With that in Hugo’s mind, he hurried up the stairs, pausing only to glance about and ensure no one was watching, before he ran off in the opposite direction to his own bedchamber.
“I do not need to be put to bed,” Evelyn laughed as she waved away the overzealous concern of Octavia and Selina, who had helped her all the way to her chamber door. And now seemed to want to help her inside and tuck her in, as if she were an incapable child.
“What if you trip?” Octavia argued.
Selina nodded. “What if you catch your foot in your skirts?”
“I shall not,” Evelyn assured, somewhat eager for the privacy and seclusion of her guest room.
She had enjoyed herself immensely tonight, grateful to see that the frost between Octavia and Selina was thawing somewhat. They had all spent most of the evening together after dinner, playing music, listening to one another, attempting a few card games, generally reveling in one another’s company. But Evelyn was tired now, the day catching up to her.
“Go on, off to bed with you both,” Evelyn said, smiling. “I shall not rest if I fear you are lurking outside, waiting to hear me stumble.”
Octavia pursed her lips, evidently unconvinced. “Are you certain you do not need help?”
“I promise that I am,” Evelyn replied, as she turned the door handle and made to step inside. “I will see you both tomorrow.”
Selina sighed. “Very well, but if anything happens, make sure you shout loudly enough that we can hear you.”
“I will. I shall scream at the top of my lungs,” Evelyn promised, breathing a small sigh of relief as the two women began to move away from her door, allowing her to close it without feeling terribly rude.
She limped through the quiet bedchamber and, balancing against the armrest of the fireside armchair, she undressed, shedding the weight of the day. There was no lady’s maid to help her, for she had never had one, and did not understand the need for one. If she wore grander things and attended more elite society events, then perhaps she would have had to acquire one, but as it was, she only ever required help when it came to her hair. Margery was the one who usually tended to that.
Changing into her nightdress, Evelyn hopped to the window and looked out at the night world. Everything was so still and peaceful here, but it could not quieten her inner turmoil.
I miss London.She sighed, wishing for the noise and the bustle, for she did not know how much longer she would be able to enjoy those familiar sounds and sights. Not if the baron had notions of keeping her at his country seat, far from everything and everyone.
Pushing away from the windowsill, she was about to retire to her bed when something caught her eye. Something that had certainly not been there when she was resting after her trip to Oxford and had definitely not been there while she was getting ready for dinner either.
A long box sat on her bedside table, on top of the book she had been reading: a novel, borrowed from Joan’s extensive library.
Puzzled, Evelyn approached, coming at the box as if it might bite.
“What on earth?” she mumbled, hesitantly picking it up.
Did Octavia do this? Selina, perhaps?
Tucked underneath the box was a folded piece of paper that sprang open as she lifted the box up. With her free hand, she pressed the paper flat… and her eyes widened as she read the brief note, written in a hand she did not recognize:
For you.
H S.V.
She nearly flicked the note off the table in her shock, for though he had not signed with his full name, there was only one person she knew of with those initials:Hugo St. Vincent.
He had been in her room. He had put this here. At the very least, he had instructed someone to. While she had been in the music room, maybe? She did not know, but shedidknow that it had not been there earlier. Ithadto have been while she was enjoying the evening’s entertainments.
Curiosity coaxed her to open up the hinged box, and though it quite clearly resembled a box containing jewelry, she still was not prepared for what was inside.
A beautiful necklace winked up at her, adorned with tiny jewels that reminded her of dripping water, or of teardrops. They were two shades of blue, one lighter, one darker; the same color asHugo’s eyes, the same slight shift of difference when one dared to look close enough.
He bought this for me… Why would he do that?
She gripped the box tightly, half wanting to throw it against the wall. What game was he trying to play with her? Did he want to make it impossible for her to forget him? Did he want to occupy her every waking thought so that it would be all the more torturous to wed the baron? Did he want her to wear a piece of him so that she would always remember what could never have been? A cruel taunt.
“Why can he not just… just… leave me alone?” she hissed, her heart sore.
It did not help matters that it was one of the most perfect necklaces she had ever seen. She did not favor the ostentatious and gaudy jewels that other ladies of thetonwore to flaunt their wealth. The necklace was quiet in its beauty, so well made that it did not need to shout its loveliness. Rather, it was subtle, so that someone would have to be close to admire its perfection.
