by Bree Wolf
Before either of them could say more, a knock sounded on the door, jarring them both out of the paralysis that seemed to have come over them.
“Enter!” Lord Ashwood growled, his eyes never veering from hers.
Unaware of the tension in the room, Mr. Bragg stepped inside, a frown coming to his face as he took note of them standing almost head to head, glaring at one another. “Is something wrong?”
Inhaling loudly, Lord Ashwood finally broke their contact, his gaze lifting to meet Mr. Bragg’s, an angry snarl still planted firmly on his face. “Nothing that concerns you,” he snapped, then seemed to realise his rudeness and briefly closed his eyes in order to compose himself. “What can I do for you?” he then asked with forced politeness, stepping closer to his desk.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Bragg failed at hiding his curiosity as his gaze continued to study them. Nevertheless, he managed to speak with a certain fluidity. “I am here to inform you that Dr. Procten has sufficiently recovered and wishes to return home.” His gaze, hard and somewhat challenging, met Evelyn’s. “I agree with his desire to depart as soon as possible as the peace and quiet of his own home will do him good.”
Evelyn could have slapped him for his overbearing attitude as though he knew best how to take care of her father. Not that he truly cared. This was nothing less than a struggle for dominance, for power over her. He wanted her to know that he was the one in charge.
Even if she had not been certain before, this proved to Evelyn once and for all that she could never marry Mr. Bragg…no matter what the consequences.
What of Lord Ashwood? A traitorous voice whispered.
“I assure you, my lord,” Mr. Bragg continued, his face now bearing a polite expression as he spoke to Lord Ashwood, “that I shall return as needed to see to your sister and assure her well-being and swift recovery.”
Lord Ashwood nodded in acknowledgement to Mr. Bragg’s words. His gaze, however, never left Evelyn’s face, and she felt the full weight of his stare all the way to her toes.
In answer, her heartbeat quickened once more, and she could barely keep herself from averting her eyes, afraid he would see it as a sign of weakness, but equally fearing he might read her feelings for him on her face.
Never had Evelyn felt so insecure about who she was and what she wanted. Always had she stood tall, demanding to be heard. What had happened to her? Was this what love did to people? Robbed them of everything that made them who they were?
Love? That traitorous voice whispered once more.
Evelyn froze, and her eyes widened as she realised the implications of her thoughts. No, this could not be! This was impossible! After all, she was far too rational to allow herself to lose her heart to…
Her gaze lifted on its own, and she found Lord Ashwood’s eyes still fixed on her, a slight frown on his features as he watched her. Could he tell the direction of her thoughts? Did he now know that…?
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentler than it had been before. There was barely a touch of latent anger in it. Mostly, it held concern.
Lord Ashwood’s gaze roamed her face as he stepped toward her, completely ignoring Mr. Bragg. “Are you well? You seem pale. Perhaps you should sit–”
Evelyn shrank back as he approached, his hand held out to her in offer of assistance, nothing more–she told herself. Still, his nearness once more threatened to overwhelm her good sense, and she could not allow that to happen. “I’m fine,” she finally managed to articulate, her voice sounding harsh even to her own ears.
Stepping toward Mr. Bragg–the far safer option at the moment–Evelyn hesitated when she realised she was still holding Lord Ashwood’s letter in her hand. Reluctantly, she turned back, forcing her gaze to remain steady as it met his. Then her arm extended, holding out the letter. “I believe this is yours.”
Lord Ashwood inhaled a torturously slow breath, his nostrils flaring as he fixed her with a hard stare. “Not only the letter is mine,” he said, his voice quiet, and yet, almost threatening…at least to Evelyn’s resolve for she very well understood the meaning behind those seemingly unremarkable words.
She needed to leave.
Now.
After a hastily mumbled goodbye, Evelyn fled down the corridor, determined to lose Mr. Bragg before he could attempt to catch up with her. Her feet moved, and yet, her mind never saw the floor below them or the way ahead. All it saw were those dark grey eyes looking into hers.
Tempting her.
Her heart.
Her resolve.
Gritting her teeth, Evelyn surged onward as though outrunning Mr. Bragg would somehow put everything to rights. Of course, it wouldn’t. That was nonsense! Evelyn knew that, and yet, her feet wouldn’t slow down.
“Is something wrong?”
Jarring to a halt at her father’s voice, Evelyn stared at his face. Her breath came in pants, and her heart hammered in her chest as her eyes swept over her father’s good-natured and at present slightly concerned face.
“Why are you running?” he enquired as he closed the door to the chamber he had occupied during his recovery at Farnworth Manor. “Is something wrong?” he repeated, the tone in his voice becoming more urgent. “Is it Miss Davenport?”
Evelyn swallowed. “No, she’s fine.” Still staring at her father, she still could not believe that this man, the man who had been there for her all her life, had agreed to give her hand in marriage without ever even mentioning it to her. “I…” Her voice broke off, and she shook her head. “A part of me cannot believe it’s true.”
For a brief moment, her father’s eyes narrowed before a note of understanding came to his face. “You know,” he whispered as though he couldn’t find the right words, either. “I suspected as much when Lady Dashwood came to speak to me.”
A puzzle piece fell into place, and Evelyn nodded. “That’s what she came to speak to you about,” Evelyn mumbled, slowly feeling the numbness leave her mind. Her gaze cleared, and her eyes turned to her father. “How could you? You never said a thing. Never. Not a word. How could you?”
The left corner of her father’s mouth curved upward. “Are you angry because of the agreement? Or because I never mentioned it to you?”
Evelyn glared at him. “Don’t you dare jest at a time like this?” She heaved a deep sigh. “Both.”
“I see,” her father mumbled. “What do you intend to do?”
Evelyn threw up her hands. “Do? Nothing.” Her eyes narrowed. “You do not intend to insist upon it, do you? You do not truly want us to marry?” For a moment, Evelyn felt her heart stop, and she wondered if she truly wanted him to say ‘no’.
Stepping toward her, her father drew her trembling hands into his. “What I want does not matter,” he said, his eyes gentle as they looked into hers. “What matters is what you want. Have you asked yourself that?”
Dropping her gaze, Evelyn inhaled a slow breath as a hint of panic stole up her spine. “It’s not that simple, Father.”
“But it should be.”
Her gaze flew up. “But it isn’t!” she snapped, annoyed with way her father sometimes looked at the world as though one only need to know what one wanted in order to succeed. If only life were that easy!
An indulged smile came to her father’s face. “Tell yourself what you wish. However, the truth is that this is your decision. Yours and his, and no one else’s.” He sighed, his hands squeezing hers. “And so you must ask yourself, what do you want?”
Evelyn closed her eyes, a shuddering sigh leaving her lips. She could feel her father’s hands holding hers tightly, grounding her, before they slowly fell away and she heard the sound of his receding steps.
A moment later, when she opened her eyes, he was gone.
And she was alone.
This was indeed her decision, and she would have to make it on her own.
Chapter Thirteen – On Her Terms
The moment the door closed behind her–behind them! –Richard almost growled in frustration
. Not until this very moment when she had all but refused him had Richard realised that he did want her.
Naturally, a part of him still argued against her. After all, she was far from a suitable match for a man in his position. He ought to choose a lady of noble birth, from a high-standing family. A woman who knew her place and would fulfil her role as lady of the house to his satisfaction.
Richard doubted very much that Miss Procten–Evelyn! –would ever submit to him…at least not without a fight.
Still, he could not deny that his father’s words, his plea for his son to heed this agreement, meant something to him. Could he ignore such an honest and well-intended request and still call himself an honourable man?
However, it was not truly a request, was it?
No, indeed his father and Dr. Procten had agreed on it already. Which meant that if he were to refuse to marry Miss Procten, he would be going back on his father’s word. He would dishonour him. Shame him and his family.
That was not the kind of man he was.
Therefore, he did not have a choice. Somehow, he needed to convince her that it would be in her best interest to agree to marry him.
Richard frowned, wondering what had made her refuse him. Indeed, if he was not mistaken–and it was not unlikely that he was–she had seemed almost frightened at the thought of tying herself to him.
Never would Richard have expected such a reaction. Certainly, he would never have thought her overjoyed at the prospect. However, this agreement was more to her benefit than to his.
After all, what girl from a simple household would ever refuse to marry a viscount? A peer of the realm?
Such a thing was unheard of, was it not? After all, what reason could she possibly have?
Frustration gave his limbs strength, and his legs carried him up and down the floor like a caged animal, restless and trapped. Richard did not know how long he paced, only that the chaos in his head riled him like never before. What was he to do? What was the right course of action?
Again, a knock sounded on his door, and his heart skipped a beat as an image of Miss Procten drifted before his inner eye. Within a few steps, he was at the door, all but yanking it open.
Disappointment engulfed him.
“Are you all right, my son?” his mother asked, her brows drawn down deeply as her gaze slid over him. “What on earth has happened? We heard Miss Procten is leaving.”
As he glanced behind her, Richard took note of Dr. Procten standing off to the side, his watchful eyes taking in the scene. Why was the man here? Was he not returning home with his daughter? Was he not the reason she was leaving? Or had Mr. Bragg once more stretched the truth in order to remove Miss Procten from Farnworth Manor? After all, the man seemed determined to claim her for himself.
Suppressing a growl, Richard turned away and walked back into his study, unable to answer even such a simple question as the one his mother had asked. How was he to explain any of this to his mother? He heard her and Dr. Procten step inside as well and the door closing behind them.
For a moment, silence hung about the room as he stood by the window, gazing out at the wintry landscape below.
“Will you simply allow her to go?” his mother enquired after a while.
Richard sighed. After all, there was nothing simple about this. “She does not wish to marry me,” he forced out through gritted teeth, taken aback at how much it pained him to admit this.
“Did you ask her?”
Turning to face his mother, Richard inhaled a slow breath, forcing himself to remain calm as he saw her brows rise in challenge. Did she truly believe he acted wrongly? That he ought to have applied himself more? After all, this had never been his idea. It had been theirs, and now they simply stood there and berated him for not following their plan.
It was maddening!
Striding past them, Richard made to leave. “I mean no offence,” he said as he pulled open the door, “but I do not wish to discuss this with you.”
The door was already halfway open, his foot ready to stride forward when his mother called his name. “Please, I urge you not to run from this.”
Stilling his retreat, Richard sighed, hanging his head. Decorum prevented him from simply ignoring his mother and striding out the door, no matter how much he wished he could do so.
“You need to make a choice, my son,” his mother pleaded, her hand coming to grasp his arm, urging him to turn and look at her. “Ask yourself what you want, not what you think would be right. I do believe that is what your father has been trying to tell you.”
Reluctantly, Richard met his mother’s gaze, unwilling to relinquish his anger, and yet, unable to ignore the hint of desperation in her voice.
“Follow your heart.” Holding his gaze, his mother nodded at him encouragingly. “I’ve never seen you simply act upon your own wishes, not if they were not also reasonable conclusions.” Her hands clasped his. “This once, please, do as you want.”
But she does not want me!
Gritting his teeth, Richard forced the words back down. “I know I am far from observant,” he hissed, terrified by his imminent loss of control, “and I’m aware that others do not suffer from this affliction.” He inhaled a laboured breath, unwilling to lash out at his mother. “Can you not see that I’m furious?” Dimly, Richard was aware of Dr. Procten’s presence somewhere in the room. However, in that moment, he could not bring himself to care.
At his words, his mother’s face softened as though she had hoped to hear him say thus. It made no sense. “And have you asked yourself why that is?” she demanded, her gaze watchful as it held his.
Because she refused me! Because she does not want me!
“I ask you not to patronise me, Mother,” he growled, unable to keep his anger from showing in his voice. “By agreeing to this plan,” he glanced at Dr. Procten, “Father tied my hands, and he did not even have the courtesy to inform me thusly. Now, I am honour-bound to marry Miss Procten, a woman who is most unsuitable and who has the audacity to act as though the advantage of this arranged union is all mine. Yes, Mother, I know quite well why I’m angry.”
The hint of a smile curled up his mother’s mouth, and the unexpectedness of seeing it robbed Richard of his composure. What was he missing? Was she laughing about him?
“I apologise for my shocked reaction.”
Richard all but flinched at the sound of Miss Procten’s voice, hard and indignant, as she stepped through the open door and into the room behind him.
“However, I assure you, my lord, I never had any intention of holding you to your father’s word.”
Slowly, Richard turned around to face her, seeing the way her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes glared at him as though he was the source of all her troubles. “I apologise,” he said, horrified that she had heard him speak of her thus. “I had no intention of offending you.”
Miss Procten scoffed, “You did not? Well, even without intending to do so, you managed quite admirably.”
Behind him, Dr. Procten cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should give them a moment to talk this through.”
“Quite right,” Richard’s mother agreed, and within a moment, he and Miss Procten were alone, her brown eyes still as fiery as they had been before.
“This was not my doing if you recall,” she snapped, her arms rising and crossing in front of her chest. “You act as though I intentionally trapped you into marriage and then refused you. Is that what you think of me?” At her question, her voice seemed to lose momentum, softening as though a different emotion had overridden her anger. “Do you believe me to be so conceited? So devious?”
Richard sighed, feeling his own anger subside. “I do not.” His voice was surprisingly calm as he spoke. “I assure you I do not think ill of you.”
Nodding, Miss Procten inhaled a slow breath as her features lost some of their tension. “Thank you,” she mumbled, and the look on her face suggested that his opinion truly mattered to her.
Still, he co
uld not fathom why? If it did, then why would she refuse him?
Clearing her throat, Miss Procten released the tight grip her hands had had on her arms and her posture softened. “Well, then I suppose there is nothing left to say.” She made to leave.
“Quite on the contrary,” Richard heard himself object as his legs carried him toward her. “There is still the matter of the agreement.”
Her brows drew down and her eyes narrowed as she searched his face. “I assumed you agreed that a marriage between us would surely end in disaster. Did you not yourself state that we do not suit? Why then should we uphold this ludicrous agreement?”
“Because it was agreed upon,” Richard stated simply, unable to understand her objections. “Our fathers–whether we like it or not–thought it the right course of action for us. They gave their word, making it a binding contract that cannot be broken without loss of respectability.”
Shaking her head, Miss Procten stared at him. “But no one even knows. Not even we did until now.”
“That does not signify,” Richard objected. “We know now, and I, for one, cannot in good conscience break my father’s word and dishonour him thus.”
Miss Procten sighed, her eyes still narrowed as though his explanations were not enough for her. “What about what we want?” she asked in a small voice, and for a split second, she dropped her gaze before it held his once more, unwavering.
Almost.
Richard frowned, at a loss once again. “I admit I do not understand your objections. One would assume that a woman like yourself would be grateful for such an offer of marriage. After all, it is by far above anything you surely ever expected to receive. Or am I mistaken?”
For a long moment, Miss Procten simply stared at him, her jaw dropping ever so slowly. Then she jerked it back up, her teeth clenching together as her hands balled into fists.
Richard sighed. Apparently, he had upset her again. If only he knew how! Had he not simply stated facts? Common knowledge?
“Indeed, you are mistaken, my lord.” A snarl on her face, she stomped toward him. “Never have I wanted to be anyone’s wife.” She spat the word as though it were poison. “I am my own person, not someone’s accessory. I am a doctor–whether you admit it or not–and even without a husband, I will find a way to continue my work.”