He brushed his thumb against her cheek, then turned and followed Lord Warwicke to the door.
The door clicked shut behind Evander and Lord Warwicke, leaving Olivia alone at last. She crossed the room in a daze and sank onto the settee, the upholstery sighing beneath her. Her hands trembled in her lap. She clasped them tightly to still them.
She was safe. She had escaped. But the truth of it—the full weight—was only just beginning to settle on her shoulders.
A shiver worked its way down her spine as she thought of the locked room, the window that had resisted her touch, and the boots thudding outside the door. If she hadn’t climbed out in time…
She curled her fingers into the fabric of her ruined gown.Don’t think about that. You’re home.
A knock at the door stirred her, and the butler stepped inside with a bow. “Your bath has been prepared, my lady.”
“Thank you,” she said, rising on unsteady feet.
She climbed the stairs more quickly than she’d expected her legs to carry her and stepped into her bedchamber.
Her lady’s maid was already there, setting out fresh linen. At the sight of Olivia, she gasped. “My lady! Are you hurt?”
“No, I am all right,” Olivia replied. She gave the maid a reassuring nod, though she doubted it looked particularly convincing.
Annie approached cautiously. “Shall we get you out of that gown?”
“Yes, please,” Olivia murmured, turning around and lifting her heavy hair out of the way.
She stared blankly at the wall as the buttons were slowly undone, the whisper of fabric loud in the quiet room. Her gaze shifted to the hearth where the water basin waited, steam curling lazily upward. The scent of lavender drifted through the air, soft and familiar.
And still, her heart wouldn’t stop racing.
She should have felt relief. Joy, even. She was home, whole, alive. But an uneasiness clung to her, as stubborn as the dirt beneath her nails.
The gown slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it and moved towards the warmth waiting near the fire.
She placed her hand on the rim of the basin and inhaled deeply, the steam enveloping her like a protective cloak. But the words echoed in her head.
You escaped.
But from what—and for how long?
She closed her eyes.
Let me have this moment,she thought.Let me believe—for a little while—that I’m safe.
But deep down, Olivia knew the real danger had only just begun.
Evander’s hands were balled into fists, so tight that his knuckles ached with the strain. He sat rigid at the coach window, his gaze fixed on the blurred, soot-stained buildings of London streaming past. His thoughts—sharp and burning—refused to be stilled. If Lord Luca had anything to do with Olivia’s abduction, if he had dared to touch her, frighten her,useher—then no rank nor title would save him. Not even a duke for a father would shield him from the consequences.
The very idea sent a fresh wave of fury through him.
Warwicke’s voice was a thin intrusion into the storm. “You need to calm down.”
Evander turned his head sharply. “How can you ask that of me? Olivia was abducted and you want me to be calm?”
“We don’t know Lord Luca was behind it,” Warwicke said calmly. “Not for certain.”
“Thenwho?” Evander demanded. “Who else had motive? Who else threatened my family, had an interest in the plantation, and now dares suggest I sell?”
Warwicke raised a hand, placating. “Let me do the talking when we get there. We’ll get to the truth—but not if you storm in like a man possessed.”
Evander didn’t answer. He knew Warwicke was right. He just didn’t care. The threats against him were one thing. But Olivia?That had crossed a line. A man only had so much restraint and his had already been stretched past breaking.
