“Why is he so resistant?” she asked, clearly baffled.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because he sees only the profit. The promise of legacy. The power. He refuses to see the risk. Or he does—and believes himself invincible.”
“Well,” Olivia said pointedly, “in my humble opinion, it’s maddening. He’s clinging to something that might destroy him. Or you.”
Evander smirked. “You know, you and my father might have more in common than you think.”
She reared back slightly, playfully. “Did you just compare me to your father? Mynemesis?”
“My father is your nemesis?”
“Everyone needs a nemesis or two,” she joked. “It keeps things interesting.”
They reached the entry hall. Evander slowed his pace, then stopped altogether, letting the quiet weight of the moment settle between them. “I need to speak with Warwicke. He must be told. My father’s life was threatened, and whoever is behind this has gone too far.”
Olivia looked uneasy. “Are you sure Warwicke is the right person to handle this?”
“I do,” Evander said, his voice firm. “He has a particular set of skills, and I trust him.”
Still, she bit her lower lip, hesitating. “Do you really think it’s safe to leave the townhouse?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I just—” Her voice faltered slightly. “I just worry.”
He stepped closer, his voice low. “I will always come back to you.”
She lifted her chin and searched his face. “You promise?”
He leaned in, brushing a tender kiss against her cheek, his lips lingering longer than they should. “That is the easiest promise I’ve ever made.”
Olivia’s eyes shimmered. “I can’t lose you, Evander.”
“You won’t,” he said, with quiet certainty. “You’re stuck with me. Now and forever.”
Her lips curved into a faint smile. “There are worse fates,” she murmured, the words light, almost teasing—but Evander saw beyond them. Beneath the levity, there was something sincere in her gaze. Warmth. Affection. A glimmer of something more.
His chest tightened with the possibility. Was she beginning to care for him, truly? The thought sent a quiet thrill through him, softening the heavy weight of the morning.
Before he could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the front hall. Moments later, Gillingham appeared, emerging from a side passage with his usual silent efficiency. He moved to the door and opened it to reveal Doctor Wentworth, who entered with brisk steps and an earnest expression.
“Where is his lordship?” the doctor asked without preamble.
Gillingham gestured down the corridor. “This way, Doctor. He’s in the study.”
The two men disappeared down the hallway, leaving Evander and Olivia alone once more.
With a sigh and a glance towards the upper landing, Olivia said, “I think I should go sit with your mother. I don’t want her to be alone, especially not now.”
Evander reached for her hand briefly, letting his fingers close around hers in gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, and hoped his voice carried the depth of appreciation he struggled to express aloud.
Olivia leaned closer, placing a gentle hand over his chest. Her touch was steady and precisely what he needed in the moment. “Go. Do what you must. I’ll be here when you return.”
He smiled, warmth stirring in spite of the circumstances. “I’m rather glad I married you.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Obviously.”
“I’ll come back as soon as I’m able,” he promised.
