4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

T he wagonette jolted over another rut in the road, jarring Evelyn from her brooding thoughts. She winced, her discomfort now compounded by her wounded pride. As they rattled on towards her uncertain future, Evelyn couldn't help but wonder what other unpleasant surprises awaited her at the Baron's estate.

As they crested a small hill, the Baron's manor house suddenly came into view. Evelyn's eyes widened at the sight of the imposing structure, its grey stone walls rising up from the surrounding countryside.

She straightened her spine, preparing herself for the first glimpse of her new home. It was grand enough, but the western wing of the house was blackened and burnt. The sight of it made Evelyn's eyes widen.

To her surprise, the wagonette didn't veer towards the side of the house where she assumed the servants' entrance would be. Instead, it rolled to a stop directly in front of the grand front doors. Evelyn blinked in confusion, certain there must be some mistake.

The driver leapt down from his seat with unexpected agility, landing lightly on his feet. He patted the horse's flank affectionately before moving to collect her trunk from the back of the wagonette.

Evelyn remained perched on her seat, staring pointedly at the driver. She waited, expecting him to offer his hand to help her down as any proper servant would. But the man seemed oblivious to her expectation, focusing entirely on wrestling her trunk from the back of the vehicle.

Frustration bubbled up inside her. Was she to be subjected to one indignity after another? First, the muddy journey in this rickety conveyance, and now she was expected to scramble down on her own like some common farm girl?

Evelyn cleared her throat loudly, hoping to catch the driver's attention. He glanced up at her, his expression blank beneath the brim of his hat. She raised an eyebrow, silently willing him to understand his duty.

Still, he made no move to assist her. Evelyn's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She was a lady, for heaven's sake! How dare this uncouth man leave her stranded atop this wretched wagonette?

Evelyn's patience wore thin as she waited atop the wagonette. With a huff of exasperation, she gathered her skirts and began the precarious descent on her own. Her boots slipped on the muddy step, and she barely caught herself before tumbling ungracefully to the ground.

Heart pounding, Evelyn smoothed her rumpled dress and glared at the driver's back. Was this some sort of test? A way to gauge her mettle before presenting her to her new employer?

"I don't suppose the Baron will be greeting me himself?" she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "Or am I to wander the halls until I stumble upon him by chance?"

The driver paused in his efforts with her trunk, straightening slowly. For the first time, he lifted his chin, allowing Evelyn a clear view of his face. The scar she'd glimpsed earlier ran from his temple to his jaw, lending a fierce cast to his otherwise handsome features. His grey eyes met hers, sharp and penetrating.

"As a matter of fact, Miss Bane," he said, voice still gruff and unyielding, "the Baron has already met you."

Confusion clouded Evelyn's features as she tried to make sense of it. "I beg your pardon?"

Something unreadable passed over his eyes. "I am James Ayles, Baron Hastings. Welcome to the estate," he added as an afterthought.

Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face as the full impact of his words hit her. She refused to be cowed, though—she'd endured too much over the past year to let a simple embarrassment end her now. She tossed her head proudly, daringly meeting the Baron's eyes.

Evelyn watched, her mouth slightly agape, as the Baron effortlessly hoisted her trunk onto his broad shoulder. The mud caking the bottom of it seemed not to bother him in the slightest. Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of admiration for his raw strength and physicality.

Shaking herself from her momentary reverie, Evelyn gathered her wits and hurried after him as he strode towards the house. She had to quicken her pace to keep up with his long strides.

"My lord," she called, slightly breathless, "where are the footmen? Surely it's not proper for you to be carrying my trunk yourself."

The Baron didn't slow his pace, but he did turn his head slightly to address her. "All hands are needed for the spring planting. It can't wait, not with the weather we've had."

Evelyn's eyes flickered with confusion, her brows drawing together at this. It seemed utterly bizarre for a Baron to be doing manual labour, let alone concerning himself with the minutiae of farming. She opened her mouth to question this further but thought better of it.

As they neared the entrance, a new concern struck her. She hesitated, glancing back at the wagonette.

"But what about the horse?" she asked. "Won't it wander off if left unattended?"

The Baron paused at the foot of the steps, turning to face her fully. His grey eyes met hers, a hint of amusement flickering in their depths.

"No," he replied simply, before turning and continuing up the stairs.

Evelyn stood for a moment, stunned by the brevity of his response. She looked back at the horse, which indeed seemed content to stand exactly where it had been left, then hurried to catch up with the Baron once more.

Evelyn followed the Baron up the grand staircase, her bewilderment growing with each step. This was not at all how she'd imagined being shown to her quarters. The opulent surroundings seemed at odds with the mud-splattered man leading the way, her trunk still balanced effortlessly on his shoulder.

They passed several ornate doors before reaching the far end of the house. Evelyn's eyes widened as she realised they were approaching the blackened wing she'd spotted from outside. The Baron pushed open a door just shy of the charred section, revealing a modestly furnished room.

Without ceremony, he deposited her trunk on the floor with a solid thud. Evelyn opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, the Baron turned on his heel, clearly intending to leave without further ado.

He paused at the threshold, as if suddenly remembering something important. Slowly, he turned back to face her, his hand moving to the brim of his hat. Evelyn held her breath, unsure of what to expect.

As he removed his hat, Evelyn felt her heart skip a beat. The left side of his face was indeed handsome, with chiselled features that wouldn't have looked out of place on a classical statue. But the right side... a web of angry scars stretched from his temple to his jaw, evidence of a horrific burn.

Evelyn stood perfectly still, willing herself not to react. She met his gaze steadily, refusing to look away or show any sign of discomfort. The Baron's grey eyes studied her intently, searching for any hint of revulsion or pity.

Finding none, he inclined his head in a small bow. Without a word, he turned and strode from the room, leaving Evelyn alone with her thoughts and the echo of his retreating footsteps.

Evelyn sank onto the narrow brass bed, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been building throughout the day. The mattress creaked beneath her weight, a far cry from the plush comfort she'd grown accustomed to in London. She stared up at the ceiling, her mind whirling with the events of the past few hours.

What on Earth have I gotten myself into? she thought as she stared up at the plain white ceiling.