Chapter Eleven

Later that evening

When Evan entered his study, he was pleasantly surprised to find his wife already there. Ensconced in a buttery leather chair, she had a book in her lap, and in a pale blue nightdress and matching robe with her hair down, she looked every inch a ghostly specter who'd gotten lost.

"Vivy, is all well?" Though he'd spent time with her at dinner—she'd stayed at Lockwood's for tea, and he didn't begrudge her the opportunity to chat with friends—she had seemed a touch melancholic.

"It is." She glanced up from her book and gave him a smile, but the gesture didn't meet her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, for one, you are in here." He closed the door behind him before crossing the floor and then sitting in the chair that matched hers. The fire in the hearth was well on its way to dying; the coals glowed orange and the heat therein was gentle and comforting. "And for another, you have an air of sadness about you." All his memories might have been stolen from him, but he'd spent enough time around his wife to know this wasn't usual.

"You are beginning to learn my moods." With a frown, Vivian set aside her book and gave him her whole attention. "But yes, I have been a touch maudlin since taking tea with the duchesses this afternoon."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Lady Edenthorpe has a new baby. I got to peek at the girl shortly before leaving her house, while Lady Broadmoor is increasing. I believe she is due in just over three months." Vivian pressed her lips together as she looked at him, and there were shadows clouding her eyes. "I am ecstatically happy for them, of course, but I cannot help but think of my own situation, cannot help but wonder if having children is something that will happen to me—you and me. What if you never have an heir?"

There was so much upset in her expression that his chest tightened. "I know I'm missing all of my memories of my past self and of our marriage, but I have been with you for more than a week, and I do know this." He leaned over, took her hand, and clasped her hand. "In this moment, it matters not to me that I don't have an heir; I'd much rather have you in my life."

"That doesn't mean once the novelty of having a wife wears off, once you've settled into your life as the Earl of Baselton has grown stale, you won't wonder what will become of your title if you have no heir." If possible, more melancholy entered her expression. "We have been married a long time now, and still there are no children. I think it's quite apparent that I'm the problem."

"Obviously, you are in a fragile state, and nothing I can say will alleviate that mood." But he slipped out of his chair to kneel in front of hers. "I haven't been in your recent life very long, so I have no right to offer advice or an opinion—"

"Oh, Evan." She shifted enough in the chair to frame his face with her palms. "Let me tell you something." When she held his gaze, his world tilted a tad. "You have been my husband for a long time, and even though you were missing for over five years, I am still your wife. When we were first married, we both wished for children. We had so many dreams for our lives."

"But then fate interfered." A trace of the maudlin feelings she experienced transferred to him. "Both my disappearance as well as my return ruined everything for you." He should never have come to London.

"I'm not sure everything was ruined, for you are here."

"Not the same as I was, and that was the man you loved." Gently, he pulled away and broke their connection. "You don't know enough about the man I am to know if I'm the sort you can fall in love with."

Her lips turned downward into a frown. "What are you saying?" Panic clouded her eyes as well as sounded in her voice. "Are you leaving me?"

"No. No!" With a groan, Evan scrambled to his feet. Then he tugged her into a standing position as well. "I don't ever plan to leave you again. It's my intention to remain by your side for as long as I live. And in doing so, I hope to God that I can be the man, the husband you need me to be."

The smile she gave him was tremulous at best. "None of that is an answer to our lack of children, and I fear as time goes on, that will prove the most important point." When her chin trembled, he nearly went to his knees again to beg her to forgive him. "You will grow to hate me, resent me, and then you will let me go."

Icy fingers of fear wrapped around his heart and squeezed. "Is that what you ultimately want? For me to set you free?" Not that he would blame her. She didn't deserve to trod the path that was ahead of them. "Let's face it, Vivy. I could be sterile. That might be the reason you haven't gotten with child." As far as the rogues had told him, he hadn't any health issues.

Except his fractured mind.

"Oh, I…" Her whole countenance paled, and she rather looked as if she wished to cast up her accounts. "I'm not certain that is the problem." The tendons in her neck worked with a hard swallow and she tugged on his hands. "Please, I don't want to spend the remainder of the night discussing this subject. It will only cause heartache."

"Fair enough." But he couldn't help thinking there were secrets she kept from him. Perhaps she would share in due time. "Do you have a favorite genre of book to read? Or perhaps I could read you poetry or passages from a favorite Shakespeare play."

"That sounds lovely." She ran her gaze up and down his person. "I rather enjoy when you're in your shirtsleeves and waistcoat. It inflames my imagination."

"Ah." Heat rose up the back of his neck, for he hadn't given much thought to his state of dress; he'd only known he couldn't find his wife and he'd missed her. Then another thought occurred to him. "Dear God."

"What?" Immediately, Vivan was on the alert.

"I don't remember how to dance. Hell, I don't even recall the myriad of dances or steps there are therein, nor the composers of songs." He stared at her with what felt like horror. "I'll make a fool of myself tomorrow night at the rout, even if we're not there to frolic."

"Oh?" When her expression brightened, his own mood lifted. "I would be happy to teach you one of the more popular country reels and perhaps something else. I'm not certain there will be time for a waltz, either tonight or tomorrow."

"That would be perfectly acceptable." As he spoke, Evan pulled her closer until he could slide a hand to the small of her back. "Is this a good start?"

"Ha." The soft sound of her chuckle had interest shivering down his shaft. "There are not many dances that allow a man to hold a woman so closely." Slowly, she slipped a hand up his chest to curl about his shoulder. "But I must say, this is quite delicious."

Before he could respond with words or a kiss, the unmistakable sound of glass crashing echoed through the room. A scream from his wife filled the heavy silence afterward. With a shout, he thrust her behind him, and turned to face whatever threat was coming into the house through the shattered window.

Something rolled across the carpet to land with a dull thud on the carpet.

"What the hell?" Tentatively, after pausing to make certain an intruder wouldn't come crawling through the window, he glanced over his shoulder at Vivian. "Stay here. You don't have on slippers, and I don't want your feet cut." Then he stepped to what was a large rock and over the shards of glass.

Tied to the rock with butcher's twine was a folded piece of paper.

"Be careful," she warned, and there was unmistakable fear wavering in her tone.

"I will." As gingerly as he could, Evan snatched up the rock, yanked at the twine, let the rock fall back to the carpeting as he kept the folded paper. It took next to no time to spread the paper open. "Damn."

"What?" Vivian lifted on her toes in an effort to see as he came over to her.

"Someone is threatening me." He held up the quickly scrawled note so she could read it.'

You are the weakest of the rogues, Baselton, and we are coming for you. Best put your house in order.

"Dear heavens." As if her knees could no longer support her, she collapsed into the nearest chair as she looked at him with fear-filled eyes. "What should we do?"

He wadded up the note and then tossed it into the hearth. "I am done with having fear and manipulation run through my club members and put everyone on edge. This is going to end tomorrow night, or I will hunt down these people myself."

With his chest tight with anxiety and the urge to protect his wife and his found family, Evan scooped Vivian up into his arms and then left the study.

"Should we summon a constable or one of your friends?" Her whole form shook in his hold, and those tremors transferred to him.

And damn it all if it made him wish to be stronger for her. "This is a personal problem that I and the rogues will solve in good time." He met her gaze and hoped to God she found everything she needed in him this night. "But right now? I'm taking my wife to bed because I wish to reassure her that I can and will take care of her and that I can make a life for the both of us, regardless of what this fucking criminal network thinks."

"Oh!" As Vivian's eyes darkened, a slow grin curved her highly kissable mouth. "I might require copious amounts of soothing," she said in a smoky whisper that had need pushing through every nerve ending.

He couldn't help his chuckle. "Then it would seem the remainder of our night is quite spoken for. I suppose it won't matter a jot that I cannot dance on the morrow."

"Reels are very much overrated if you ask me," she said before a giggle dissolved her words.

"Indeed." Though his soul had been shaken by the threat, as long as he was with Vivian, everything didn't seem all that horrid.

He hoped.