17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

A s the manor finally came into view, Evelyn felt a wave of relief wash over her. The sight of the grand house, with its sturdy stone walls and inviting windows, was a balm to her weary soul. Even from this distance, she could see the front door standing wide open, a beacon of warmth and safety.

Mrs. Turnbell, the housekeeper, stood at the threshold, waving the edge of her apron in a gesture of welcome. Evelyn's heart swelled with gratitude at the sight. The promise of warm tea and dry, clean clothing was such a relief that Evelyn felt renewed vigour as she walked.

She glanced at the Baron, wondering if he felt the same. His expression was inscrutable as always, but she thought she detected a hint of relief in the set of his shoulders. Perhaps he, too, was grateful for the sight of home.

The moment they reached the door, Mrs. Turnbell's eyes widened, taking in their bedraggled state. "Good heavens!" she exclaimed, then turned to shout into the house. "Mary! Fetch hot water for baths at once! Thomas, bring tea to the drawing room! And someone find dry clothes for Miss Bane!"

The house erupted into a flurry of activity, servants scurrying to and fro in response to Mrs. Turnbell's barked orders. Evelyn felt a rush of gratitude for the efficiency of the household staff.

Before she could fully process the commotion, a blur of movement caught her eye. Julia and Augusta came bounding down the stairs, their faces alight with relief and joy.

"Father! Miss Bane!" Julia cried, her voice trembling with emotion. "We were so worried!"

Augusta, usually more reserved, was close on her sister's heels. "What happened? Are you both all right?"

Evelyn felt a warmth bloom in her chest at the sight of the girls. Despite her exhaustion, she managed a smile. "We're quite all right, dears. Just a bit wet and muddy."

The Baron, to Evelyn's surprise, opened his arms to his daughters. They rushed into his embrace, and for a moment, Evelyn saw a softness in his expression that took her breath away. It was gone in an instant as he gently but firmly disentangled himself from the girls.

"Now, off you go," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Miss Bane and I need to get dry and warm. We'll explain everything later."

The girls nodded, casting one last concerned look at Evelyn before hurrying away. As they disappeared up the stairs, Evelyn felt a twinge of longing. How lovely it must be, she thought, to have such affection waiting for you at home.

Evelyn began to shrug off the Baron's jacket, her fingers fumbling from the cold. Before she could remove it, however, the Baron's hand shot out, gently catching her wrist.

"Keep it on until you get upstairs," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "My valet can retrieve it later."

Warmth bloomed in Evelyn's chest at this unexpected kindness. She offered him a small, grateful smile, feeling suddenly shy. "Thank you, my lord," she murmured, pulling the jacket closer around her shoulders.

Turning towards the grand staircase, Evelyn began to trudge upwards, her sodden skirts heavy and clinging around her legs. She had only managed a few steps when the Baron's voice stopped her abruptly.

"Miss Bane," he called, his tone oddly hesitant. "You were wrong, you know."

Evelyn froze, disbelief coursing through her. Surely he didn't want to argue at a moment like this? She turned back, an incredulous look on her face, ready to deliver a sharp retort.

To her surprise, the Baron's expression was not one of confrontation. Instead, he seemed to be fighting back a smile, his grey eyes twinkling with barely suppressed amusement.

"I never thought you were a damsel in distress," he said, his lips quirking upwards. "A distressing damsel, perhaps, but never one in distress."

Evelyn's mouth fell open in shock, her tired mind struggling to process this unexpected jest. For a moment, she simply stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Then, despite her exhaustion and the lingering tension of their near-disaster, she felt laughter bubbling up inside her.

***

J ames trudged up the stairs, his boots leaving a trail of muddy water in his wake. He pushed open the door to his dressing room, where Johnson, his valet, awaited him with an expression of barely concealed horror.

"My lord! You're soaked to the bone!"

James grunted in response, allowing Johnson to fuss over him as he peeled off his sodden coat. His mind whirled with the day's events, replaying the moment Evelyn had appeared on the crest of the hill, her hair wild and her eyes blazing with determination.

Johnson tutted as he wrestled with James's waterlogged boots. "What on earth possessed you to be out in such weather, my lord?"

James barely heard him. He was lost in the memory of Evelyn's voice, urgent and breathless as she warned him of the impending flood. The way she'd grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his sleeve as she pulled him to safety.

"My lord?" Johnson's voice cut through his reverie. "Are you quite all right?"

James blinked, realising he'd been staring blankly at the wall. "Yes, yes. Just... thinking."

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the image of Evelyn's face, flushed with exertion and rain. He'd never seen anyone look so... alive. So magnificent. The thought made him uncomfortable, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the dry clothes Johnson was now helping him into.

"I've never seen anything like it," he muttered, more to himself than to Johnson.

"Like what, my lord?"

James waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing. It's been a long day."

As Johnson continued to fuss over him, James found his thoughts drifting back to Evelyn. He'd underestimated her, he realised. She was made of sterner stuff than he'd given her credit for. The way she'd raced across the fields, heedless of the danger to herself...

He frowned, a strange mixture of admiration and unease settling in his stomach. It was... unsettling, this newfound respect for her. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

James paced his bedroom restlessly once he was safely in his quilted dressing gown. The fire had been made up and flickered warmly behind the screen. His mind kept returning to the image of Evelyn, hair plastered to her face, eyes wild with urgency as she'd warned him of the impending danger.

He'd been wrong about her. Damnably, infuriatingly wrong.

A wry smile tugged at his lips. If a pampered London lady could show such unexpected mettle, perhaps he ought to consider yielding a little himself. Clearly, Evelyn wasn't the weak, simpering woman he'd initially taken her for.

James paused by the window, gazing out at the rain-lashed grounds. There was more to her than met the eye, he was certain of it now. No ordinary governess would have risked life and limb as she had. But whatever secrets she might be harbouring, he found himself disinclined to pry. For now, at least.

A sudden thought struck him, and James felt the blood drain from his face. If not for Evelyn's actions, his daughters might well be orphans at this very moment. The realisation hit him like a physical blow, leaving him breathless.

He owed her a debt he could never hope to repay. The thought was unsettling, to say the least. James Ayles, Baron Hastings, was not a man accustomed to owing anyone anything.

And yet...

The magnitude of what might have been weighed heavily upon him. His girls, left alone in the world, just as he had been. The very idea sent a shudder through him.

James stood at the window, his reflection ghostly in the rain-streaked glass. The storm raged on, but his thoughts were consumed by the woman who had braved its fury to save him.

Evelyn. She was an enigma, this governess who had arrived on his doorstep with her London airs and seeming distaste for country life. Yet beneath that polished exterior lay a core of steel he hadn't anticipated. A woman who valued her independence, who wasn't afraid to speak her mind or take action when it mattered most.

He admired that about her, he realised with a start. It was a quality he hadn't encountered often in the women of his acquaintance, who were more concerned with social niceties and finding suitable matches. Evelyn was different. She had come here to make her own way in the world, to earn her own living. And now, she had saved his life without a moment's hesitation.

James's hands clenched at his sides. He owed her everything, and the weight of that debt sat uneasily upon his shoulders. As he watched the rain lash against the windowpane, a resolve began to form within him. He would find a way to repay her, no matter how long it took.

It wasn't just about settling a debt; it was about acknowledging the worth of a woman who had proven herself far more capable and courageous than he had ever given her credit for.

The question was, how? What could he possibly offer that would be commensurate with what she had done? Money seemed crass, a mere pittance in the face of such bravery. No, it would have to be something more meaningful, something that spoke to the independent spirit he now recognised in her.

James turned from the window, his mind whirling with possibilities. Whatever form his repayment took, he was determined to see it through. Evelyn deserved no less.