The words sent warmth flooding through her chest and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll support whatever decision you make.”
He arched a brow. “That doesn’t help,” he teased softly, though his eyes were still shadowed with concern.
Before she could say more, a knock came at the door and Gillingham entered once again. “Lord Harwood is requesting a moment of your time.”
“Inform him that we are not taking callers…” Evander started.
“Send him in,” Lord Everwyck ordered, speaking over his son. “I want to see what he wants.”
As Gillingham turned to leave, Olivia tightened her hold on Evander’s hand and whispered, just for him, “After this… we finish our conversation.”
Because she wouldn’t let the moment pass again.
She would tell him she loved him.
And this time, nothing would stop her.
Evander stood beside Olivia, her presence grounding him even as his mind churned with the weight of his decision. The indigo plantation had once been nothing more than a grim inheritance—now it had become a battleground. He didn’t want to sell. Selling would mean relinquishing a fortune. But how could he cling to principle when it might cost Olivia her life?
He glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes—so composed, so beautiful, and so very vulnerable in the wake of her abduction. No, he couldn’t risk her safety. Nothing mattered more than that.
Before he could speak, the door opened and in stepped Lord Harwood, the familiar frown fixed on his mouth. His eyes immediately found Olivia.
“I heard you were abducted,” Harwood said, the words too casual for Evander’s liking.
Olivia gasped. “How did you hear it so fast?”
Harwood offered a smooth, apologetic smile. “News travels quickly through theton. I am relieved to see you well.”
“Thank you,” Olivia murmured, her voice guarded.
Harwood’s attention shifted to Evander. “Do you intend to sell the indigo plantation now that the reformers have turned their attention to Olivia?”
Evander hesitated—but only for a moment. “I think that would be for the best,” he said, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
Harwood visibly relaxed. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll have my solicitor draw up the contract tomorrow.” A pause. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Just then, Warwicke’s voice rang out from the doorway. “Is he?”
Evander turned sharply, heart tightening at the sharp edge in his friend’s voice. Warwicke entered the room, his expression unreadable, yet charged with intent.
Harwood gave him a dry smile. “I think it’s only wise, given the circumstances.”
“And what circumstances are those, exactly?” Warwicke asked.
Evander frowned. “Is there a problem?”
Warwicke looked straight at him. “My contacts uncovered something curious. It seems Harwood is the sole owner of Walter Textiles.”
Turning towards Harwood, Evander asked, “Is that true?”
Harwood gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not illegal to own a business.”
“No,” Warwicke agreed, “but it becomes rather problematic when you’re coercing landowners into selling to you.”
Harwood’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never forced anyone’s hand.”
Evander stepped forward. “Why didn’t you disclose you owned Walter Textiles when you first expressed interest in the plantation?”
