Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Evan

T he next morning, Evan stormed through his study, barely able to contain his fury. Jonathan sat in an armchair by the fire, observing his friend’s tightly clenched fists, the tense way he moved as though any moment he might overturn the nearest piece of furniture.

Jonathan cleared his throat. “Did you manage to speak with Ophelia after the fiasco?” he asked gently, though he could guess the answer from Evan’s grim expression.

Evan stopped, his eyes darkening. “No. I went to her family’s townhouse, but her parents refused to let me see her. It was humiliating,” he muttered. “But she managed to send a letter with one of the servants.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “A letter? What did it say?”

Evan let out a bitter sigh, pulling the folded note from his pocket. “She said she’s sorry for everything that happened and that she believes Lady Emma acted out of ‘concern,’ not malice.”

“Concern?” Jonathan repeated, frowning.

Evan laughed, the sound cold and sharp. “Yes, ‘concern.’ As if that justifies destroying everything I’ve worked for! She’s already suffered for it—Ophelia wrote that she’s lost not only me and the future we planned, but now she’s lost Massimo as well. She can’t be with him, not anymore.”

“Massimo…” Jonathan trailed off, trying to recall. “That was…?”

“Her lover in Venice. A wine merchant.” Evan’s voice grew heavier with frustration. “She loves him—enough to defy her family, enough to live with him in secret if necessary. The plan was that once she and I were wed, I would arrange for Massimo to come to England and work on the estate as a winemaker. They could have had a life together—discreet, hidden from prying eyes. Ophelia was to have lived with him in a cottage on my estate, away from society’s scrutiny. But thanks to Lady Emma’s interference, that is well and truly ruined.”

Jonathan’s expression softened. “So you’d both have had the freedom you wanted.”

“Precisely,” Evan said, his jaw tightening. “Ophelia would have been able to live a semblance of the life she wanted with the man she loved, and I would have avoided this endless parade of fortune-hunters and social climbers, demanding a ‘true marriage’ I could never give.”

Jonathan was silent for a moment, taking it all in. “Then she’s truly lost everything because of Lady Emma’s intervention.”

Evan clenched his fists, his gaze turning fierce. “Exactly. Ophelia and I had an understanding—one that would have worked beautifully, if only Lady Emma hadn’t meddled. Instead, she has left Ophelia devastated, left me humiliated, and destroyed any hope we had of maintaining the lives we actually wanted.”

Jonathan shifted, uneasy. “Perhaps Lady Emma truly thought she was helping. I mean, consider it from her perspective?—”

Evan cut him off with a scoff. “Helping?” His eyes flashed with anger. “She didn’t help anyone. She barged into my life without understanding anything about it and decided, on her own, that I was nothing but a scoundrel unworthy of Ophelia. She cast herself as the heroine, as if Ophelia needed rescuing. But all she’s done is leave us with nothing.”

Jonathan opened his mouth to argue, but Evan pressed on, his voice trembling with controlled rage. “You know, she has cost me months of planning, months of evading society’s demands on me. And for what? Because she didn’t bother to question what she overheard? Because she believed I was some heartless brute who would imprison a woman in marriage?”

“She was mistaken,” Jonathan said, trying to inject some calm. “But Lady Emma’s reputation… It is not a good one, I’ll give you that. Perhaps she thought you were just like her father.”

“Of course she did. No one ever bothers to look past a rumor in this society, do they?” Evan’s tone dripped with contempt. “And now, my carefully cultivated freedom, my ability to live on my own terms, has been shattered by a self-righteous busybody who clearly doesn’t understand that not every marriage must fit her limited, sentimental ideas.”

Jonathan regarded him with a mixture of sympathy and caution. “Evan, I understand you’re angry, but… what are you planning to do about it?”

Evan’s gaze turned hard, resolved. “She’ll marry me.”

Jonathan blinked, momentarily stunned. “Marry you?”

“Yes,” Evan replied, his voice as cold as ice. “She’s left me with little choice. She wanted to ruin my future, but now she’s just secured her own. I will find a way to make her my wife.” He straightened, his expression set. “And I don’t care what it takes.”

At that moment, a footman entered the room, bowing and holding a small stack of freshly delivered papers. “Your Grace, the morning’s papers.”

“Ah,” Jonathan said, taking the top paper and glancing at the headlines. He raised his brows, a hint of amusement mixing with surprise. “Well, it seems you’re not the only one discussing yesterday’s… events.” He handed the paper to Evan.

Evan’s eyes fell on the headline, a sardonic smile twisting his mouth as he read:

St. George’s Wedding of the Year ruined by mystery letter writer!

The long-anticipated wedding of the Duke of W. to the recently returned Lady O. was scandalously stopped by the bride’s father when the Duke of W.’s shocking past dalliance were exposed to the unwitting bride’s family. How did these accusations come to light? It seems a mysterious letter brought the truth to light, ending the event.

It is rumored that the identity of the letter-writer is none other than the spirited daughter of a certain Earl who currently resides in Newgate. Could it be that her family’s reputation spurred her meddling actions, or is there some other purpose behind this sudden and dramatic disruption?

Evan let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Well, well. It seems I don’t need to lift a finger. The rumor mill is already doing my work for me. Lady Emma’s name will be on every tongue by the week’s end, her actions thoroughly dissected. And given her family’s tarnished reputation…” He looked up at Jonathan, his eyes gleaming. “She may find that she has no choice but to accept my proposal. Her family’s good name—such as it is—will demand it.”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed, his gaze turning concerned. “Evan… forcing her into marriage might seem like justice now, but what kind of future will that build?”

“A future that ensures she’ll pay for what she did,” Evan replied, his voice firm. “She made her choice when she decided to play the hero and interfere. She’ll face the consequences in the one way that’s left to her.”

Jonathan sighed, realizing that nothing he said would dissuade his friend. “Then let’s hope, for both your sakes, that she realizes her fate before she’s at the altar.”

Evan only smiled, resolute.