Turning towards his friend, he replied, “No, I should return home. Olivia will be waiting, and my mother… well, I don’t like to be gone too long.”
“How is your mother?”
Evander rubbed a hand down his face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him. “She has her good days and her bad. The doctor says she doesn’t have long, but he’s been saying that for months now.”
Alcott’s expression shifted, his usual mask of levity giving way to something more sincere. “I know what it’s like to lose a mother. It’s not for the faint of heart.”
Evander swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. “She’s always been the center of everything. The glue that held the family together. Even when my father grew distant. Even when Bryon—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what we’ll do when she’s gone. I’m not sure we’ll hold it together.”
“Fortunately, you have Olivia to help you through all of this.”
A genuine smile tugged at the corner of Evander’s mouth. “That I do. She’s been… a miracle, really. I don’t know how she manages it—supporting me, my mother, dealing with all this pressure—but she does. Quietly. Steadily.”
“You know I’m no advocate for marriage,” Alcott said, though the warmth remained in his voice, “but in your case… I daresay it’s proven beneficial.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you say that. Your reputation as a determined bachelor would be forever tarnished,” Evander teased.
Alcott grinned. “Exactly. So let’s keep it between us. I’ve built a carefully composed image of romantic cynicism. I’d hate to see it shattered.”
“Still, you’ll have to marry eventually. You need an heir. Your estate won’t manage itself when you’re gone.”
Alcott gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, yes. One day, I’ll find some well-bred lady to tolerate me. It’ll be for practical purposes only, I assure you. No foolishness about love.”
Evander gave him a dry look. “What a lucky lady she will be.”
Alcott appeared unbothered. “Do try to rest, Evander. You look like a man being pulled apart by too many hands.”
You have no idea,Evander thought, but said nothing.
With a final glance at the room—a room filled with laughter and men who had no idea what kind of world was unraveling outside its walls—he turned and made his way towards the door, already dreading the quiet heaviness that waited for him at home.
The room was still, dimly lit by the weak afternoon light slanting through the tall windows. Olivia sat by the bedside, her book resting open but unread in her lap. Her eyes drifted away from the page, again and again, to the figure beneath the embroidered coverlet. Lady Everwyck was asleep—truly asleep, not just resting her eyes as she sometimes pretended to. The soft snoring that rose from her was gentle. Olivia found herselflistening for it, counting on it, as if its rhythm might ward off the silence she dreaded.
The countess’s face was drawn, her skin nearly translucent against the white pillows, but her features were still sharp. She had never been a woman to shrink away from battle, and even now—frail, half in shadow—there was a stubbornness in her jaw that declared she would not go easily. If death had come knocking, Lady Everwyck would not open the door without a fight.
Suddenly, the stillness broke.
“Dear heavens,” the countess murmured, her voice scratchy with sleep. “Was I snoring?”
“No,” Olivia replied, too quickly, too smoothly.
Lady Everwyck narrowed her eyes in that familiar way, a wry smile playing on her lips. “I daresay you are being kind to spare my vanity.”
Caught, Olivia grinned. “Guilty. But I thought it rather soothing, actually.”
A huff of laughter escaped the countess. “My snoring has only worsened with age, I fear.”
Olivia gestured to the silver pitcher on the side table. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” she said, pushing herself upright.
Olivia stood at once. “Let me help you.”
But the countess waved her off. “Do not trouble yourself, my dear.”
Olivia returned to her seat, watching carefully as Lady Everwyck arranged a pillow behind her back. She looked impossibly small in the vast bed, the silken coverlet swallowing her whole. Still there was fire in her eyes.
“Do not look at me like that,” the countess said, her tone light but pointed.
