Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Emma

T he storm raged outside, a torrent of wind and rain battering the windows of the grand estate. Thunder rolled in the distance, each crackle growing louder, nearer, until the glass panes trembled with its force. The hour was late, and most of the household had long since retired, the halls dark and quiet save for the occasional flicker of lightning illuminating the rich wood paneling.

Emma wandered through the dimly lit corridors, the hem of her nightgown whispering against the polished floorboards. Sleep had eluded her, her thoughts restless and swirling. Ophelia’s words from earlier in the week lingered in her mind, chipping away at the carefully constructed walls she had built around her opinion of Evan. She hadn’t seen evidence of his philandering ways, in fact, he found that often when he returned late from town he carried ledger, legal books and other things that indicated he had been working.

She had told herself, time and again, that he was no different from the other men of his station—a philanderer cloaked in charm and privilege. Yet, her recent encounters with him had begun to unravel that certainty. Twice this week, they had shared dinner, an arrangement initiated by Evan with unexpected civility. The first evening had been awkward, their conversation stilted and polite. Yet by the second, a tentative rhythm had emerged. Emma had found herself speaking of her days at the orphanage, the children’s antics, and the small joys of her efforts there.

Evan had listened with an attentiveness she hadn’t anticipated, his interjections thoughtful rather than dismissive. Once or twice, he had even smiled—genuine, fleeting expressions that softened his otherwise austere demeanor. She couldn’t deny that these moments had left her unnerved, unsure of how to reconcile the man she had believed him to be with the one she was beginning to see.

Her slippered feet carried her to the library, its doors slightly ajar. Pushing them open, she stepped into the cavernous room, the faint scent of leather-bound tomes and the lingering traces of pipe smoke filling the air. Shelves lined the walls, reaching up toward the high ceiling. The fire in the hearth had burned low.

“You’re awake late.”

The deep voice startled her, causing her to fumble the book. She turned swiftly, clutching it to her chest, her heart racing for reasons beyond the sudden interruption.

Evan stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the flickering light of the hallway sconces. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted lightly with ink—a mark of the late hours he had been working.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, her voice soft as she sought to compose herself. “I thought I might find something to read.”

His gaze flicked to the book she held, and a faint, amused smile curved his lips. “A romance?” he asked, stepping into the room. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who indulges in such... fanciful tales.”

Emma straightened her posture, her chin tilting slightly upward. “They’re not fanciful,” she replied, a touch of defensiveness creeping into her tone. “Not entirely. They’re merely... pleasant distractions.”

“From what?” he asked, his tone as teasing as the glint in his eye.

“From reality,” she shot back, then regretted the honesty of her answer when his expression sobered.

“And here I thought you were the pragmatic sort,” he mused, his voice quieter now.

“I don’t believe in fairy tales or happily-ever-afters, if that’s what you mean,” she said, her fingers tightening on the book. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a good story.”

His brow arched. “You don’t believe in happy endings?”

“I don’t,” she said firmly, though the conviction in her voice wavered under his steady gaze.

Evan looked as though he might press further, but before he could, a clap of thunder rattled the windows, louder than any before. Emma gasped, stepping back instinctively as her fear overrode her pride. She found herself moving closer to Evan, as though seeking protection against the storm.

To her surprise, he reached for her, his arms wrapping around her with a steadying warmth that belied his typically aloof demeanor. “It’s just thunder,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe.”

The closeness left her breathless, her cheek brushing against the crisp linen of his shirt. She could feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat beneath her hand, the scent of him—something clean, like cedar and ink—wrapping around her senses. She should have stepped away, should have remembered every reason she distrusted him, but she didn’t.

Instead, she looked up, her gaze meeting his. His hand rose almost unconsciously, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. His touch was gentle, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Emma...” he began, his voice rough, the sound of her name on his lips sending a shiver through her. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, and for one reckless moment, she thought he might kiss her.

She stepped back abruptly, breaking the spell. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice unsteady. “Thunderstorms have always unnerved me.”

He watched her, his expression unreadable, but something in his eyes betrayed a softness she had not expected. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said, his voice low.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. She could feel the weight of his gaze as she turned away, clutching the book to her chest like a shield.

“I should go,” she said, her words clipped and hurried. “Thank you... for the reassurance.”

He inclined his head, though his eyes never left hers. “Goodnight, Emma.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, her voice barely audible as she fled the library.

As she returned to the solitude of her chambers, the book still clutched in her hands, Emma tried to make sense of the tumult of emotions swirling within her. Ophelia’s words surfaced again: He’s not the man you think he is.

And yet, what was he?

She couldn’t say. But the memory of his arms around her, his voice steadying her, lingered long after the storm had passed.