Oppressed & Empowered: The Viscount's Capable Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 11)

by Bree Wolf

  Spinning on her heel, Evelyn headed straight for her betrothed’s study, having concluded that he was in all likelihood to be found there even when the estate did not demand his attention for it seemed to be his retreat.

  Without knocking, she burst into the room, enjoying the shocked look on his face as he shot to his feet, alarm coming to his eyes. “Is something wrong?” he demanded, rounding his desk. “Is my mother all right?”

  Unwilling to torture him thus, Evelyn nodded. “She’s fine.” Closing the door loudly, she fixed him with an angry stare. “She is not the reason I’m here though. You are.”

  His eyes narrowed as he watched her, and she could see that he was confused. Did he truly not know? Still, in her anger, Evelyn was far from willing to excuse his behaviour. “Why did you call for Mr. Bragg?”

  Lord Ashwood’s frown deepened as though the answer to her question ought to be obvious. “This is my mother’s health,” he said, his words chosen with care, “and so I thought it right to have a doctor ensure that all had been done to see her well.”

  Nonetheless, his words were like a slap in the face. “I am a doctor!” Evelyn snapped, lifting a hand when it seemed he wanted to object. “Whether or not people grant me the right to call me thus is irrelevant.” She swallowed, sadness chasing away her anger. “My knowledge is extensive. I’ve been training for years. I know what I’m doing. I would never endanger anyone, especially not your mother. She’s a wonderful woman, who’s always encouraged me, supported me, and I care for her deeply.” Holding his gaze, she stepped forward, finally asking the one question that had been on her mind for a while now. “Why can you not trust me? Even though your family does, you still doubt me. Why?”

  Chapter Seventeen – An Enigma

  Richard stared at her.

  Although a part of him could understand her anger, he was certain he had done nothing wrong, nothing to justify such a reaction. After all, facts were facts. There was no changing that. “You cannot truly want me to risk my mother’s well-being,” he said, at a loss. Did she truly value her pride more highly than his mother’s health? “I know you did what you could, but where is the harm in asking another’s opinion?”

  Briefly, she closed her eyes, a deep sigh leaving her lips. “You did not hear a word I said, did you?” she asked, her dark brown eyes sweeping over his face as though she were a scientist examining a new specimen.

  Gritting his teeth, Richard felt at a loss–as always. Although he often found himself misunderstanding the people around him, he had never made his peace with it. It still riled him that others knew with a single glance what he could not puzzle out in hours. “I will not apologise for my decision,” he replied, his tone harsher than he wanted it to be. “However, all my life, I’ve watched my sister get into scrapes because she does not think, because she does not contemplate the consequences of her actions and only follows her heart as she calls it.” Huffing, he shook his head. “The latest consequence is a true and utterly alarming testament to her misguided way of making decisions. While it seems rather obvious that I cannot change her, I refuse to participate in her downward spiral. I always have and always will base my decisions on facts, on reason, and I will not apologise for it.”

  Towering over her, Richard felt his limbs tremble with the agitation that coursed through his body. Never before had he explained himself to anyone. Not like this. Not while his pulse hammered in his veins.

  Suddenly free of accusation, her eyes held his. “Believe me, I understand what you’re saying, and I do not fault you for basing your decisions on reason.”

  Richard blinked, wondering if he had heard her right. “You do not?”

  Miss Procten shook her head. “I do not. I’ve even spoken to your sister about this, encouraging her to act with more caution.”

  Surprised and still at a loss, Richard stared down at her. “Then why are you…upset?”

  Slowly, she inhaled a deep breath, her eyes darting from side to side as though she was trying to find the right words. “You say, you base your decisions on facts. Then let me ask you, what is a fact? What makes a fact a fact? Yes, my father is a doctor, and I am not. But it is also a fact that neither is Mr. Bragg. He is merely an apprentice.”

  Richard nodded, glad to have her speak in such reasonable terms. “That is true,” he admitted. “However, it is also true that you are neither.”

  For a moment, her lips thinned. “I suppose that depends on your perspective.”

  Unease sneaked up his spine as he shook his head. “This is where you’re wrong. A fact is a fact no matter what perspective.”

  Miss Procten swallowed, the muscles in her jaw working. “Fine. Then tell me, what makes a doctor a doctor?”

  Richard frowned, wondering how this line of thinking would help her make her point. “All right. A doctor is one who receives said title from an educational facility specialising in that area. Like your father.”

  “And under what circumstances would such a title be awarded?”

  Richard shrugged. “When the person in question has proved that he is qualified enough to be deserving of said title.” Surprised, he noted the ghost of a smile that tickled the corners of her mouth and wondered how what he had just said could aid her in proving her point.

  “So, what you’re saying is that that title ought to be awarded to those who have sufficient knowledge in the field of medicine, is that correct?”

  “It is,” Richard said carefully, somehow sensing that she was close to turning his words against him.

  “Well, in that case,” Miss Procten said, her eyes never leaving his, “I deserve to be awarded that title. I may not have trained in a recognised medical facility. However, you yourself stated that my father is a man of expertise, and it was he who taught me everything he knows the same way he has been teaching Mr. Bragg. The only difference is that Mr. Bragg has been learning for a year, whereas, I have been learning ever since I can remember.” She took a step closer, a challenge lighting up her eyes. “Now, tell me for what reason I am not qualified enough to see to your mother?”

  Stunned to hear her state her qualification so simply, Richard wondered about the life she had led. “I was not aware of that,” he began, intrigued to learn more about her. “Did your father truly teach you the same way he taught Mr. Bragg? Are you certain he never kept anything from you? Shielded you from…injuries that were too severe?”

  “You may speak to him if you do not believe me,” Miss Procten said, the tension in her shoulders lessening. “However, he will tell you the same. I’ve not only birthed children, but also set broken bones, healed infections, treated burns and once even amputated a foot. Would you consider that sufficient qualification, my lord?”

  Richard felt his jaw drop at the last item on her list. “I had no idea,” he mumbled, realising his own foolishness. “I apologise for drawing the wrong conclusion. I assumed that you merely assisted your father in…certain matters as is commonly done. I didn’t think that he would include you in every aspect of his professional life. I’ve never heard of a father doing so.” Clearing his throat, Richard nodded. “I admit I was wrong.”

  “Thank you.” Inhaling deeply, Miss Procten shifted from one foot onto the other, her shoulders relaxing. Still, her gaze remained firmly locked on his face. “I suppose you did not know any of this because you never speak to me, you never ask me anything.” She sighed. “We are about to be husband and wife, and in truth, we know very little about each other. Does that not frighten you?”

  “Frighten me?” Richard echoed, surprised by the change in conversation. Quite honestly, he had never once thought about it. “Does it frighten you?” He swallowed, wondering what she was trying to tell him. “Do I…?”

  Shaking her head, she sighed. “You misunderstand, my lord. I am not frightened of you, but of…marrying a stranger. Someone I don’t know. Should husband and wife not trust each other? But how can they if they know nothing of one another? I’m saying I want to feel safe in
my home, in my family. Don’t you?”

  Safe? He wondered. Did she feel threatened here? Did she not think he would protect her?

  Staring at him in wonderment, she stepped closer. “I can see that you’re misunderstanding me once more. You have that look in your eyes that speaks of utter puzzlement as though…” At a loss for words, she shook her head. Then her eyes sought his once more. “Look at me and tell me what you think I’m feeling right now.” As though to throw him off, her lips quirked up into a smile.

  Taken aback, Richard stared down at her, increasingly aware of the fact that she seemed to know about his deficiency in reading other people’s facial expressions. Was she trying to play him for a fool? Although he had no idea what on earth she could be thinking, let alone feeling in that moment, he had a strong sense that the smile right now curling up her lips was not a genuine smile. Still, anything beyond that was a mere guessing game.

  His teeth clenched together almost painfully, and Richard had to fight the urge to lash out at her as shame rose to heat his face. “This is ridiculous,” he pressed out, stepping around her and toward the door.

  “Wait!” Her hand settled on his arm, light and yet determined, and kept him where he was. “I can see that I’ve upset you.” Once more she stepped in front of him, her wide brown eyes gentle as they swept over his face, no doubt reading him like an open book. “I assure you it was not my intention.”

  For a long moment, she simply looked at him, and Richard felt his insides settle. Then he nodded in acknowledgement.

  “You’re an enigma,” she suddenly said, an amused curl to her lips.

  Richard’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  Miss Procten nodded. “You are. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re difficult to read.” A laugh escaped her. “And I usually don’t have any trouble understanding another’s motivations. It is part of being a doctor, seeing how others feel even if they cannot put it into words or even try to hide it.”

  Intrigued, Richard asked, “What do you see when…you look at me?”

  The moment the words left his lips, he cursed himself for offering himself up for her censure. No doubt, she had little good to say about him, and hearing her criticise him would undoubtedly increase the chasm between them that seemed to grow wider every day. Had she not a moment ago told him that they were nothing more than strangers?

  “I see a kind and caring man,” Miss Procten answered his question, her gentle voice feeling like a balm to his tense soul as he listened to words he never thought he would hear. “You see it as your responsibility to provide for those in your care, but more than that, you have a desire to see them happy. You know those you care for well, even if you don’t understand them, and while you sometimes wish you could change them, you never force their hand…unless it’s for their own good. And even then, it makes you feel guilty for using your position to go against their will.” Her brown eyes held his, and there was a gentleness to her face that he had never seen before. “You feel misunderstood because you allow reason to guide your hand, which others often perceive as the acts of someone unfeeling. At the same time, you are often frustrated because…understanding them in turn does not come easy to you, does it?”

  Richard swallowed. “It does not,” he admitted, feeling utterly vulnerable, his weakness bared for all the world to see. Perhaps not all the world, but her. Would she think less of him now?

  “What do you see when you look at me?” Miss Procten returned his earlier question, her gaze briefly dropping from his as though she, too, feared his censure.

  Richard shrugged. “I cannot say with certainty,” he admitted, feeling utterly liberated to have someone know what lived in his heart. “As you’ve deduced so accurately, I generally fail at reading others.”

  “Tell me,” she insisted, her gaze once again steady, urging him to speak his mind. “Tell me what you see when you look at me, for I do not believe that you see nothing.”

  Richard swallowed, praying that his words would not miss their mark by far, that she would not hold them against him, that he would not come to regret them for the rest of his life. “You…you care deeply for others,” he began, uncertainty clear in his voice. “You do not hesitate to help if need be, and sometimes even forget to think about yourself in your desire to assist others.” Seeing the soft curl to her lips, Richard felt his voice grow stronger. “You are determined and head-strong. You’re not afraid to fight for what you want, for what you deem right. You see the world in many facets, and you try to find a balance between heart and mind.”

  Holding his gaze, Miss Procten exhaled slowly. “I guess I was wrong,” she whispered. “We’re not strangers, are we?”

  Richard swallowed, inordinately pleased by her words. “Neither do we know each other well though,” he could not help to point out.

  She smiled. “You’re utterly honest, too,” she amended her judgement. “I appreciate that.”

  For a long moment, silence hung between them as each looked at the other, trying to assess where they could go from there. They were not strangers, no. Quite obviously, they had come to learn about the other. However, they were far from being confidants, from knowing each other in and out. Still, there was potential here, was there not? A chance for a deeper connection than Richard had ever dreamed possible, and from the way her eyes looked into his, he thought she had come to the same conclusion.

  “Will you promise me something?” Miss Procten asked into the stillness of the room.

  Richard nodded.

  “Will you promise to speak to me? To listen to me?” She inhaled a slow breath. “I want to know the man you are. I want to understand you, and I want you to understand me. We don’t have to agree on everything, but as long as we can understand each other’s motivations and reasonings, I believe we can come to respect each other’s opinion, each other’s decisions. But in order to do so, we need to speak to each other, to get to know each other.” She smiled up at him, and Richard felt the sudden impulse to agree to anything she asked. “Will you promise me to do so?”

  Seeing the promise of a future in her eyes, Richard nodded. “I shall try.”

  “As shall I,” she replied. “It’s all anyone can do.”

  Richard sighed, wondering what she would think of him if she knew the man he was deep inside. After all, few people truly liked him, especially not once they got to know him better. They thought him cold and calculated, opinionated and arrogant.

  Still, she would be his wife soon, and he could not refuse such a simple, and yet, heartfelt request. Perhaps sharing more of himself with another person would not inevitably lead to disaster. To disappointment. Perhaps she would come to understand why he was the man he was and not see anything wrong in his thinking, in the way he felt.

  Perhaps she was the one person who would finally understand him.

  Chapter Eighteen – A New Family

  Standing in front of the tall mirror in her chamber, Evelyn gazed at the young woman looking back at her. The sight was rather unusual as Evelyn never tended to dress in such finery. However, her soon-to-be mother-in-law had insisted on having a new dress made and had offered her own lady’s maid to work on Evelyn’s hair.

  Now, Evelyn simply stood there, framed by Lady Ashwood and Miss Davenport, her eyes gliding upward over the pale blue gown, accenting her dark eyes. Small flower blossoms had been woven into her hair, and she had donned the simple pair of silver earrings her mother had left her.

  “You look beautiful, my dear,” Lady Ashwood beamed, her smile radiant, happiness filling her eyes as they met Evelyn’s. “I could not have hoped for more on this day. I’m so glad my son has found you.”

  Considering the circumstances, Evelyn found her future mother-in-law’s words a bit odd. After all, theirs was far from a love match. Still, Evelyn could not deny that she did harbour tender emotions for her betrothed, and if she was not thoroughly mistaken, he cared for her as well, did he not?

  Naturally, doubt remained,
and Evelyn accepted it as a part of life. How could there not be doubt when two people joined their lives together under the present circumstances?

  “Thank you, my lady,” Evelyn said, nodding to Lady Ashwood, who affectionately brushed a curl from Evelyn’s forehead.

  “Oh, please call me Camilla,” the older woman asked, tears misting her eyes. “After all, you will be my daughter after today.”

  Touched, Evelyn returned the woman’s smile, feeling her own heart twist and turn, unable to settle on one feeling alone. For in this moment, Evelyn could not help but miss her own mother terribly. Although she barely remembered her, it was the idea of a woman holding her hand through sadness and joy, someone to guide her and watch over her, that she missed, that she had longed for all her life.

  Looking at Lady A-Camilla, Evelyn wondered if this marriage would not only bring her a husband, but a mother as well. From the look on Camilla’s face, it was apparent that Evelyn was not the only one strongly affected by today’s events.

  “And you must call me Claudia,” Miss Davenport insisted, a beaming smile on her face. “And we shall call you Evelyn.”

  Laughing, they all agreed, and after a few quick hugs so as not to wrinkle Evelyn’s dress or upend her coiffure, they all proceeded downstairs.

  Wrapping thick cloaks over their exquisite dresses, the three women braced the harsh wind and stepped out into the cold to walk the few steps over to the small chapel. Fortunately, Camilla’s ankle had healed quickly, and she could already walk with the help of a walking stick to help keep most of her weight off her injured foot.

  The moment they stepped into the warmth of the small chapel, Evelyn’s gaze sought her betrothed, who stood up front at the altar, his childhood friend, Lord Weston by his side.

  Two days ago, Sebastian Campbell, Lord Weston, and his wife Charlotte Campbell, Lady Weston (who was indeed the young woman Evelyn had tended to about a year ago), had arrived at Farnworth Manor. They had been accompanied by the young lord’s sister Victoria, her three-month-old son Philip as well as his mother, the dowager countess. From what Evelyn had learnt, Victoria’s husband had died in a tragic accident before the birth of their son.