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“Marcella?” I gasped, staring down at the dirt-covered, terrified, and shaking young girl as she picked herself up off the ground. “Are you all right?”
Evander hopped off his horse to help her, but she held out her hands to stop him.
“I am fine!” she said, quickly dusting herself off, but she kept her eyes down. “Merely startled and lost my footing is all.”
“What are you doing—”
“Marcella!” the booming sound of his voice echoed through the trees with such force and rage that birds scattered.
Fitzwilliam.
Immediately, Evander’s fist clenched as Fitzwilliam walked over to Marcella, his eyes wide and crazed.
“Are you all right, my dear?” he asked, brushing the leaves off her hair gently. She seemed to tremble slightly.
“What are you doing on my land?” Evander snapped.
“You’re mistaken, Duke. You and your wife have just crossed over to my property. Ponsonby is mine now,” Fitzwilliam shot back, lifting his chin proudly.
It was hard to know without a map where Everely House ended and the estate of Ponsonby began, but that had never been an issue before. At least, not to my knowledge. The owners—well, former owners—of that estate had been a relatively old and unbothered couple.
“You have bought Ponsonby from the Allen family?” Evander flexed his fist.
“Yes. Am I supposed to seek your permission before purchasing land?” Fitzwilliam mocked, his head tilted.
I looked again at Marcella, who stood silently.
“Marcella?” I leaned forward on my horse. “Are you sure you are well?”
She seemed to be stuck in thought, but even so, the manner of his grip on her was worrying. She winced for a brief moment before glancing up at me with a smile. “I am fine.”
I did not believe that. There was a smile on her face, but her eyes looked like she was begging me for something.
“Yes, she’s perfectly fine, though clumsy at times. I tell her she must be careful in these forests. There is quite a deep river up ahead by the rocks. It’s very dangerous, my dear,” Fitzwilliam said, brushing the side of her head.
I glanced at Fitzwilliam, who smiled at me. “I do hope you both shall still attend my ball this evening, Mr. Topwells.”
“Of course, Your Grace, it is my honor, though I must admit I was surprised to receive an invitation after my last interaction with the duke.” He shifted his gaze to Evander, who was already back on his horse.
“Of course you are invited, Mr. Topwells, as your wife and I have formed quite an attachment. Marcella, should you need anything of me, do not hesitate to call on me.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said softly. That was not her usual tone of voice, either.
I wished to understand what was wrong. But she seemed ill-suited to explain, if the grip Fitzwilliam had on her arm was any indication.
Something was not right.
I sought to move closer, but Evander’s horse blocked my path. “We must head back, as there is still much to prepare,” he said with all humor and joy removed from his voice.
What was I to say? “Right.” I looked once more at Marcella. “See you both tonight.”
“Yes, you shall,” Fitzwilliam replied. They stood there as Evander turned his horse around.
I followed but glanced back once more at the pair. Fitzwilliam was still giving me a chilling smile.
“Aphrodite,” Evander called, and I refocused. It was only when we were a good distance away that he turned to me angrily. “Let me restate how deeply I desire for him not to be there.”
“That would defeat the purpose,” I replied. “I thought I explained.”
