by Bree Wolf
Taken with the way her eyes flashed as she all but yelled at him, defending herself, Richard barely heard a word she said. Only slowly did her reasons find their way to his mind, and he remembered how she had told him that her father had intended her to be Mr. Bragg’s wife to ensure that she would be able to continue her work.
It seemed being a doctor was essential to her life. Something she cherished above all else. It was odd. Especially for a woman. However, it also presented an opportunity.
“If that is so,” he said, his gaze seeking hers, wishing he could be certain of what she thought, “then name your terms.”
Confused, she blinked. “My terms?”
Richard nodded. “Surely, even you must see that marrying me would have numerous advantages. Quite obviously, you are not interested in those that young women usually seek. However, I assure you that there are few limitations to what a union between us could do for you.” He took a step closer, noting the way her eyes moved as she considered his words. “What is it that you require in order to agree to this union? Name your terms.”
Chapter Fourteen – A Lady's Preference
And there it was.
The one reason that Evelyn had held in front of her like a shield slowly began to slip away. Was he serious? Would he truly allow her to continue her work? Would he support her instead of stand in her way?
Ever since Evelyn had read his father’s letter and understood its meaning–had that only been an hour ago? – her heart and mind had been at war. Although she knew that she would never be happy without the opportunity to tend to those who needed her help, Evelyn could not deny that she wanted to agree to this union.
She wanted to marry Lord Ashwood.
She wanted him.
Certainly, he could be utterly insufferable. The way he often misunderstood her riled her to no ends, and he had a way of seeing only…facts, of thinking in black and white as though he had never noticed the colour grey.
Still, most of the time, it seemed that his words were a simple truth–the way he saw it–and not meant to insult her ability or her notions of what to do, how to act, what to say. Sometimes, she swore he truly did not know why he was giving offence. It was utterly baffling!
Yes, he could be insufferable, and yet, there was something infinitely gentle and caring about him. Despite his cold exterior, it was obvious how devoted he was to his family–even though he expressed this devotion in a questionable way. He undoubtedly loved them and strove to protect them however possible.
That side of him appealed to her greatly, and Evelyn wished he would reveal more of his true self to her. Perhaps if she were his wife, she would find a way to see behind his mask.
Her heart hammered at the sudden realisation that if he meant what he offered, she had no reason to refuse him. The only thing holding her back was the fear to have her heart broken, for she could not be certain how he felt or even if he felt anything at all for her. Perhaps they could indeed come to care for each other.
Or perhaps not.
It was a risk. Was she willing to take it?
“Your terms,” he pressed when she remained silent, staring at him like a fool. Then all of a sudden, his features tensed. “Or would you prefer to marry Mr. Bragg?”
As though slapped, Evelyn blinked.
“He certainly could ensure that you have every opportunity to practise your skill,” Lord Ashwood continued, his voice growing tauter with each word to leave his lips. “If that is all you care about, then it would seem the only question is,” inhaling a slow breath, he took a step closer, “which man do you prefer? For he clearly would not refuse you.” His gaze settled more deeply on hers. “Neither would I.”
Overwhelmed at having her options presented to her so rationally, Evelyn could not keep her heart from overruling her mind. For once she chose to ignore the facts Lord Ashwood had laid out before her. Instead, she looked at the expectant and slightly fearful expression on his face. She took note of the way his chest rose and fell with each laboured breath. And she noticed the way he leaned toward her ever so slightly as though he wished to be closer.
As though he wanted her to agree not because he wanted to uphold his father’s word, but because he wanted her.
Evelyn swallowed. “You,” she finally whispered, delighting in the slight widening of his eyes. “I want…prefer you.” Inwardly, she cursed herself for hedging behind those words. However, fear held her back. Laying her feelings bare was a risk she was not quite willing to take yet.
Lord Ashwood swallowed, astonishment marking his features before the hint of a smile danced across his face. “Good.” He cleared his throat, clearly pretending to be unaffected.
It was that glimpse of vulnerability that endeared him to Evelyn.
“Does this mean you give your consent?” he asked, a measure of apprehension still on his features as though he did not dare believe his ears.
Evelyn inhaled a slow breath, willing her mind to reawaken from its temporary slumber. After all, blind trust never led anywhere good. “I do give my consent,” she replied, “if you promise not to interfere in my work.” She swallowed. “I will be your wife and as such,” for a second, her gaze dropped to the floor, “will fulfil all my duties. However, I am also a doctor, and you must promise you will allow me to fulfil my duties in that regard as well.” She inhaled a deep breath, never having been so aware of standing at a crossroad. “Well, then, what is your answer?”
A hint of disapproval hung on his features, and Evelyn knew that allowing her to be a doctor went against everything he thought right. Still, he answered without hesitation. “You have my word.”
Relieved, and yet, terrified, Evelyn nodded, realising that there was not a single doubt in her mind that he would keep his word. As he had said, he was an honourable man. For once, this was to her benefit.
“Since there is no reason to delay this,” Lord Ashwood continued, “I suggest having the banns read within the week. This way my sister might be able to attend before her departure to Crestwood House.”
There, Evelyn thought, another subtle sign of his devotion to his family. “I have no objection,” she heard herself say, her hands trembling at the thought of becoming Lord Ashwood’s wife within the month. “One month,” she whispered, her throat dry and her voice sounding hoarse.
His gaze met hers, deep and meaningful, and for the first time, Evelyn felt as though they were thinking the same thing, understanding each other perfectly. “One month,” he echoed her words, his chest rising slowly with a deep breath.
Inevitably, the afternoon he had kissed her right here in this very room came rushing back, and Evelyn inhaled a shuddering breath. Still, she also remembered her doubts about his motivations for kissing her. Had he truly wanted to? Or had it merely been a way for him to end their argument?
Now that her own heart was invested, Evelyn could not be certain. As easy as others were to read, she failed now when it mattered most. Doubt remained, and it would torture her if she did not stomp it into the ground.
Gathering all her courage, she stepped towards him, willing herself not to drop her gaze but instead observe the way he watched her approach. His eyes trailed over her face, and his brows drew down slightly in confusion. Clearly, he could not see what was on her mind, and for once, Evelyn was grateful for it.
“There’s one thing I need to…know,” she whispered, “before…” Her voice trailing off, Evelyn closed the remaining distance between them. One hand reached up to cup the side of his face, and before he could react, she pushed herself up onto her toes and pulled him into a kiss.
For a moment, Lord Ashwood seemed frozen in place. Only his heart beat wildly. She could feel it hammering beneath her other hand as it rested gently on his chest.
Not unlike her own.
Then he gently returned her kiss, his lips moving against hers, as he drew her into his arms. At first, he seemed hesitant, careful not to overstep a line. However, when she did not pull back, he grew more
daring. His hand traced the line of her jaw and then slipped into her hair, holding her to him.
For weeks, Evelyn had dreamed of a repetition of their first kiss, and now, as she lay in his arms, she never wanted it to stop. It felt heavenly.
Utterly right.
Even if doubts remained with regard to their compatibility, she could no longer deny that there was something between them.
Something strong.
And powerful.
And overwhelmingly sweet.
The way he cradled her in his arms said more than a thousand words ever could.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes gazed down at her in amazement.
Delighted, Evelyn could not prevent the smile that came to her lips. “One month,” she whispered rather breathlessly.
“One month,” he repeated, returning her smile with one of his own.
Never before had she seen him smile.
Not like this.
Not at her.
Chapter Fifteen – Utterly Affected
One month.
The words echoed in Evelyn’s mind as the days began to pass. One by one.
While her father and Mr. Bragg returned to the village, Evelyn remained in order to see to Miss Davenport. As expected, her father’s apprentice had been furious upon learning that she had agreed to marry Lord Ashwood. Indeed, he had been quite expressive in his anger and disappointment, and sometimes when Evelyn lay awake at night, she could still see his dark eyes shooting daggers at her as he had snarled, You will come to regret this. A man like him would never allow his wife to do such work. You are a fool!
Fortunately, neither Lady Ashwood nor Miss Davenport shared Mr. Bragg’s sentiments on the matter and welcomed Evelyn joyfully into their family.
“I had hoped my son would come to his senses and not allow you to leave,” Lady Ashwood beamed as they sat together one afternoon, discussing wedding preparations. After all, mid-December was now less than a month away. “Sometimes it is difficult to glimpse his true intentions as well as his motivations.”
Miss Davenport laughed, “That is rather an understatement, Mother.” She turned her gaze to Evelyn. “Most of the time, it seems as though he does not feel at all. He merely contemplates all options and then chooses the one that makes the most sense.” She shook her head in incomprehension. “Honestly, I’ve often wondered if he truly does not feel or if he simply denies himself the experience.”
“Claudia!” Lady Ashwood chastised her daughter. “I do not belie–”
“Whichever it is,” Miss Davenport went on unperturbed. “I cannot help but feel that it is a lonely existence, would you not agree?”
Although Miss Davenport often seemed rather unfeeling in her complaints about her brother, only seeing her own misery, Evelyn saw gentle concern in the way the young woman looked at her now. It seemed whether or not she agreed with her brother, she did feel for him nonetheless.
Evelyn nodded. “It certainly would appear so. However,…” She sighed, uncertain how to put her thoughts into words. After all, Lord Ashwood and his odd behaviour were the foremost things on her mind at the moment, and she had thought about him a great deal. “However, I cannot help but wonder if he would agree. After all, we are not all the same. While some people find joy in music, others detest it. I wonder if he truly suppresses his own wishes, or if he simply does not possess them.” As the words left her mouth, Evelyn could not help but doubt her own reasoning. More than once, she had seen deep emotions in Lord Ashwood’s eyes, in the way he had looked at her. Sometimes, his face seemed contorted with the desperate attempt to hold at bay whatever it was that currently threatened to overwhelm him.
No, he was not unfeeling, not a man without wayward emotions. Rather, it seemed that his control over them was highly developed. Still, even the most restrained person would eventually lose the battle between heart and mind.
Evelyn sighed, wondering what kind of a man Lord Ashwood would be if he allowed himself to act as he wished.
“You might be right,” Miss Davenport mused, her gaze distant as she clearly remembered previous disagreements with her brother. “He rarely seems affected. I often wondered why that was.” Then she shook her head. “Still, I cannot believe that he feels nothing. Why then does he sometimes get upset? Do you remember how he snapped at me when I dared object to being sent to Crestwood House?” She wrinkled her upper lip in disgust. “No, someone who doesn’t feel would never have acted thus and lost his temper as he did. Perhaps he is simply better at hiding how he truly feels.” She shrugged. “Why ever he feels the need to do so is beyond me though.”
“Perhaps now that he is getting married,” Lady Ashwood began, casting a gentle smile at Evelyn, “he will see that the risk of lowering his guard is well worth it.”
Evelyn momentarily averted her gaze, aware of the two sets of eyes watching her curiously, and she wondered what they truly thought of her marrying Lord Ashwood. After all, his mother was very much aware of the reason for their union. Still, the way she spoke of their wedding suggested that she believed them to be attached to one another.
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat.
Did his mother believe that her son cared for her? Could she be right? Or was it simply wishful thinking? Certainly, there was some kind of magnetism between them, but did it truly go beyond physical attraction? More than anything, Evelyn wished she knew if Lord Ashwood harboured any kind of affection for her in his heart.
For a moment, silence fell over the room as even Miss Davenport lowered her head, absentmindedly holding her tea cup in her hands, her gaze directed at the swirling liquid. Then she swallowed, and her gaze hardened as though she had come to a conclusion. “Miss Procten,” she said, a hint of tension on her face, “I was wondering if you would mind accompanying me to Crestwood House when my brother decides it is time for me to leave.” A hint of bitterness showed in her voice.
Evelyn’s mouth fell slightly open, not having expected that. And although she cared about Miss Davenport and wished to see her well, she could not deny that the thought of being separated from her future husband for weeks at a time was not appealing at all.
“Now, don’t be selfish, my dear,” Lady Ashwood interfered, gently patting her daughter’s knee. “I can understand your apprehension. However, I doubt Miss Procten wishes to be parted from her new husband so soon after the wedding.” Casting an understanding smile at Evelyn, Lady Ashwood turned back to her daughter. “Don’t fret, my dear. I promised to accompany you, and I certainly shall. You’ll see everything shall be fine.”
Returning her future mother-in-law’s smile gratefully, Evelyn sighed, her thoughts returning to the big event only a fortnight away. Still, the term big event might be a bit of an overstatement as Lord Ashwood–in order to conceal his sister’s condition–had announced that he would only invite his closest childhood friend and his family. And while Evelyn was well-liked in Tamworth Village, her rather unorthodox aspirations of becoming a doctor had not brought her many true friends among the villagers. In fact, many seemed to share Mr. Bragg’s opinion that such was not appropriate work for a woman, hence her difficulty in finding patients willing to allow her to treat them. Therefore, only her father would be in attendance as her only remaining family.
Answering questions about flowers and food, Evelyn still experienced a certain sense of detachedness when it came to her impending nuptials. In fact, she could almost pretend that nothing had changed whatsoever, and she was simply still at Farnworth Manor to see to Lord Ashwood’s sister. Only in moments when she and her betrothed would stumble upon one another did Evelyn feel that she was on a path quite unlike the one she had seen in her future.
Whenever they would find themselves in the same room–be it at mealtimes or rather by coincidence–Evelyn felt his gaze on her. And although he kept his face almost expressionless, she could still see the way he seemed to breathe in more deeply when he looked at her. His eyes, though always guarded, would follow her, tracing
the line of her neck or the movement of her hand as she brought the fork to her mouth.
The intensity in her future husband’s gaze sent delightful tingles into every fibre of Evelyn’s body, which could only be surpassed by the feel of his touch.
Strangely enough, ever since they had become betrothed, Lord Ashwood appeared to find countless, seemingly accidental opportunities to touch her. His hand in the small of her back when he escorted her to supper. Offering her his arm when strolling through the snow-covered garden alongside his mother and sister–something she had never seen him do before. His arm brushing hers as he stepped past her as though nothing had happened.
In the beginning, Evelyn had thought these occurrences accidental indeed.
However, then she began to wonder about the frequency with which they occurred. And so, she started to keep an eye out for them, acutely aware when Lord Ashwood was near, and before long, she could spot something in his eyes that spoke of intention. He drew purposefully near–at least to her eyes–his face though remained an expressionless mask as though nothing in the world could ever touch him.
Only Evelyn knew how wrong that assumption was.
One morning, she headed downstairs toward the breakfast parlour without Lady Ashwood and Miss Davenport, her eyes sweeping over the lower floor as she descended the stairs, expecting to see Lord Ashwood appear as though by coincidence. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and she could not help but wonder at herself, at her own reaction to his mere presence. In consequence, when he failed to appear, Evelyn’s spirits sank, and a wave of disappointment swept through her.
Shaking her head at her girlish infatuation, Evelyn was about to take the last step down onto the ground floor when she registered movement out of the corner of her eye. Jerking her head around as though her life depended on catching at least one glimpse of him, Evelyn promptly lost her balance. Her foot slid off the last step, and her right arm reached back, blindly grasping for the banister.