“That is because I am charming, handsome, and keeper of your secrets,” he quipped. “Think of the disservice you will do toSociety if we do not marry. Our children would be beautiful and brilliant.”
“You make a fair point.”
His expression sobered. “I do not wish to force you. Think on it. I will return tomorrow.”
“What if you change your mind?”
“I will not. That I promise.”
She bit her lower lip—a telltale sign of her inner struggle, one he had come to know well. He watched her with aching tenderness.
“You need not answer now,” he added gently. “But do not dismiss the possibility outright.”
She gave a small nod, tears glistening once more. “You are impossible,” she whispered.
“And yet, here I stand,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.
Turning her gaze towards the townhouse, Olivia asked, “Does Richard know that you were going to offer for me?”
“Yes,” Evander replied. “And he was rather excited by the prospect.”
Her lips pressed into a thin, resigned line. “I am sure he is more than anxious to be rid of me.”
“You are wrong,” Evander said. “Your brother loves you.”
“Yes, but I have caused him no small amount of grief these past months.”
He placed a reassuring hand upon her sleeve. “It is cold out here, and you do not even have a shawl. Come—we should go back inside.”
As they headed towards the townhouse, Olivia remarked, “Your father would be furious if we did wed.”
“All the more reason to say yes, then.”
“He has never liked me.”
Evander merely smiled. “That may have had something to do with the fact that you never listened to him,” he replied. “And that you constantly ran off into the woodlands.”
Looking entirely unrepentant, Olivia tilted her chin. “How else was I supposed to look for truffles?”
“We hired people to do that, you know,” he reminded her.
“Yes,” she said, “but if I wanted to keep them for myself, I had to find them and eat them before anyone discovered my stash.”
Evander gave her a long, knowing look. “You used to hide them under your pillow and eat them at night.”
“It was a delicious treat.”
They stepped inside and made their way to the drawing room, where Wilton and his wife were already waiting.
As they entered, Wilton held out his hands. “Are congratulations in order?”
“Not yet,” Evander responded. “But Olivia is considering it.”
Wilton’s brows shot up. “What is there to consider?” he asked, his voice rising in earnest. “This is the solution to all of our problems.”
Olivia turned to face him fully, her back growing rigid. “It ismychoice, Brother.”
“It is,” Wilton allowed, though his mouth pressed into a grim line. “However, I feel?—”
