“That they do,” Olivia confirmed.
“And what of your father?” she asked, addressing him.
Evander shrugged. “He was predictably appalled.”
Her expression didn’t falter. “He’ll come around.”
“I’m not holding my breath,” he muttered.
“Well, then let me be happy for the both of us,” his mother declared. She turned to Olivia and reached for her hand. “I always thought you two would suit each other.”
Olivia’s lips curved into a playful smirk as she glanced at Evander. “He is tolerable, I suppose.”
His mother laughed—a genuine, delighted sound that filled the room with unexpected lightness. Evander had almost forgotten what that laugh sounded like. “Now I can die in peace,” she said with a contented sigh. “Knowing that you’ll take care of one another.”
“You are not going to die anytime soon,” Evander said quickly, his tone firm.
A soft knock came at the door before it creaked open once more. A man stepped in carrying a worn leather doctor’s bag.
Doctor Wentworth gave a courteous bow. “How is my most troublesome patient today?”
His mother pushed herself up higher on the pillows. “Still alive. Much to everyone’s surprise.”
The doctor looked amused. “That’s more than satisfactory.”
Evander reached out and placed a hand gently on his mother’s frail shoulder. “We’ll let you get on with your examination. We’ll come back a little later.”
His mother gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, my darling.”
As he led Olivia out of his mother’s bedchamber, he was pleased by his mother’s reaction to his marriage, confirming what he had already known. He had done the right thing by marrying Olivia.
9
Olivia stood before the looking glass in her bedchamber, her gaze fixed on her own reflection as though trying to reconcile the woman she saw with the one she had always known. The gown she wore—a delicate shade of blue that complemented her fair complexion—fit her perfectly, but it was not the gown that made her appear different. It was the simple gold band now on her finger. It was the knowledge that she would be descending the stairs as a viscountess.
She didn’t feel any different. And yet… everything had changed.
The memory of the kiss she had shared with Evander earlier drifted into her thoughts—unexpected, tender, and more stirring than she cared to admit. It had awakened something deep within her, something new and uncertain. But this was not the time to dwell on it, not when the responsibilities of her new role loomed large and unfamiliar.
“Will there be anything else, my lady?” Annie’s voice broke gently into her reverie.
Olivia gave a small shake of her head and smoothed down the folds of her gown. “No, Annie. That will be all. Thank you.”
Before Annie could retreat, a knock sounded at the door. She turned to answer it, revealing Evander standing just beyond the threshold.
He did not step inside, but his gaze traveled over Olivia with unhurried appreciation. “You look beautiful,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.
Olivia couldn’t help but return it. “And you look rather handsome yourself.”
He struck a playful pose. “I’m delighted you noticed. I fear that my presence can be rather distracting. I feel it is only fair to issue a warning.”
Olivia approached him, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Your cockiness truly knows no bounds.”
“Careful, Wife,” he teased, “one more smile from me, and you shall be entirely undone.”
She stopped just before him, lifting her brows in feigned concern. “One more smile, and I shall require smelling salts—not from swooning, but from the exertion of keeping from laughing.”
Clutching his chest in mock agony, he replied, “You wound me.”
