His friend responded in kind, understanding passing between them without need for further words.
Evander stepped towards his waiting coach, and the door shut with a soft thud. The vehicle lurched forward, merging into the flow of traffic along the gaslit street.
He leaned back against the worn velvet of the bench. His eyes drifted closed for a moment as exhaustion pressed down upon him. A wild, fleeting impulse seized him. He could tell the driver to keep going—past Mayfair, past the boundaries of Town, into the countryside beyond. To drive and drive until the weight of duty and grief could no longer find him.
But he knew better. Running would not solve what awaited him. It would only worsen it.
No.
He drew in a slow, deliberate breath.I must face this. Face my father. Face my mother. Face this new life I did not choose.
And above all, he hoped he might do so without losing the man he had spent years becoming.
Olivia exited her bedchamber and descended the staircase. She had been rudely awakened that morning by a particularly insistent bird that had taken up residence on the windowsill just outside her chamber. After tossing about in bed with the pillow pressed over her head to no avail, she had at last surrendered to the morning and decided to join her family for breakfast, though it was hardly a choice she embraced with enthusiasm.
As she entered the dining room, a shaft of sunlight illuminated the long table set with gleaming silver and steaming dishes. Seated together at one end were her brother and Dosia as they read the newssheets.
“Good morning,” Olivia greeted.
Richard looked up with a boyish grin. “Olivia, I am astonished to see you awake at such an indecent hour,” he teased, folding his newssheets.
“I thought I might grace you both with my presence at this godforsaken time,” Olivia replied airily, moving to sit across from them.
Dosia glanced up with a warm smile. “It is nearly noon.”
“My point exactly,” Olivia quipped, settling into her chair and placing a starched linen napkin upon her lap with a sigh of exaggerated weariness. “You two wake far too early. I daresay you make a habit of it.”
“I happen to enjoy seizing the day,” Richard said cheerfully. Too cheerfully. “Dosia and I have already been for a ride this morning.”
“How very joyful for you,” Olivia murmured, reaching for a cup of thick, fragrant chocolate. She took a long sip, savoring the warmth.
“You are remarkably pleasant today,” Richard teased.
“I nearly committed murder this morning,” Olivia replied. “A small bird has taken it upon itself to perch outside my window and chirp incessantly. Day and night.”
Richard set the newssheets aside, eyes twinkling. “You could always shut your window.”
“And be denied fresh air? Absolutely not. I refuse to let the bird win,” she replied with a shake of her head. “However, I have given considerable thought to the possibility of serving bird for dinner.”
“You most certainly will not,” Richard said, a grin tugging at his mouth.
Olivia sighed dramatically. “You are right. If I were to dispatch one bird, I would surely provoke the wrath of its kin. A veritable avian uprising would follow, and I should never sleep again.”
Richard chuckled. “You have clearly spent too much time pondering this.”
“Oh, I have,” Olivia admitted with a nod. “As I lay in bed this morning, I devised no fewer than five methods of silencing the wretched creature.”
“Five?” Richard repeated.
“Indeed,” she said. “Though I must confess, none were entirely humane.” She took another sip of chocolate. “I do like birds in general. But there are limits to my patience.”
Richard glanced at Dosia, an exaggerated look of concern in his eyes. “Do you think Olivia is bottle-weary this morning?”
His wife laughed. “Not at all. She makes perfect sense to me.”
“Traitor,” Richard said lightly.
Reaching for his hand, Dosia smiled. “Never, my love. Besides, I have long suspected that birds are not as innocent as they appear. They know precisely what they are about.”
