Emma’s heart twisted. “Alexander...”
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know I hurt you when we were younger. I thought I was doing what was best, but I see now that I only left you feeling abandoned. Evan’s actions may seem similar, but I truly believe he meant no harm. I think he loves you, Emma.”
Emma’s defenses wavered. She looked at her brother, searching his face for doubt but finding only sincerity. Finally, she nodded, though reluctance clung to her every movement. “Very well. You can send him in.”
Alexander rose, brushing her hair back with a tenderness she hadn’t felt from him in years. “I’ll bring him to you. Give him a chance, Emma. That’s all I ask.”
As he left the room, Emma leaned back against the pillows, her heart pounding.
What truth could possibly justify everything he’d done?And yet, a small, quiet voice in her heart whispered that maybe—just maybe—Evan’s intentions weren’t what she’d feared.
CHAPTER 41
Emma
Evan entered the room with measured steps, his face shadowed with weariness. Emma’s eyes darted to him, wary yet searching, though she said nothing as he approached. Her head throbbed faintly, and she pressed herself back against the pillows as if bracing for impact.
“Emma,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. He hesitated, standing at the foot of her bed, before gesturing to the edge of the mattress. “May I sit?”
Her response was curt. “I would rather you didn’t.”
A faint shadow crossed his face, but he inclined his head. Pulling a chair closer to the bed, he seated himself. His fingers laced together tightly as though his very hands were struggling to hold back the weight of his words.
“I thank you,” he began, “for allowing me the chance to speak.”
Emma straightened slightly, though the motion made her wince. “I’ve agreed to hear you,” she replied, her tone frosty. “So tell me what you’ve come to say. Let us have it done with. Who is Rose?”
The name hung in the air like a specter. Evan’s lips parted, but no sound came. Instead, he wet them nervously and looked to the floor, his brows knitting. For a moment, Emma thought he would not answer. But when he spoke, his voice carried a weight she could not ignore.
“I should have told you long ago,” he said, his words deliberate, “but it was not my secret to tell. It was my mother’s secret. And Rose’s.”
Emma’s frown deepened. “Your mother’s secret?” she echoed, incredulous. “How could your secret mistress possibly have been your mother’s secret who has been dead for more than a decade?”
Evan shook his head, a hint of frustration slipping into his features. “You are mistaken,” he said firmly. “Rose is not—nor has she ever been—my mistress.” He paused, his voice softening. “She is my sister.”
Emma’s breath caught, her lips parting in astonishment. “Your sister?” she repeated, as though the words themselves were foreign.
“Yes,” he said. “Half-sister to be exact.”
Her mind reeled, the revelation at odds with everything she had believed. “How can that be?” she demanded. “The letter I read—it made it quite clear she was far more to you than a sister.”
“I know what it seemed to imply,” he admitted, his gaze earnest. “But it is not so. Our relationship has been fraught, yes, but only because of the circumstances of her birth—and the secrecy surrounding it. We have a deep love and understanding of one another and she has rather lofty ideas of who I should be. She thinks I have the potential to be someone grand, as she says and we had somewhat of a falling out when I told her of my intentions to marry you after… well, after you broke up my wedding to Ophelia.”
Emma shook her head slowly, confusion and disbelief warring within her. “You cannot expect me to believe this. You were an only child. That is well known.”
Evan leaned forward, his voice tinged with a quiet urgency. “It is true that my parents had only one child together,” he said. “But my mother had another child. A love child. Rose was born of her clandestine relationship with Mr. Hatfield—the stable master.”
“The stable master?” Emma repeated, the pieces beginning to fall into place. Her heart beat faster, realization dawning with painful clarity. That was who Hatfield had meant when he’d asked Evan to speak to ‘her’. Evan had said they were on better terms now – she’d assumed he meant her, Emma, but he’d spoken of Rose.
“He was here because of her?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “He is seeking a connection to Rose but she is reluctant. That is why he came. Rose is seventeen now. She is young, but her life has been shadowed by the choices made before her birth.”
Emma’s lips trembled as her mind tried to make sense of all of this. “Your mother had a child with the stable master? I can hardly believe it.”
Evan’s jaw tightened. “You must understand. My father was a cruel man. He tormented my mother—verbally, physically. He sought only to control her, to make her his obedient wife. He ensured she had nobody to talk to, no friends. I am sure you heard he would send away all young servants from the estate.”
“Mrs. Havisham told me,” she admitted.
