Chapter Fourteen
Richard paced the floor. He had not slept in twenty-four hours. His mind was in turmoil and irrevocably frozen on the piercing pain that he had seen in Evie’s eyes.
It is me who will never marry a man like you.
Her words haunted him. He had always been so decisive choosing his path in life, so certain of his purpose in all he did, yet now he felt adrift, and his heart warned him he had made a mistake that he would never recover from. He could only hope with time she would understand he did this to save her from a life of bitterness.
God’s blood. There was a damned hole in his chest, one that felt as if it was incapable of being healed. Not even when Aurelia had thrown him over for her rich earl had he felt such a sense of wrenching loss. Evie had been such a constant in his life these years that he’d never once imagined her not part of it. She made him feel as if he belonged, a feeling that had been missing from his life for the longest time.
He couldn’t imagine never having the comfort and pleasure of Evie’s friendship to cling to when he felt lonely.
You have broken my trust…you’ve broken me…I never want to see you again. She was the one person he wanted more than anything, and he’d hurt her. Hell’s teeth. Somehow, he’d never thought they would have such a break in their friendship. He couldn’t imagine losing her good opinion forever.
He ruthlessly tried to squash the emotional upheaval so he could try to consider rationally what to do concerning the scandal roaring through the ton. A day had not fully passed, and several scandal sheets had already mentioned their midnight assignation while attaching all manner of lurid speculation to their names. The bloody vultures. One had even theorized perhaps they had been eloping to Gretna Green because Lady Evie had fallen prey to his seductive wiles. Christ, if they knew how bold and intriguing she had been. Another had painted him a marauding scarred villain, an outcast from society who had tried to debauch their fair diamond.
He would need to do all in his power to stem the tide of gossip. It would shred Evie to be the butt of such scandal, and he needed to do everything to protect her reputation, simply because it was important to her. Richard could walk away unchallenged from any taint society wanted to paint over his name, he had been doing it for years. This new scandal was just another in the unending speculation into his life since he had claimed his daughter. Though he was damned glad the society gossips were painting him the rightful debaucher and villain, and Evie their wronged innocent.
He’d crafted two plans of action. If Evie proved to be without child, he would find a gentleman of upstanding qualities and circumstances for her to wed, and the man would understand his life would be at risk if he ever hurt her. Richard would use all his wealth and influence to bury all scandal shrouding her name, even if he had to resort to blackmail to get it done.
He slapped a hand against his chest at the pain that pierced him at the thought of Evie on another’s arm. Christ. When would he be able to move past this hunger and the torturous need for her?
If she was with child, they would wed and face the storm together, and pray they were not wrecked in the aftermath. The sense of rightness that filled him at that solution had Richard gritting his teeth.
There was a commotion outside, and his butler, Mr. Nugent, shouted a curse, and then it seemed as if he tussled with someone. Richard reached for the cane with his foil and exited his library on light feet, prowling through the hallway toward the entrance of the manor.
He appeared in time to see a disheveled Ravenswood punching Mr. Nugent flat on his ass. Richard had expected Elliot, the man was Evie’s protective older brother, and he fully expected Elliot to challenge him to a duel.
“Ravenswood,” Richard said calmly. He flicked a glance at his butler who had launched to his feet with a dangerous glower. “It’s quite fine, Mr. Nugent. I’ve been expecting Lord Ravenswood. Shall we take this to the library?”
Without waiting for an answer, Richard spun on his heel and went back to the library. He’d expected this reckoning from the minute he had taken her home to his estate with some of the ton’s most interfering gossips following and observing. His only concern had been to remove her soaked clothes and stop her shivering. Propriety be damned, Evie’s health had been a priority.
At Kencourt Manor, he’d taken her to his rooms, undressed her and dried her hair, and had her clothes laundered. He stayed up through the night, watching her, forcing her awake to drink water when she had muttered of her thirst. In the morning, at her insistence, he had delivered a quiet and somber Evie to Rosette Park. She had traveled in his carriage, and he had ridden his horse beside her, understanding their relationship had irrevocably changed and at a loss on how to fix the damage his actions had wrought.
He allowed Elliot to precede him into the library, and then Richard closed the door.
His friend spun to face him, raking his fingers through his tousled hair. His eyes were red, and Richard had never seen the viscount look so unkempt. Regret kicked him hard and brutal in the gut.
“Elliot, I—”
“What happened? We were sent an urgent summons by the Duchess of Wolverton to attend Evie at Rosette Park. Despite our questions, Her Grace has remained tight-lipped on how you came to deliver Evie to her home in such a state. The newspapers with their God-awful speculations have not helped. Mother collapsed and is prostrate with grief. She is beside herself with fear. I’ve never seen Father so broken and lost. An explanation must be had, man.”
Richard frowned. Fear? The countess was very much concerned with her social standing and the rumormongering of society, but he’d never believe a scandal would elicit such a reaction. Her father is broken? Christ, he had much to repair.
“It is complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it,” Elliot snarled, fisting his hands at his side. “What the hell were you doing with my sister? Lord Muir said he came upon you in the rain with her in your arms. I demand an explanation.”
Richard walked over to the mantel, leaned his cane against the wall, and poured brandy into two glasses. He handed one to the viscount, while he downed the other.
“With the aid of the Duke of Wolverton, Evie had me kidnapped. The axle on our carriage broke, we argued, I was harsh, and she fled into the rain. I ran after her,” he said succinctly.
Elliot froze. “Evie kidnapped you?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “That makes no sense. And Wolverton helped her? To what purpose? Why would she do this?”
Richard braced himself. “For I had compromised her virtue, and she was fierce and courageous in defending her honor by forcing me to marry her.”
The glass in Elliot’s hand shattered, and cold rage leaped in his eyes. He opened his palm and allowed the shards of glass and liquid to drop to the green Persian carpet. Richard expected him to issue a challenge, or haul off and punch him in the face, and he was flummoxed when Elliot did neither. Instead, he pressed his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
When his lids flickered open, a warning slithered through Richard at the fear he saw. What the hell was this?
“I’ve always known Evie loved you,” Elliot murmured, his voice rough with grief. “I knew it, and I did nothing to curb the desire or to limit the friendship you and she formed, though it was so unorthodox and had come under scrutiny more than once. Lady Trenear had ripped your heart open, and then society tried to finish the job because you loved your daughter…and I thought Evie’s genuine warmth, her gentle grace and beauty, would save you from that cold, lonely place you seem to reside in.” A rough bark of a laugh slipped from him. “Knowing Evie’s stubborn nature, the minute Mother and Father brought more pressure to wed as they are doing to me, she would have tried to secure your hand by any means possible. I’m certain you had no understanding as to what the hell was happening. I should put a bullet in you for succumbing and making her feel as if she needed to force your hand, but what the hell does it all matter now?”
Richard despised the weak feeling that assailed him and turned his mouth dry. Ah Christ. Please, God. “Don’t say it,” he said gruffly. “Don’t you fucking say it, Elliot.”
“She is very ill,” he whispered. “She is fevered and senseless. The doctors have bled her twice, but there is no improvement. The only news they have to report is that we must prepare ourselves.”
Raw fear blasted through Richard. A snarl of denial spilled into the room, shocking him. “What the hell are you talking about? Prepare ourselves?”
“The doctors said—”
“I do not give a damn what the doctors said. Evie will not die. Where is she?”
“She is still at Rosette Park. We did not move her.”
Richard launched into motion, grabbing his coat and hat, calling for his stallion. Within a few minutes, he was away from Kencourt, Elliot following closely on his heels. Fear held him in a grip he had never endured before. His brother Francis had been robust and strong, and a fever had claimed his life. For five days, he had battled for his life, and the doctors had bled him, too, to purge his blood, and he had still died. What chance did Evie have being so fragile?
It was all his fault.
He rode along the country road, like a madman, bargaining with God the entire time. A lesson from his younger days in attending church roared in his mind.
“Prayer without ceasing. In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
He thanked God for Evie, her faith and her trust when even his parents had abandoned him. He thanked God for her smiles, her warmth and generosity of heart with his children, and the love she had for his black heart. Richard’s entire journey, he prayed unceasingly for Evie to recover. He would become a broken man without her and nothing could ever put him back, but more so, she deserved a chance at happiness with a family of her own. Her joy and grace of spirit could not be snuffed out. Not yet, not for another fifty years or more.
Less than an hour later, he reached Rosette Hall. He had launched from his stallion before the horse had fully stopped and dropped the reins. Elliot only arrived seconds behind him.
“Richard,” Elliot yelled.
He ignored him and clambered up the front steps. He wrenched the door open without knocking.
Adel, who had been climbing the stairs with flowers in her hands, faltered. “Lord Westfall!”
“Where is Evie?”
“I was taking these to her rooms,” she said, holding up the vase.
“Is she…” His throat closed. “I must see her.” He hurried from the hallway and started to bound up the stairs, only to halt as her father stood on the upper steps, his hands fisted at his side. “You damn blackguard, you will not enter Evie’s chamber.”
“Do not make an enemy of me,” Richard snapped, low and hard. “If you try to keep her from me…” His throat burned, and he hardly gave a fuck when tears pricked behind his lids. Richard did not care if he seemed weak because he was nearly insensate with fear and desperate to see her before she…
No…Evie cannot die.
Lord Gladstone’s eyes widened. “You love her,” he said, shock echoing in his voice.
She owns me.
“Remove yourself from my path. I need to see her.”
“Father,” Elliot said from behind. “Evie would want to see him.”
The earl hesitated and then stepped aside. “She is in the third room on the right.”
“Thank you,” Richard said, then rushed to the chamber.
He gently opened the door and entered, with Elliot his shadow. The ache in Richard’s chest became a physical thing, and as he strode to her bedside, there was no ease in its tightening grip. Ah Christ, now it seemed so damnable foolish how he had kept her at arm’s length, the one woman to have been his constant dream companion for so many years. He couldn’t touch the thought of life without her.
A maid who had been pressing a compress to Evie’s forehead glanced up.
“Let me,” he said. “Get some ice and more cool water.”
She responded to his command without question, and with a quick bob, hurried from the room.
He drew a chair from the window to her bedside and lowered himself into it. Evie appeared so damned vulnerable, a pain he had never felt before in his life arrowed through his heart. “Evie…” His voice was hoarse, his throat felt raw. He lightly encircled her wrist. Her pulse was weak, yet fluttering so fast. Her skin felt so damn hot. The red marks left from the device they used to bleed her filled him with despair and rage in equal measure.
In all the years we have been friends, this is what you truly believe in me as a person?
Richard closed his eyes against the whisper of her hurt.
“You are haunting me,” he said softly.
Elliot stiffened, but Richard hardly gave a damn.
“You truly care,” Elliot murmured. “Why did you not offer marriage…after…” His teeth snapped together as if he couldn’t bear admitting out loud his sister was no longer chaste.
Self-loathing ripped through Richard’s gut. “I feared I would ruin her. You know my reputation, and you know how bloody my hands have been. While I hardly give a damn when polite society tries to besmirch my honor and reputation, it would gut Evie. How could she withstand a man like me in her life? She is truly gentle…and so wonderful…and kind…and if they hurt her, I would make them suffer for it.”
A resigned sigh echoed from Elliot. “You are right. Evie is very weak and inconstant, she wouldn’t have lasted a month as your marchioness. Her days would have been spent weeping to our mother—”
“Evie is not weak,” Richard said, low and hard. “Hell, she never truly shied away from my dastardly reputation. It was like she chose not to see it, ignoring polite society and doing what she pleased and damned the consequences.”
The awareness of it settled in his gut like a boulder. He’d wanted to protect her from her own folly and hopeless generosity of spirit. Evie had never really possessed the air and pretentiousness of the ladies of the ton. She stood firm even when his own family had shunned him publicly. He never wanted her to endure the tearing loss he had felt in those first several months, where he had longed to sit and argue with his father, endure the clucking of his mother to find a wife, and his sister…how he had missed her. Yet at the heart of that…he simply hadn’t trusted in the gentle strength that had been staring at him since he’d met her at sixteen.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Could I really have been so blind?
“Do not speak of your sister as weak, especially now when she is fighting to be with us.”
Elliot’s lips barely moved in a smile. “I was simply checking to see if you knew her worth and strength. Evie would never abandon you, even if our mother and father were to exile her. You are her happiness, and I’ve known it a long time.”
The softest of moans came from her, and he hoped it was not distress because she heard his voice. The depth of emotion Richard felt for her was somewhat frightening. He’d once advised Wolverton to hold onto his duchess, instead of even wasting a second of time he could spend with her. If only Richard had taken his own advice. “Evie, please fight…”
The maid returned to the room with chips of ice. He took the bowl, collected the ice, and wetted the dry cracks of her lips for several minutes.
He then spent the next hour sponging the skin he had access to, telling her stories of his children, asking her for forgiveness. Not once did the fear leave his heart, for he saw no improvement. The doctor returned, and when he tried to bleed her again to reduce a supposed inflammation in her blood, Richard grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him from the house to the shock of everyone.
Wolverton’s own doctor had been summoned, but because Dr. Greaves had been in Cornwall visiting his family, the hopes were that he would be arriving today. The duchess came and went from Evie’s chamber, taking turns in sponging and singing softly to her. Adel’s voice was terribly unmusical, but he believed it provided some relief to Evie.
Almost six hours had passed since he arrived at Rosette Park and not once had he left Evie’s chamber. Her father sat with her for a while, reading to her, even Elliot reasoned with her for a while, and Richard simply remained a shadow at her bedside. Her mother was prostrated with worry and had taken to her own bed. Even there she had to be occasionally revived with smelling salts. The countess was too frail to visit Evie.
For the first time since he arrived, he was alone with her.
He held her hand in his, her hot flesh scalding against his hand. “I am not the man I thought I was. I never thought I was a coward. I knew I adored you and because of fear…a fear that seems so damnably stupid now, I hurt you.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and fought the urge to kneel in despair. “Fight this, Evie. Please fight. Your family cannot lose you. I…I…cannot lose you.” The idea she would succumb as his brother did sent chills deep into his heart.
A terrible silence lingered, and he had no sense of how much time had passed before the barest whisper of sound rode the air. He tensed and listened keenly.
“Richard?”
Relief slammed into him, and he ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Don’t move,” he murmured as she stirred.
“I hurt…my heart hurts.” A faint whisper escaped her lips, and a tear leaked from beneath her closed lids.
“Evie, forgive me.”
She fidgeted and seemed agitated. Sweat was pouring from her in torrents. Instinctively he got into the bed next to her, hoping to calm her. He cradled her in his arms, and she quieted. He held her for the longest time, simply recalling the sense of peace and contentment he’d always enjoyed in her presence, and the quick, joyous smile she’d always given him whenever she saw him. Evie would be well, even if he had to bargain with the devil himself. He stared at the canopy overhead, not daring to shift, even when his shoulder started to cramp in discomfort. Instead, he held himself still, careful not to disturb her fitful slumber, and sank his thoughts deep into his well of memories of her, where only laughter, sweetness, kindness, and passion resided.
A soft murmur stirred him. He opened his eyes to look at the top of her head. She was still nestled in his arms. Her skin was cool and clammy. Her fever had broken.
She shifted her head, and he could now see her perfect face. A smile twisted his lips as he thought how beautiful and peaceful she looked. The worst has passed. Her lids flickered open, and when she saw him, her breath hitched, and tears ran down her cheeks. She pierced his soul with the pain in her eyes. He had been the one to put those torturing shadows there.
You’ve broken me…
And at that moment, he understood how he had betrayed the gentle trust and love she had always had in him. It wasn’t just her love he had damaged; he’d broken her trust, her pride, her naivety. It gutted him to think of her heart growing cold and distant, detached from the very notion of love as how he had been fashioned after Aurelia. “Forgive me,” he rasped. “I…Evie…”
She tried pushing him away from her, but she hadn’t the strength. “Go away,” she croaked weakly, her lids once again fluttering closed, and her chest rising, this time with even breaths.
Gritting his teeth against the agony lancing through him, he nodded firmly, slid from the bed, and went downstairs. Evie was spared, she was given a second chance so he could give her all the love he had withheld these past six years. He was in love with her, his best friend, and despite all the complications of his life, he would make it work because he knew she loved him in return. He only hoped the damage of his actions could be undone.
He arrived at the parlor where her family and the duke and duchess had gathered.
Adel glanced up with a smile. “Dr. Greaves is on his way. Edmond has sent a carriage for him at the coaching inn. He will be here in less than an hour.”
Richard nodded. “Her fever has broken.”
There was a flurry of movement as everyone lurched to their feet. “Are you certain?” her father demanded gruffly.
“I am.” Then without waiting, he turned and left.
He couldn’t imagine her forgiving him, but he had to try. He would be a damned fool to know he loved her so much, and not do everything in his power to reclaim her love and melt the wall of ice she was already erecting around her heart.