The tension within Evelyne eased, and her eyes remained upon Alaric longer than propriety allowed. Something tender flickered across his face, and the look was enough to startle her from her thoughts. She cleared her throat.
“Will you remain here tonight? With me?” she asked.
His browslifted slightly. “If that’s what you wish.”
“It is.”
Alaric stood and began unbuttoning his frock coat. As he kicked off his boots and peeled off the heavier layers, Evelyne turned her gaze aside, a blush creeping up her neck.
“Relax, Ev. I’m not stripping down to my undershorts.”
“Oh, hush,” she said, her face growing even warmer. “I was just trying to be polite.”
“No need for that with me,” he said with a roguish grin. “I’m not shy about what I’ve got.”
“My goodness, Alaric, just… go to sleep,” she huffed, turning away and tucking her knees to her chest.
His restless movements caught her attention a few moments later when his feet repeatedly brushed against hers as he struggled to find a comfortable position. Feeling exasperated and unusually bold, Evelyne stood and crossed the distance between them. Without a word, she crawled into his arms, her movements slow. Alaric stilled at first, surprised, but quickly adjusted, lifting his arm to make room for her to settle against him. The heat radiating from his body enveloped her, and his steady heartbeat soothed her frayed nerves.
His fingers began to graze lightly along her arm, a rhythmic touch that grounded her.You’re safe, his actions seemed to say, though he remained silent until she began to drift.
Before she slipped into a peaceful sleep, he whispered, “He will pay for this.”
Evelyne placed her hand atop his in quiet acknowledgment, a thank you thatneeded no words.
***
When she woke the following day, Alaric was gone. The faint impression of where he’d slept remained on the couch, and she wondered if he’d left to avoid her reaction. But as she traced the spot where he had been, a small smile crossed her lips.
Evelyne needed to feel clean again. The memory of Ivan’s hands on her, his unwanted touch on her arms, legs, and neck, clung to her like a film she couldn’t wash away. A wave of nausea hit the moment she reached the bathing chamber. She barely made it to the basin before vomiting, then slumped onto the cool floor, drained. Curled up there, she waited for the queasiness to subside, her mind replaying fragments of the night she desperately wanted to forget.
She still couldn’t fathom how Alaric had found her. Had it been luck? Instinct? A protective intuition that had led him to the market at the right moment? She hadn’t asked; the words seemed impossible to form. Yet, beneath the trauma, she was profoundly grateful for his intervention.
Moments later, Seraphine hurried into the chamber—no doubt having heard Evelyne retching. She didn’t press her with questions, didn’t pry, just began drawing the bath in a comforting silence. Though Evelyne hadn’t spoken a word of it, the entire household must have known Alaric had stayed the night in the library with her. Servants always found their ways to notice—and to whisper—but thankfully, none had intruded. After last night, Evelyne couldn’t bring herself to care about household gossip or her parents’ disapproval. Nothing mattered now but banishing the horror that still clung to her.
Once the bath was prepared, Seraphine left without a word, closing the door softly behind her. Evelyne slipped into the steaming water, sinking lower and lower until the heat surrounded her. She let her head dip beneath the surface, her face fullysubmerged, shutting out the world and its noise. Silence wrapped around her like a cocoon, offering a momentary escape from the storm in her mind.
She surfaced for air, inhaling deeply before slipping under again. Each time, she held her breath as long as she could, the ache in her chest becoming a temporary distraction from the pain elsewhere. When she finally sat up for good, her breathing was ragged.
She scrubbed her body again and again, her motions mechanical, the soap working into her skin until her hands burned red. Arms, shoulders, legs—each part received the same treatment, as if sheer determination could rid her of Lord Bavrick’s touch. Her skin stung, raw and tender, but she didn’t stop. Not until exhaustion overtook her, and the water around her was cold. Only then did she lean back against the tub’s edge, her head tilted toward the ceiling, a tear sliding down her cheek.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet of the bathing room. Evelyne lifted her head from where it rested, her damp hair clinging to her cheeks and shoulders.
“It’s me,” Aurelia’s gentle voice called from the other side.
“Come in,” Evelyne said hoarsely. She didn’t care about her state of undress; modesty felt inconsequential after last night.
Aurelia entered, her presence bright as ever. She wore a delicate spring dress of soft green, her golden hair swept into an elegant half-up style, her features adorned with just enough cosmetics to enhance her natural beauty. Evelyne stared momentarily, struck by how her sister always seemed to shine with such radiance.
“Mother asked me to go back to the market today,” Aurelia began, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. “She wants to pick up more decorations for the ball. I thought I’d look at those earrings you liked. Oh, and I never did get a dress last night,so I figured—”
“Aurelia,” Evelyne interrupted. She couldn’t bear to sit through idle chatter, not now.
Aurelia stopped mid-sentence, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“Lord Bavrick found me at the market last night,” Evelyne began, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady. “He pulled me into a hidden alley, and—”
Her fingers clenched the edge of the tub, knuckles blanching as the memory clawed its way back. “Pinned me against the bricks so I couldn’t escape.”
