Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

Daniel half expected the faithful butler of Blackthorn Estate to throw him out the moment he stepped foot on the front porch. To his surprise, the man even ushered him inside despite the sharp disapproval in his gaze.

Fantastic. Now, I am even judged by the servants.

But it was just like Evie to inspire loyalty simply with her kindness alone, whereas Daniel preferred to pay his staff handsomely for it.

He was led into the drawing room, and to his surprise, he found Alice seated on the sofa, with Colin standing behind her, his hand placed protectively on her shoulder. His old friend glared coldly at him, while the new Duchess of Blackthorn simply gave him a slight smile.

“Took you long enough, Duke,” she said softly.

“Darling, why are we even bothering to show him in?” Colin grunted.

Alice simply reached up to pat the hand on her shoulder as if she was reassuring an indignant, little boy and not her grown man of a husband.

“Do not be difficult, dearest.” She smiled up at him. “You promised.”

Daniel did not know what kind of promise she had managed to extract from his friend, nor did he care to find out. All he wanted was to find Evie and grovel at her feet if need be.

“You can be angry at me,” he told Colin. “You can hit me again if that will make you feel better. You can stop talking to me and disregard our friendship for the rest of our lives, but you will not stop me from talking to Evie.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to her?” Colin snapped.

Daniel looked at him pointedly. “It was your fine suggestion that I stay away from her if I recall correctly.”

“For her own good!” his friend fumed. “Seeing as how much you have hurt her⁠—”

“Colin.”

All it took was one word from Alice and he reined himself in. Love truly worked wonders, even on a man as defiantly stubborn as Colin Fitzroy.

“I have sent Thomas Salsbury and his sister away,” Daniel told them harshly. “I have shut down the printing press that colluded with her to spew that vile gossip about Evie.”

Alice smiled serenely. “Somehow, I knew you had a hand in these recent happenings.”

“I have taken care of everything,” he admitted. “All except one.”

Colin glared at him and raised his eyebrow. “The annulment?”

“Colin!” his wife warned him.

“An annulment so soon would ruin Evie’s reputation,” Daniel told him coldly. “I could not risk that. Besides, the last time we spoke, she did not care for one.”

“She does not know what she wants!” Colin roared.

“And you clearly do not know what your sister wants,” Daniel responded just as fiercely. He turned his gaze to Alice, who chose to stay quiet during all of this, save for her warnings to her husband. “Am I correct, Duchess?”

The young Duchess smiled at him and casually sipped her tea. “I have always thought it so vexing when men think they can make decisions for us women.”

With a few well-placed words, she had effectively chastised both of them for daring to do what they thought was good for Evie without taking her opinions into consideration. Alice Fitzroy was going to be quite the formidable Duchess, indeed.

Just like Evie was going to be.

“Am I to assume that you have properly learned your lesson, then?” she continued, regarding Daniel with a slight smile. Even Caroline in her prime was probably not as impressive.

“If by ‘lesson,’ you mean that I will take Evie’s opinions into consideration in the future, then, yes,” he admitted. “I will not hesitate when it comes to her safety, though.”

Alice set her cup down. “I think that should be good enough for me. It remains to be seen whether dear Evie will find it acceptable.”

“I think not!” Colin protested.

“Oh, shush!” Alice gave her husband a reproachful look. “Evie deserves to hear what her husband has to say. Whether she chooses to stay with him is entirely up to her, and you will not interfere in it.”

“But—”

Alice pressed her fingers to her temples and looked at him in exasperation. “Have you seen Evie?” she demanded. “Have you seen how she walks around, pretending to smile for our benefit?”

“I know, darling,” Colin wheedled. “But surely, he is not the answer.”

“Perhaps,” she sighed. “But it is up to Evie to decide.”

She stood up and looked fiercely at Daniel. “If you dare to hurt her again, I will not forgive you, Duke.”

Daniel stood up and bowed politely to her. “I shall not waste your kindness this time… Alice.”

Her eyes softened, and she waved him away with a tired smile. “Evie likes to paint in the gardens around this time. She usually sets her easel up by the gazebo, under the shade.”

Daniel had been to Blackthorn Estate far too many times to not know the exact spot Alice mentioned.

“Thank you so much,” he muttered hoarsely.

And then, he turned on his heel and rushed to the gardens.

Why is it so cold?

Evie wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as she stepped out of the mansion and into the gardens with her brushes and paints tucked under her arm.

She recalled how her mama loved the gardens so much, how she would spend nearly all her time tending to the bushes and the flowers. She would have her tea in the gazebo and stare off into the distance.

She never knew then just how unhappy her mama had felt in her marriage. How her heart had longed for another despite how arduously her papa loved her.

Did you sit here and not feel the sun on your skin, too?Evie wanted to ask her.

But her mama was gone. She had chosen death, to be with the man she had foolishly given her heart to, even when she had an entire family who loved her.

Evie never thought that she would ever have something in common with the woman who once put her daughter’s life in jeopardy when she chose to immolate herself in her own home.

She had never felt the sheer helplessness of heartbreak—until Daniel.

“Dr. Jenning said that it would be good for Your Grace to go out often,” Jane murmured. “Fresh air is always good for the body.”

Evie nodded, frowning a little as the slightest breeze made her hair stand on end and made gooseflesh spread all over her arms. When did she become so fragile?

“I would like some tea please, Jane,” she said quietly.

Her maid nodded and stepped back quietly. “I shall be back soon, Your Grace.”

After Jane left, Evie slowly unfolded the leather roll-up case that held her brushes. Her hand hovered each one as she decided which one she was going to use, her mind wandering all the while.

Mr. Turner had returned for their lesson just yesterday, and although he did not say much about the paintings she had created out of the depths of her despair, she could tell he approved of them.

“Not all of our works have to be for everybody, Your Grace,” he had told her then. “Some of them, we do for our own souls.”

Indeed, it had felt cathartic to release all her emotions onto the canvas. Red paint bled into the pristine white surface as she unleashed her anger. Gloomy black blossomed where her despair erupted. Black and white and all the shades of gray tangled with her confusion.

She had painted in streaks and bursts, wielding her brush like a rapier at times as she slashed and pierced at the canvas. Now, as her brush hovered over the blankness before her, she hesitated.

She had used several canvases to paint her emotions, but would there ever be enough space for all her grief?

At times, it threatened to swallow even the whole world, and all she could do was stare blankly for hours on end, brush in hand, wondering how she would ever be able to give it a form so that she might release it from her chest and finally unburden herself.

Like love, grief seemed to expand, taking up all the space in her heart.

Unlike love, however, it had nowhere to go, and so it stayed with her, tormenting her from within.

Perhaps it is not a color or formless like my other emotions. Perhaps grief is all the memories that once shone so brightly in my mind…

It was the chandelier sparkling brightly overhead, the elegant music that played, as Daniel held her in his arms while they twirled on the dance floor. It was that stolen moment in the moonlight when she first tasted his lips. It was in the subtle tilt of the corner of his lips, the gleam in his eyes that she knew all too well…

It was all of these things and more.

She could paint and paint and paint every vivid recollection, and hopefully, the pain would fade in time.

Or at least become tolerable enough for her to go on living with it.

Evie smiled sadly as she used her brush to mix the paint to capture the exact shade of the jacket Daniel had worn when he insisted on dancing with her.

She had been so annoyed with him back then, and how he had scared off all her suitors.

What I would give to have him glowering at me once more!

But it had been a week, and although he had sent Mr. Turner to her, she had not heard from him at all.

Perhaps it was not a wedding gift but a parting gift, after all.

She blinked back the tears as she swirled the paint-drenched brush across the canvas, bringing to life all the heartache and misery she felt.

She painted the darkness in his hair, and her fingers longed to run through it once more. She painted the broadness of his shoulders and the comfort and security she once felt in his arms. She painted the slight smirk and felt her breath hitch in her throat at the sight.

She painted him as she saw him that night at the ball—incredibly handsome, stoic, domineering, and protective beyond measure.

She was so absorbed in her art that when she heard the sound of grass crunching underfoot, she did not even bother to turn around.

“Just put the tea in the gazebo, Jane,” she murmured distractedly. “I shall have it once I am finished.”

Instead of her maid voicing her acknowledgment, however, it was a familiar, heart-wrenching, low voice that drifted to her ears.

“Your art is magnificent.”

Evie stiffened, her brush hovering in midair as her heart clenched painfully in her chest. The tears she had been holding back slid down her cheeks.

No.She shook her head. This is all just my imagination. He cannot possibly be here.

How many times had she dreamed of him coming to her?

For the first few days, she had lain in bed, hoping that the next time Jane entered her rooms, it would be to tell her that he had finally come for her. She had spent hours in the parlor waiting for the butler to announce that he had come for her.

In the end, it was never him.

Why did her mind play such cruel tricks on her this time?

“Turn around, Duchess,” he called out to her in that achingly hoarse voice that tormented her even in her waking hours. “Turn around so I can properly tell you how dreadfully sorry I am and what a bastard your husband has been to hurt you so.”

Her fingers trembled, and the brush dropped to the grass, barely making a sound.

Slowly, she began to turn around, and her tears rolled hot and fast down her cheeks.

Standing before her, at last, was the man her heart had yearned for through all the grief and rage and confusion.

He had finally come.