“I’ve had worse,” the earl muttered, waving a dismissive hand.
Olivia stepped around the desk and inspected the back of his head. “You likely need stitches.”
“And you need to mind your own business,” he snapped.
Evander opened his mouth to defend Olivia, but she cut him off.
“I hardly think we need to worry about you dying,” she said dryly. “You’re far too cantankerous.”
The earl actually snorted. “For once, we are in agreement.”
Olivia crossed her arms. “You’re a fool. No business is worth your life.”
“You have the luxury of believing that,” the earl replied curtly.
“Perhaps,” Olivia said, lifting her chin, “but I am not going to let you endanger Evander’s life.”
His father narrowed his gaze. “Is that so?”
“It is,” she said, stepping forward. There was steel in her posture, fire in her voice—and Evander had never been more proud of her.
“And you speak for Evander now?” his father asked.
“No,” she said simply. “He speaks for himself. But it’s time someone spoke to you. I’ve held my tongue out of respect foryour wife’s condition, but no more. I have a voice, and I will use it.”
The earl turned to his son. “Are you going to let a woman fight your battles?”
Evander drew Olivia closer, his arm sliding around her waist. “I would like to think that we fight them together.”
Olivia smiled up at him. “I like that thought.”
Whatever retort his father had died on his lips. His face turned ashen, and he slumped back into his chair. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
Evander moved quickly to his side. “You need a doctor.”
The fight seemed to drain from the older man. His shoulders sagged. “Fine. I suppose I can make the time.”
“Can I get you something? Tea?” Olivia offered as the earl now sat slumped, pressing a handkerchief to his bloodied head.
His father scowled. “You do not need to fuss over me, Woman,” he growled, though the faint rasp in his voice betrayed his exhaustion.
Evander shot Olivia a rueful glance and gave a subtle shake of his head. “I think he’ll live,” he said. “Perhaps we should give him a moment to recover his... temperament.”
“Thank you,” the earl muttered without meeting either of their eyes.
Evander took Olivia’s hand and gently guided her towards the door. As soon as they crossed the threshold and the door shut behind them, his tone softened. “You were remarkable in there.”
Olivia’s lips tightened. “I’m tired of the way your father speaks to me, as though I ought to stay silent. I hope I didn’t upset you by speaking up.”
“Not in the least bit,” he said, pausing to turn towards her. “Quite the opposite. I’ve never been more proud of you.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I suspect your father didn’t share the sentiment.”
Evander chuckled. “Well, I find it rather comforting knowing you’re capable of standing your ground. It saves me a great deal of trouble.”
Olivia’s amusement faded. “What are you going to do about the plantation?”
His expression turned grave. “I need to persuade my father to sell it. No business venture is worth this level of danger. And I refuse to watch him bleed—or worse—because of his pride.”
