Evander halted mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder. “Have you told her about Bryon yet?”
At this, his father’s composure faltered. A flicker of pain crossed his features, quickly masked by a grimace. “Not yet,” he admitted. “I fear the news may be too great a blow. I am… truly concerned it could kill her.”
Evander’s heart twisted at the thought. His parents had entered into a marriage of convenience. Still, they had always shown one another a quiet respect, a kind of steadfast tolerance that had deepened into something akin to fondness over the years. He had long suspected his father’s infidelities, whispered of in Society’s drawing rooms, but had never broached the subject. His mother had borne it with grace, and for that, he respected her all the more.
“You must tell her,” Evander said, voice firm.
The earl rose slowly from his chair. “I was hoping… that you might do it.”
Evander turned fully now and asked, “Why me?”
“It might soften the blow, coming from you,” his father replied, gaze averted.
Coward,he thought. His father, so commanding when ordering marriages and managing estates, sought now to hide behind his son rather than deal with a grieving wife.
But this was his mother. And despite the distance he often kept from this townhouse, despite all the grievances he harbored towards his father, he loved her deeply.
Drawing a long, resigned breath, Evander bowed his head slightly. “I will do it.”
His father’s shoulders sagged, the tension visibly draining from him. “Thank you, Son,” he said, voice carrying a rare note of genuine relief.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I need to settle into my bedchamber.”
As he turned towards the door, his father called after him. “Would you like Bryon’s bedchamber? It is much larger than yours and it offers a fine view of the gardens.”
Evander paused mid-step. His heart constricted at the suggestion.
No.
He might have inherited his brother’s title and his responsibilities, but he would not take his brother’s place in life so easily.
Turning his head just enough to glance back, Evander said, “No. My own room will suffice.”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode from the study. The hollowness in his chest deepened with every step. The future awaited him, shaped by duty and loss, but at least, in this small matter, he would hold fast to what little choice remained to him.
Olivia sat alone at a corner table in the circulating library, her fingers lightly tracing the gilt-edged pages of one of her favorite French romance novels. The soft murmur of whispered conversation and the occasional rustle of turning pages surrounded her like a gentle cocoon.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the dust motes that danced lazily in the air.
She had left the townhouse directly after breakfast, unable to endure the suffocating concern written so plainly on Dosia’s face. Her sister-in-law meant well—truly, she did—but Olivia could not bear such attentiveness, not today. She needed space to think, to sort through the jumble of her heart.I am perfectly fine,she reminded herself, though her throat tightened at the thought of it. Lord Harwood belonged to her past now. He had made his choice, casting her aside without so much as a backward glance. She would not waste her tears on a man so unworthy of them.
Still, her eyes blurred as she tried to focus on the words before her. She was just about to surrender the effort when the chair opposite her scraped softly against the wooden floor.
Startled, Olivia looked up to see Lady Jane settling gracefully into the seat with an impish smile.
“Good morning,” Jane greeted as she adjusted the straw hat that sat slightly askew on her head, covering her blonde curls.
“Good morning,” she replied slowly. “I admit I did not expect company.”
“I thought I might find you here,” Jane said brightly. “At least, I hoped I would.”
A faint smile tugged at Olivia’s lips. “Does your father or brother know you are here?” she asked with a raised brow.
Jane’s smile dimmed a fraction. “They know I am visiting the circulating library. They are not aware, however, that I intended to converse with you.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “I recently discovered that my maid has been tattling on me to them. I left her sulking in the coach.”
Olivia couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Splendid move.” She closed her book with a deliberate snap. “How are you faring?”
“I am well,” Jane answered, a little too quickly.
