Evander was waiting on the veranda. He smiled as she approached—the smile that always made her feel seen, steady, understood.
“Well?” he asked softly. “How are you faring?”
She folded her arms. “I’m… anxious.”
“That’s perfectly reasonable,” he said, his tone gentle. “Everyone gets nervous before they’re shackled for life.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You hit me with a rock.”
He had the grace to look sheepish. “Yes, well. I needed to get your attention.”
“With terrible aim?”
“But effective,” he said with a rakish smile. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
He gestured towards a nearby bench. “Shall we sit? You can tell me all your doubts, and I shall heroically dispel them.”
She let out a soft laugh and moved to sit down. “Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?”
“Yes,” he replied as he sat next to her.
“You’re doing this for your mother,” she said. “What if you wake one day and resent the obligation?”
“I could never resent you,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re the one giving up everything. You’re the one being whispered about. If anyone should be grateful, it’s me.”
“I’m not sacrificing anything,” she remarked. “This marriage will restore my family’s reputation. For that, I’ll be forever grateful.”
He studied her. “I know how you feel about love…”
She reached for his sleeve, her fingers brushing the fabric. “That was the old me. I don’t feel the same.”
“What changed?”
She looked away. “I thought I loved Lord Harwood. He made me believe it. He even proposed… in secret. No one knew but you.”
Evander’s jaw tightened. “Harwood is a scoundrel.”
“And yet, you were friends.”
“Not willingly. He was more Bryon’s companion than mine. And I ceased speaking to him after what he did to you.”
She met his gaze, moved by the conviction in his voice. “You’ve always been a good friend.”
“I hope to be something more,” he murmured. “Perhaps we’ll fall madly in love, and have a boatload of children.”
“A boatload?” she echoed with a mock gasp. “That’s hardly reasonable.”
“Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But the trying will be… enjoyable.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Evander…”
“What? You’re blushing?”
“You’re being improper.”
“I’m being honest.” His voice softened. “But your virtue is safe. I won’t rush you. We’ll take things slowly—at your pace.”
