The three men settled into a comfortable camaraderie, their conversation drifting from vineyards to politics and back again. Jonathan couldn’t help but smile to himself. For once, Evan seemed truly at ease. Defending Emma had felt right, good even. It was as though he’d finally stepped out of his father’s shadowand into the light, becoming the kind of man his mother would have been proud of.
As the evening wore on, Evan rose to leave. He was halfway to the door when Jonathan hurried after him, a small package wrapped in brown paper in his hand.
“Evan, I have something to give you,” he said.
“Have I forgotten my own birthday?” Evan teased, arching a brow as he accepted the parcel.
Jonathan shook his head, his grin sheepish. “It’s not for me. It’s for Bridget.”
Evan’s brow furrowed in surprise. “Bridget? What’s this about?”
“Just some sweetmeats,” Jonathan replied casually. “She mentioned once that she loved marzipan and barley-sugar candies. I thought she might enjoy them.”
Evan’s expression turned serious, his tone softening. “Jonathan, you need to be careful. You can’t go raising her hopes unnecessarily.”
Jonathan’s smile faltered, but he shook his head firmly. “I have no intentions toward Brigitte, Evan. It was her birthday. That’s all. I gave your valet a gift for his birthday last month.”
Evan regarded him for a moment before nodding. “Very well.” He tucked the package under his arm and climbed into his waiting carriage, the faint sound of rain pattering against the roof as it pulled away from the club.
CHAPTER 33
Emma
Emma sat in the warm, inviting parlor of Hanna’s home, her cheeks glowing from both the fire’s heat and the happiness swelling in her chest. Rain drummed gently against the windowpanes, a soft symphony underscoring the crackle of the cedarwood fire. The room was cozy and familiar, decorated with vases of fresh winter greenery and the faint scent of baking spices wafting from below stairs. Hanna and Arabella sat with her, their curiosity piqued as Emma recounted the events of the past few days.
“And then…” Emma hesitated, pressing her fingers to her lips as if holding the memory close. “He kissed me.”
Arabella, settled elegantly on the settee, clapped her hands together in delight, her sapphire gown catching the firelight. “Oh, Emma! That’s wonderful news! I knew things would come around. You deserve this happiness more than anyone.”
Hanna leaned forward from her chair, her hands folded in her lap. Her smile was gentler but no less warm. “It sounds as though Evan is finally showing you his true self. I’m so happy for you. Truly.”
Emma ducked her head, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “It feels... different now. Real. As though we’re no longer just fulfilling an agreement. He shared so much with me last night—things I don’t think he’s ever told anyone else. About his father, his mother...” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. “I had no idea what he’d endured.”
Arabella’s joy dimmed slightly, her expression turning thoughtful. “It makes sense now, doesn’t it? The way he’s carried himself all these years, the choices he’s made. Men like Evan don’t end up as they are without reason.”
She exchanged a knowing glance with Hanna. “It’s not unlike what we endured with Father.”
Hanna sighed, her brow furrowing as she gazed into the flickering flames. “It’s tragic how deeply their actions ripple outward. It’s not just us who’ve been affected. Alexander, our marriages, even the children. Their cruelty casts such a long shadow.”
Emma nodded slowly, her mind drifting to their own childhood and the fear that had hung over their family like a storm cloud. “I see it in Evan,” she admitted softly. “That same shadow. He told me he’s spent his whole life trying not to be like his father,but the fear of it haunts him. He’s carried it for so long, and it’s shaped so much of who he is. I just... I want to help him let it go.”
Arabella reached over to squeeze Emma’s hand, her earlier cheer replaced with earnestness. “You’re already doing that, Emma. Just by being there for him, by seeing him for who he truly is. That’s the kind of love people dream of.”
Emma’s cheeks flushed at the word “love,” but she didn’t deny it. The warmth in her chest spoke for itself. “It’s strange,” she admitted. “After all my doubts and fears, I feel... safe with him now. As though the man I’ve come to know these past few weeks is the real Evan, not the version of him everyone else sees.”
Hanna smiled gently. “Love has a way of revealing truths, doesn’t it? And it changes us, too. For the better.”
Arabella, who had been silent for a moment, sighed wistfully. “You’re lucky, Emma. And so is Evan. I wish our mother could see the people we’ve become despite everything. It’s a miracle, really.”
Hanna’s expression softened, though her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “It is a miracle that all of us have turned out to be such decent people,” she agreed. “Especially Alexander. I was so angry at him for years, But now...” She shook her head. “Now I see that he was just trying to survive. Just like the rest of us.”
Emma felt a pang of understanding. “Evan said something similar. That he’s been fighting so hard not to become like his father that it’s shaped everything he does. But he’s realized thatthe fight has been holding him back. He wants to be better. For himself... and for me.” Her voice faltered slightly, but the truth of it steadied her. “And I believe he can.”
The fire crackled softly, and the rain continued its gentle rhythm against the windows. For the first time in years, Emma felt a profound sense of peace. She wasn’t alone in her struggles; her sisters had faced their own trials and emerged stronger. And now, she had Evan—a man she was beginning to realize she truly loved.
Hanna poured another round of tea, her smile returning as she placed the teapot back on the tray. “To new beginnings,” she said, raising her cup in a quiet toast.
Emma and Arabella followed suit, their cups clinking softly in the warm glow of the firelight. “To new beginnings,” Emma echoed, her heart full.
