Just then, the door to the study eased open, and Lady Warwicke stepped in, her red hair neatly arranged into a low chignon at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in a soft morning gown of pale lavender, the color complementing her fair complexion. She stopped short just inside the threshold, her expression momentarily apologetic.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, her hand lightly touching the doorframe. “I didn’t realize you were occupied.”
Warwicke rose and waved her forward. “You needn’t apologize, my dear. Please, come in.” He turned slightly, gesturing towards Evander. “You remember Lord Westmere?”
A smile bloomed across her face, brightening her entire countenance. “Indeed, I do.” She crossed the room with graceful steps. “How are you faring, my lord?”
Evander stood at once and offered a respectful bow. “Very well, my lady. And you?”
“Well enough, thank you,” she replied warmly. “I did not mean to interrupt. I merely came to see if my husband would join me for breakfast.”
Warwicke stepped around the desk and took her hand in his. “I would be delighted to.” He glanced towards Evander. “Perhaps you would care to join us as well?”
Evander shook his head. “You are kind to extend the invitation, but I must return home. Olivia will likely be awake soon, and I would rather spare her the ordeal of facing my father over breakfast without any reinforcements.”
Lady Warwicke’s smile turned conspiratorial. “Then we must have you both to dinner soon, at a more civilized hour.”
“We would be honored,” Evander said, inclining his head.
Warwicke offered his arm to his wife, which she took with a light touch. “And how are you this morning?” he asked softly, his gaze lingering on hers.
“Perfectly well, thank you,” she said, her tone affectionate.
As the couple turned to depart the study, Evander followed at a respectful distance. They walked together through the corridor until they reached the front entry hall.
There, Warwicke came to a halt and turned to face Evander once more, his manner shifting subtly back into the serious mode of earlier. “I’ll look into what we discussed. You have my word.”
Evander met his gaze. “Thank you, Warwicke. Truly.”
Lady Warwicke glanced between the two men, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly with curiosity. “Dare I ask what exactly it is you’re investigating?”
“A simple enough matter,” Warwicke assured her.
Before he could say more, Evander interjected, “I’ve received two threats—one in person, the other quite literally through a window. Your husband has very generously agreed to help me uncover the source.”
Lady Warwicke’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “Threats? That sounds far from simple. Will it be dangerous?”
Warwicke gave a one-shouldered shrug, the movement deliberately nonchalant. “Possibly. But you need not concern yourself.”
She tightened her hold on his arm and looked up at him with tender insistence. “I will always concern myself where you are involved.”
“And that,” Warwicke murmured, “is why I will forever love you.”
Realizing it was his moment to depart, Evander quietly cleared his throat. “I’ll take my leave,” he said before he stepped out into the pale morning light.
The air was crisp and fresh, carrying with it the scent of dew-covered hedges and distant chimney smoke. As the door closed gently behind him, Evander drew his coat tighter around his frame and descended the stone steps with slow, measured strides.
He was genuinely pleased for Warwicke. The man had returned from the war scarred in ways both seen and unseen. And yet, in Lady Warwicke, he had found peace, acceptance, and the kind of love that could knit even the most fractured soul back together.
Was such a thing truly possible for everyone? Or only a fortunate few?
Evander wasn’t certain.
He had married Olivia for many reasons—duty, friendship, affection—but love had grown in his heart long before she had agreed to take his hand. He loved her with a depth that surprised even him. However… she did not love him in return. Not in the way he wished.
A heaviness settled in his chest as he made his way towards his waiting carriage.
What if she never did?
