"I see. So, we may expect further visits of this nature?"
"Almost certainly, though I suspect they will take different forms as Edmund explores various avenues of attack. He is nothing if not persistent when he sets his mind to achieving a particular objective."
Lucian found himself wondering what other weapons his cousin might deploy in his campaign to discredit their marriage. Edmund possessed both the social connections and the financial motivation to make their lives considerably more difficult than they had been thus far. The thought of Evangeline being subjected to public scrutiny and potential humiliation on Edmund's account filled him with the sort of bitter self-incrimination that had become his constant companion.
She had married him to escape destitution, accepting a practical arrangement that should have provided security and position. Instead, she now faced the possibility of scandal and legal challenges that were entirely his responsibility to bear. He had failed in his fundamental obligation to protect her from theconsequences of his own damaged circumstances.
"Lucian," Evangeline said quietly, turning from the window to face him with the sort of direct gaze that seemed to see through his carefully maintained facades, "you must know that whatever your cousin's machinations, I will not be driven away from our arrangement. I entered this marriage with full knowledge of its practical nature, and I am not easily intimidated by threats or manipulation."
The statement was delivered with characteristic directness, though he noted that she spoke of their marriage as an arrangement rather than anything more personal. She was offering him loyalty based on their business agreement, nothing more, and he found himself both grateful for her steadfastness and painfully aware of its limitations.
"You may come to regret such resolve," he said finally, his voice carrying the weight of his accumulated disappointments. "Edmund can be quite persuasive when he chooses to be. And he will certainly attempt to convince you that your interests would be better served by distance from your current circumstances."
"Then he will discover that his persuasive abilities have distinct limitations," she replied with the sort of quiet determination that marked her most resolute moments. "I am not easily swayed by charm or threats, as I believe you have observed."
The reference to their own combative courtship brought a wry twist to his scarred features. "Indeed, I have. Though Edmund possesses certain advantages in such matters that I decidedly lack."
"Such as?"
"An unscathed face, for one. A more agreeable disposition, for another. The sort of easy charm that appeals to women of sense and refinement."
"How curious," Evangeline said with a thoughtfulexpression that suggested she was considering his words carefully. "I found him rather calculated, actually. All surface polish with something quite unpleasant lurking beneath. Like a sword with a jeweled hilt concealing a blade gone to rust."
The observation was so apt that it surprised a brief smile from him despite the grimness of their circumstances. "That is perhaps the most accurate assessment of Edmund's character that I have ever heard."
"Then I am glad to have been of service," she replied with the sort of businesslike efficiency that characterized their best interactions. "Though I confess myself curious about his financial difficulties. How serious are they, do you suppose?"
"Serious enough to make him desperate, which is the most dangerous state imaginable for a man of his particular talents. I suspect we have not seen the last of Viscount Pembroke's interest in our domestic arrangements."
As if summoned by their conversation, a commotion in the courtyard outside drew their attention to the window, where Edmund could be seen mounting his horse with considerably less grace than he had displayed during their interview. His expression, no longer masked by social courtesy, revealed the sort of cold fury that suggested their conversation had not proceeded entirely as he had hoped.
"He does not appear to be departing in the best of spirits," Evangeline observed with evident satisfaction.
"No, though I suspect that will only make him more determined to find alternative approaches to achieving his objectives."
"Then we shall have to be more determined in defending against them," she replied with the sort of calm resolve that reminded him of why their practical arrangement had seemed so promising despite its lack of romantic foundation.
As they watched Edmund disappear down the drive in acloud of dust and evident displeasure, Lucian found himself reflecting on the peculiar nature of his circumstances. He had gained a wife whose intelligence and strength he genuinely respected, yet he remained as isolated and damaged as he had been before their marriage. Evangeline's presence in his life represented security and companionship, but it could not heal the fundamental wounds that war had inflicted upon both his body and his spirit.
The future remained as uncertain and fraught with difficulties as it had ever been, though now those difficulties threatened not merely his own welfare but that of a woman who deserved far better than the complications his damaged existence inevitably attracted. Edmund's visit had served as a stark reminder that some problems could not be solved through practical arrangements or mutual respect, no matter how genuine such feelings might be.
He was still a scarred, bitter man whose presence brought more trouble than comfort to those unfortunates enough to be bound to his fate. Marriage had not changed that fundamental reality, and he suspected it never would.
Chapter Nine
The evening following Viscount Pembroke's unwelcome departure brought with it the sort of oppressive quiet that seemed to settle over Ravenshollow Manor like a shroud, emphasizing the isolation that had become Evangeline's constant companion during these first tumultuous days of marriage. The dinner conversation had been even more stilted than usual, both she and Lucian apparently lost in contemplation of the threats and implications that their visitor had so elegantly deposited upon their doorstep like some particularly venomous calling card.
It was while seeking refuge from her own troubled thoughts that Evangeline found herself drawn once again to the library, that vast repository of knowledge and learning that seemed to represent the most appealing aspect of her new circumstances. The room held a particular fascination for her, not merely because of its impressive collection but because it offered glimpses into the mind and character of the enigmatic man she had married.
"Your Grace?" Higgins appeared in the doorway with his customary discretion, bearing a tea service that suggested Mrs. Cromwell had anticipated her retreat to this sanctuary. "His Grace has retired to his study for the evening. I thought you might appreciate some refreshment as you pursue your literary endeavours."
"Thank you, Higgins. That is most considerate." She accepted the tea with genuine gratitude, noting how the elderly butler's manner had grown warmer since her arrival, as though her presence had somehow reminded the household staff of more civilized times. "Tell me, has this library always been so extensively maintained?"
"Oh yes, Your Grace. His Grace's father was a great collector of books, as was his grandfather before him. The current Duke has added considerably to the collection himself, particularly works on military history and poetry, though he would not thank me for mentioning the latter."
The unexpected intelligence that her formidable husband possessed an interest in poetry struck Evangeline as delightfully incongruous, offering another small crack in the armor of bitter cynicism he wore so consistently. "Poetry? How fascinating. I would not have expected such aesthetic sensibilities from a gentleman of his practical nature."
"His Grace was quite different before the war, Your Grace. Quite different indeed." Higgins's expression grew wistful, as though he were remembering a person who had been lost rather than merely changed. "He was fond of music as well, though the pianoforte has remained silent since his return."
