“How did you convince your wife to marry you?”
Wilton chuckled. “There was some groveling involved,” he confessed with a grin. “But more than that—I loved her so deeply that I set aside my pride and spoke to her from the heart. That, I think, is what won her over.”
Before Evander could ask more, the door opened, and both men turned.
Olivia entered the room with graceful ease. She wore a pale blue gown with a delicate white net overlay that complemented her fair complexion to perfection. Her blonde hair was swept up in an elegant style and two soft curls framed her face.
“Evander,” Olivia greeted him. “What a pleasant surprise.”
He stepped forward until he stood directly before her, the words he had rehearsed on the walk over suddenly fleeing his mind. “I was hoping to speak with you,” he managed.
Olivia tilted her head slightly, her gaze sparkling with curiosity. “It sounds rather serious.”
“It is,” he admitted, clearing his throat in an attempt to steady his nerves.
“Then perhaps I ought to fetch my serious hat,” she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.
A chuckle escaped him despite his tension. “You are a minx.”
Placing a light hand upon his sleeve, she said, “I was merely trying to make you laugh. I know the burdens upon your shoulders of late have not been easy to bear.”
“No, they haven’t,” he confessed, his voice roughened by fatigue and grief.
She held his gaze steadily. “But you will get through this. You are the strongest man I know.”
Wilton interjected with mock indignation. “What about me, Sister?”
Olivia dropped her hand from Evander’s sleeve and turned towards her brother. “I stand by my statement.”
Wilton placed a dramatic hand over his heart. “That wounds me.”
Before more could be said, Lady Wilton appeared at the threshold and announced, “Sterling informs me that dinner is ready. Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”
“That is an excellent idea,” Wilton replied, offering his arm to his wife. “Westmere will be joining us for dinner.”
Lady Wilton’s smile warmed further as she met Evander’s gaze. “My lord,” she murmured politely.
“Please,” Evander replied with a small bow, “you must call me Evander. All my friends do.”
“Then you must call me Dosia,” she responded.
Evander returned her smile. “It would be my pleasure.”
As they began to make their way towards the dining room, Evander fell into step beside Olivia. His heart thudded in his chest as he leaned slightly towards her and said in a quiet voice, “We shall speak after dinner.”
Olivia glanced up at him, her smile light and teasing. “Then I have something to look forward to.”
As they entered the dining room, Evander could scarcely take his eyes off her. He had always been fascinated by Olivia, completely and breathtakingly fascinated by her. She was his future. He was certain of it now, more than ever.
But would she feel the same?
5
Olivia sat at the long, rectangular dining table, the low murmur of conversation swirling around her like distant music. Yet her thoughts remained fixed on her mother’s voice, those sharp, sensible words still ringing in her mind:You mustn’t spend so much time with Evander. It will only encourage gossip.
A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. She had loved Evander as a friend for as long as she could remember. He had been her companion in childhood, her confidant in youth, and her solace through recent trials. But now… the world demanded more caution. For his sake—for his future—she would have to do the unthinkable and step away from their friendship.
The decision pressed on her heart like a stone.Tonight will be the last,she resolved.I shall cherish this evening, one final memory before I sever the tie.
