those two little letters, elegantly written. After all, it had been a week since he abandoned her, and even after emerging from his hiding place, he had not thought to write to her to explain and apologize and request a more formal meeting. Or, rather, he had thought of it, but he had not known what to say, beginning a thousand letters that had all ended up in the fire as kindling. He had assumed that speaking with her, face to face, would bring forth the words he needed and wanted to say.
“No, I cannot give up,” he told himself, under his breath. And with the threat of Olivia’s mother returning growing nearer, he knew he had to make his move now.
Getting up, he strode across the square, heading directly for the carriage. The footman seemed to be anticipating such an action and stepped in front of him with his hands up, as though he might push Evan if he had to.
“Apologies, M’Lord, but I can’t allow you to come any closer,” he said.
Evan narrowed his eyes. “Do you know who I am?”
“The Marquess of Bridfield.”
Of course…Evan could have hit himself for being so stupid.
“What I mean is, do you know who I am to her?” Evan tried again.
The footman nodded. “I do, M’Lord. That’s why, with respect, I won’t be allowing you any closer.”
“Olivia, will you just speak with me for a moment?” Evan called out, not caring who heard or who saw. “I know I do not deserve that generosity, but there are things that I must know. I thought that… I thought that you were—”
“Enough,” a sharp voice cut him off. “That is quite enough.”
Evan turned to find Olivia’s mother standing a few steps away, having appeared without detection. If rage had a face, it was hers in that moment. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glinting with threat, her slender hands balled into tight fists as she huffed and puffed through each breath.
“I will not have you embarrass my daughter in this place that is home to her,” Laura continued, nostrils flaring. “I will not have you sully the safe havens she has remaining.”
Evan swallowed thickly. “Please, Lady Canrave. I must speak with her.”
“Then, you may do the decent thing and write to her,” Laura retorted. “I noticed you have not done so yet.”
“I… did not know what to say,” he confessed, dropping his chin to his chest. “But, if I could be permitted a moment, I think we might be able to disperse some confusion.”
Laura sniffed. “The only confusion my daughter and I have pertains to your presence here. It is uncouth and it is unbecoming, and I suggest you depart at once.” She lowered her voice so only he could hear. “Have you not wounded her enough, Lord Bridfield? Be decent. Leave her be.”
Perhaps, it was the softness with which Laura spoke those last few words, or perhaps it was his own shame that led Evan to step back. Deep down, he supposed he had hoped that the romantic gesture of waiting for her might be enough to gain him a few minutes of her time, but he saw now that he had made a mess of things again. Heshouldhave written to her. He should have forced himself to spill his heart onto the page and wait for a reply. Instead, he had cornered her.
“I am sorry, Olivia,” he said, retreating. “I… am sorry.”
With him at a safe distance, Laura clambered into the carriage. A moment later, instruction made its way to the driver, who snapped the reins. The carriage trundled away as Evan looked on, and though he could not be certain, he thought he saw Olivia’s face peeking through the curtains, just for a moment. And there were tears in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Tears that he had caused.
But… I love her.His heart ached as the carriage turned a corner and disappeared.I cannot give up.
He had never had much of a military mind, but in battle, sometimes one needed to retreat to recover ground and rally one’s forces. He kept that in the forefront of his mind as he turned and headed back to the inn, where his horse awaited. It was time for Evan to return home.
After that, he did not know what he would do beyond writing that letter, but he knew one thing: he was not beaten yet.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
“No, but I could have listened to him. It would not have cost me anything to do so,” Olivia insisted, as she sat in the quaint gardens of Canrave Hall with Leah and Anna.
As if by fate, they had been waiting for her when she returned from Casterton, having called upon her not long after she departed for town. Olivia was grateful that they had decided not to leave and call upon her another day, for she needed her friends now more than ever, even at half their usual ranks.
Anna pulled a face as she toyed with a lavender stem she had picked from the fragrant, purple borders that surrounded the garden. “I think it would have cost you your pride, and that is beyond value,” she grumbled.
“I am inclined to agree,” Leah said, sipping from a cool glass of lemonade. “He should not have ambushed you like that. He should have written a letter of apology, awaited a reply to see if you were amenable to a conversation, and then come to this manor with his tail between his legs like a dog who has eaten your very best beef.”
Olivia nodded, shielding her face from the fierce sunlight with a parasol. “I suppose I am still too shocked to think rationally. If my mother had not returned when she did, I believe I would have accepted his request.” She paused, groaning. “And I was so looking forward to those cream buns.”
