Chapter 25

CHAPTER25

"Tell me something about yourself."

Evan smiled as he played with a lock of rich chocolate hair, admiring the way the candlelight made it seem like it was molten gold in his hands.

"Hmm... what do you want to know?"

He felt her snuggle into his side, her nose burrowing into his chest. It made her seem like a kitten seeking warmth, and the thought made him smile all the more. A kitten she might be, but one must never overlook the fact that she had claws.

And teeth.

"Oh... you tell me what you want to tell me," she murmured. "I just want to know more about you."

In truth, Evan had never indulged in post-coital conversation the likes of which he was having now. What use was it to him when he had no intention of getting to know a woman beyond the few hours of physical release they sought in each other?

With Amy, he was discovering more and more of the things that he had never thought to do with anyone else—only her.

"Would you like to know about my childhood, then?" he chuckled.

"If it pleases you to tell me, then yes. Yes, I do."

Talking about his childhood was never pleasant for Evan, for he spent most of it on tenterhooks, wondering what punishments his father was going to mete out to him. His only consolation had been his mother—she had been the only one to treat him with kindness, but even she could not endure the abuse his father carried out.

For many nights when he had grown into a young man, he had often wondered if things would have been different if he had stood up to his father to defend his own mother. Would his mother have found the strength to carry on living instead of fading away in despair?

"I... miss my mother," he admitted softly. "She died when I was only two years old. The physician had warned her that her health would not be able to sustain another pregnancy. She lived only long enough to give birth to my younger brother."

Why was he telling her this? The whole ton knew of the tragic death of the Duchess of Leonbridge—a beautiful young woman who passed away before she was even three decades of age. Still, she had been lauded for fulfilling her duty to her husband by bearing him two fine sons.

They never discussed how her sons would have preferred to have her alive.

"Do you blame your father for it?" she asked him softly.

He stiffened, his hand hovering midair as he made to caress the side of her cheek.

Did he blame his father? Of course, he did. He resented the man for most of his life and vowed he was never going to be like him. He had lived in fear of becoming something like him.

"For a long time, I did. I also blamed myself."

"Why?" Amy asked, pulling herself up to face him. "Your mother died when you were only two years of age. You were just a child."

He smiled and reached out to cup the side of her face. "And you are correct in that, my sweet, but grief is rarely logical, is it not?"

She pursed her lips and looked away. "I suppose you are right."

"My father...he was not a very patient man," he sighed. "He viewed emotions as a weakness. He saw women as mere vessels meant to carry heirs."

"He does not sound like a particularly nice fellow," she muttered, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

He had to agree with her on that. "He was a horrible man. You would have hated him."

"And yet, you are so unlike him," she smiled. "So, I suppose that he did do some good in this world."

He let out a sharp bark of laughter. Gently, he tapped her nose and said, "You are a very biased woman, my sweet. If you went on like this, nobody would ever believe a word you say in the future."

"Well, even if I went about saying such things, Society will have much better words to say about you. You are the most eligible bachelor, after all."

"What about you? Do you agree with them?"

She smiled jauntily up at him. "I will only agree with the things which I have seen evidence of."

"And what evidence have you gathered so far about me?"

"Hmm... so far, you are a good enough dancer, a fine enough horseman, and conversation with you can be tolerable."

He noted that she made no mention of his wealth or titles which would have been the primary consideration for a lady of Society to choose a husband.

"You also treat me with endless patience and kindness," she continued. "So much so that if I had not been privy to the mischief you had been up to before me, I would have thought you a saint." She paused and added, "In fact, Esther seems to think that you must have suffered for putting up with me."

"You mean, after all the crazy things you put me through?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Will my sins follow me to the grave, Your Grace? I thought I had already told you to forget our foolish past."

"How could I?" he murmured. "When everything about you fascinates me so? Whether it was you giving me a verbal lashing, or stomping on my toes, I value them all."

Amy giggled at that. "Who would have thought that a gentleman such as yourself would like being tormented so?"

"It was not so much as suffering such torment, but that it was all worth it because I gained your trust," he told her with a soft smile. "Before you, I did not even consider that I would ever be able to relinquish the dark thoughts that have haunted me."

"What dark thoughts?"

"That I was going to end up like my father," he admitted somberly. "That I was only going to make the woman I married as unhappy as my mother had been in her own marriage."

She reached out and turned his face towards her so that Evan was staring into her beautiful green eyes. In them, he saw hope and redemption as well as a faith he did not quite believe he deserved.

"My dear Duke," she murmured with a gentle smile, "the fact alone that you are afraid to become someone like your father makes you the furthest thing from him. You are not your father, Evan, and he would never be as great a man as you are."

He smiled a little at that, feeling his soul become lighter the more time he spent in her presence. "How can you say that?"

"Well, your sire has long been dead and buried, and he did not even accomplished half of what you have already accomplished," she replied fervently. "So there, I shall not countenance any doubt on your abilities and greatness. Or are you going to say that I have chosen wrongly?"

She had a remarkable ability of turning a conversation around in her favor.

"How can I go against such logic?" he chuckled. "If you believe in me so much, then I must have done some truly wonderful things in this life."

"Of course, you have. And you are going to do a great deal more!"

He leaned into her and captured her lips in a brief kiss. "With you by my side, I daresay I shall be able to achieve even greater things in the future."

She beamed up at him and snuggled closer to his side. Moments later, a soft yawn escaped her, prompting Evan to draw her closer to his side. Already, he felt himself stirring once more for her, but he could put his desires aside for a while. After all, she must have been tired after all the exertion they had put forth earlier.

"Evan?"

"Hmm?"

"Remember what you said earlier? About grief defying logic?" she murmured sleepily.

"Yes, I remember that."

"I... For the longest time, I thought I was abomination," she admitted softly. "I never cried after my mother died. I tried to... I thought that it was the proper way to mourn her, but I was never able to."

He sighed and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "My sweet, we all grieve differently. Just because you were unable to shed tears does not mean that your heart did not suffer her loss."

"I thought that I must be such a cold and ungrateful child," she told him. "And even after Lord Clarence broke off our engagement, I was unable to shed a tear—not that I would have wanted to. But he told me that it was evidence of just how cold and unfeeling I was."

Evan felt a potent rage at the thought of that cretin. He had not been smart enough or man enough to be able to marry Amy, and yet, he still saw fit to ruin such a good thing. The man was clearly an imbecile who thought himself overly smart.

"Why are we talking about Andrew Clarence when you are lying naked in my arms in my bed?" he growled, nipping playfully at her ear.

Amy giggled and poked a finger into his muscular chest. "Well, he was the one who verbalized what I had been thinking all along."

"My sweet, you should have known better than to take the words of an idiot like Andrew Clarence to heart," he admonished her sternly. "How could you let a man of such low intellect cloud your judgment about yourself?"

She rolled her eyes in a way no other lady would have done in his presence. "And you say that I am the biased one."

Evan scoffed at that. "Amongst the inner circles of the ton, we do not have a very high opinion of Andrew Clarence. He is a pompous ass and nothing more. You, my sweet, narrowly avoided the greatest mistake of your life."

She laughed at that and poked him again. "Are you just saying that because of me?"

"No. Andrew Clarence already has an established reputation amongst us men. You can even ask Benedict if you like. He would have decked that man once or twice already if he had thought it was worth half the effort it took."

"That is rather peculiar," she mused. "I was under the impression that he was well-liked amongst the gentlemen. Even Lady Helena claims that he is."

"Of course, Lady Helena would never admit that she erred greatly in her choice of a husband."

Amy finally burst out laughing at that. She laid her head on his chest and with sham solemnity said, "I suppose that one is loath to admit that one made a grave mistake in choosing a matrimonial partner. But how would I know that? The man I am choosing to marry is—by all accounts—a paragon of gentlemanly attributes."

"And pray tell, what are these gentlemanly attributes you speak of, my sweet Amy?"

"Why, he must have an income capable of maintaining the life I have been accustomed to," she enumerated with a coquettish flutter of her lashes. "He must also have a title that is no less than that of my father. Also, he must be exceedingly kind and generous, providing me with a suitable allowance that I may spend to my heart’s desire on jewels, dresses, and the like."

Evan let out a sharp bark of laughter and held her close. "I shall endeavor to maintain an income worthy of you, my sweet."

"I shall expect no less of you, Your Grace."

"Now that we have that settled," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, "why don’t you sleep for a bit before I think up of a way to return you to Irington Estate without the whole ton learning about it?"

"Oh?" She batted her eyelashes at him once more, tracing lazy patterns on his bare chest in a way that had him fighting the urge to pin her down on the bed once more. "I was under the impression that we were going to have a long night ahead of us..."

"Amy," he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. "You are going to be the death of me."

"Oh, I do hope not," she quipped cheerfully. "I was hoping to spend a long life with you. Remember, I have already prepared names for our children—meaning that you have agreed that we are going to have more than one offspring. I cannot have your children if you meet your untimely demise…"

Life, Evan decided, has just gotten better now that I have her by my side.

As he looked at her affectionately, he supposed that this wonderful young woman could rest her cares, for he intended to live a long and happy life with her as well...