Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

"I know I am probably the last person you want to see now," Margaret said, "but there are some things you ought to know."

Evangeline was in her room on her bed when there was a knock at the door and Margaret entered, closing the door firmly behind her.

"No," Evangeline said, sitting up and hugging her pillow to her front. Her face was tight from crying. "Hugh is the last person I want to see right now."

"I see."

"But you are the second last. Why are you here? What explanation do you possibly think you can have that would explain why you all lied to my face for weeks ?"

Margaret sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked older than Evangeline could remember her being, but the thought didn't provoke any sympathy. If anything, her age and wisdom should have precluded her from being involved in something like this.

"When Hugh found out what George had done to Lily, he was furious," Margaret said. "I've never seen him fly into that kind of rage—no one dared be near him. Oh, not because he was violent, Evangeline. Don't think less of him. But because he wasn't himself. He was drinking, he was angry, and he was determined to make George pay by any means possible."

"And so, he lied about the death of his sister. What, because he thought George would care?"

His choice to lie about Lily's death was in part brought on by the fact she truly did almost die, and she lost the babe. It was a terrible time for us all. And Hugh promised her that she would not have to remain married to such a man."

Evangeline drew in a deep breath. All this, she could understand. Heavens knew she might have been tempted to do something similar to save Clara from a terrible marriage to a man she despised.

"But he married me," she said. "And then he lied to me."

"The deception was necessary at first. I know it hurts to hear, but Hugh didn't know how loyal you were to George—you were prepared to marry him, after all, and he was under no illusions about how you felt about the prospect of marrying him."

"I understood its necessity."

"You were reluctant, and lonely and isolated. Should he have done more in those early weeks to rectify that? Of course he should; that was his duty when he married you. But under the circumstances, I hope you can understand why he did not. His goal, as it has been since the day George betrayed them all, was to ensure his sister could live out her days without George."

"And how was he going to do that? Challenge George to a duel?" Evangeline shook her head. "I know George and he would never agree. He's never been called out in his life, and I doubt he would allow Hugh to do so, especially when I expect he understands that Hugh is a far better match. And angrier, to go with it."

"I don't know the full details of Hugh's plan," Margaret said. "But I do know that he intends to bankrupt George and force him from the country. Once he's gone, Lily can come out of hiding."

Evangeline understood the revenge—and knowing what George had done, she felt no sympathy for him. He had brought this on himself.

But there was still one point she didn't understand.

"In the beginning, I understand why he didn't confess the whole plan to me, especially if he thought I might be more loyal to George and my family than him."

In the beginning, perhaps, that might have been true, although once she had learned of his behavior she would never have been loyal to George. But so much had happened since she had first arrived here.

"Even you have commented on how I've settled in. I've done everything I can to be a good wife to Hugh, and this is how he repays me?"

Margaret shook her head. "I'm sorry, Evangeline."

"Everyone lied to me for so long."

"It's a delicate business, hiding a lady. Barely anyone knew the truth. Not even the servants. And you can't tell anyone the truth, Evangeline. Please, promise me that you won't."

Evangeline's lip curled. " I know how to keep a secret. All your worrying about whether I would uphold this plot of Hugh's—well let it not come into question now. I won't tell a soul that Lady Lily is still alive."

"Thank you," Margaret said, gratefully. "I know?—"

"But that doesn't mean I've forgiven any of you for the deception," Evangeline continued. "Please don't tell Hugh that I know."

Margaret hesitated, but whatever she saw in Evangeline's face made her nod. "I won't."

"Now, please leave."

Margaret rose to her feet and left the bedchamber, and Evangeline lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the marriage she had thought was so wonderful could have come to this.

* * *

Hugh returned to Eldermoor Castle within the week, exhausted from the travel. Evangeline greeted him with less than her usual enthusiasm, but he chalked it up to her irritation at his absence. Understandable, he supposed, after they had become so close, but he trusted that the next few days would repair the damage done.

At least, until he told her the truth. Duncan was right that it would have to be done sooner rather than later, and also right that he would have done anything to ensure he didn't lose her.

But there was nothing he could tell her save for the truth, and the truth was damning. All he could do was admit his other truth: that since entering his life, he had been increasingly unable to imagine it without her.

All he had to do now was work out the best time and words in which to tell her everything.

"I'm going on a hunt," he informed her the next morning at breakfast.

Hunting was one of the few things that cleared his head and gave him the opportunity to find peace within himself. Perhaps a relic from his past, but the reason mattered less than the result.

Evangeline took a sip from her tea. "Today?"

"Yes."

"I've always wanted to go hunting." Her voice was mild, but there was a spark in her eyes he hadn't seen in a while.

Challenge. And perhaps anger.

"It's dangerous," he said shortly. "We can spend time together when I'm back."

"Are you going all the way to Scotland?"

"No."

He hadn't been hunting in Scotland since his father's death. Logically, he knew it was no safer in the north of England than it was over the border, but logic did little to appease the lurch in his gut when he thought about it.

"Then I shall join you." She rose, the conversation apparently over in her mind. "Give me a moment to change into my riding clothes."

Hugh scowled, but his wife gave him no time to argue before she left the room.

Wonderful .

"Is there anything you would like me to do, sir?" the butler said, coming forward.

"No. Summon the huntsman and the hounds as you would."

"Yes, Your Grace."

No longer hungry, Hugh pushed back his plate. This was not how he had planned the day to go. But with no other recourse, he left the room and also changed into his hunting clothes.

When he returned downstairs, the hounds were swarming in the courtyard, and his horse was saddled. Evangeline's mare, too, was saddled and she was in the midst of the hounds, occasionally reaching out to pat one as she spoke with the master, the leader of the hunt.

Irritation coursed through Hugh as he approached them.

Evangeline turned her face to his as she said, sweetly, "you appeared to have forgotten to have my horse saddled, so I did it for you. And I have ensured that enough guns have been provided."

"You will not be shooting," he said shortly. "Handling a gun is no simple matter, and I don't have time to teach you."

"You aren't going to tell me that it's not the realm of ladies?"

"I think I know better than to tell you that something is not designed for your sex."

Still annoyed at having his peace disturbed, he returned to his horse and swung up on it easily. Evangeline watched with her head cocked before returning to her horse and using the wall to mount.

He ought to have handed her up. But he was still too frustrated at her to offer any kindness that might make this experience easier for her.

"Are you an experienced rider?" he asked.

"I've been on plenty of hunts before," she said. "My father lives in hunting country, you know."

"That means nothing."

"He enjoyed bringing ladies with him, and I often chose to go too. It was more interesting, leaving the house."

Damn her for making him care about the lonely, neglected childhood she'd endured when he wanted to be angry with her for invading his space.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh, don't be," she said in a light, airy tone he suspected concealed plenty of hurt. "We all have our problems, do we not? And we all have our secrets."

With that, she dug her heels into her horse's sides and began to trot down the road.

The master gave a command, and the hounds followed, swamping with whimpers of excitement at being released into the countryside. The two whippers-in-assistance followed, and Hugh was the last to leave the castle, his mind a confusing mix of emotions that he knew he would never be able to give leave to.

* * *

To Hugh's surprise, Evangeline kept her seat and was a better rider than he had expected. This wasn't a foxhunt exclusively—he enjoyed the challenge of many different aspects of a hunt—but he could certainly appreciate the way Evangeline handled her mount over the harsh countryside. Even when it came to crossing walls and fallen trees, she didn't hesitate before guiding her horse into a jump.

"You did well," he told her reluctantly as he came to trot by her side.

"I told you." The wind had flushed her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. "I've done this before."

" This did not necessarily include all the things we've done here."

"True. There are fewer hedges to jump on my father's estate." She looked at the country surrounding them. "But I enjoy the challenge."

"You always do," he muttered.

"And you? Do you enjoy challenges?"

"Naturally."

"Did your business in London go well?" She asked the question casually, but it felt as though there was weight resting on it that he didn't wholly understand.

"I think so, yes."

"Good." She urged her horse into a canter, breaking away from the group and crossing up the rise of a small hill to their right. Behind it, woodland fell away in a sharp stab of pines. This was not the cultivated land she was no doubt used to.

"Keep the hounds on track," Hugh said curtly to the master and wheeled his horse after Evangeline's.

His gun bounced against his back, and the wind cooled the sweat at the back of his neck.

He didn't know where the sense of overwhelming dread came from, but as he watched Evangeline's form ahead of him, he had the sudden knowledge that if he didn't act now, he may no longer have a wife to grow frustrated at.

They were neck and neck by the time they reached the top of the hill. Evangeline slid off her horse, not so much as looking at him as she strode to the steepest edge of the hill and gazed out over the land—from the rolling moorland to their left and the distant glint of the sea directly ahead of them.

Behind them both, from the woodland, there was a snort. An enraged squeal that Hugh had only ever heard once before in his life. The sound of rustling and pounding footsteps.

Evangeline turned, her face whitening, and he turned as though in slow motion, taking in the sight before him.

There, rampaging through the undergrowth, its eyes seeming red to him, was a large boar. Its head was lowered, its tusks pointed straight for Evangeline. Its little piggy eyes hadn't even registered Hugh was there, so focused was it on its prey.

Seconds. Hugh had seconds in which to act before the pig reached its target.

He drew the gun off his back in one smooth movement. Underneath him, his horse shied back, but he steadied it with his knees as he took aim.

One shot—if he missed or struck anywhere but a vital organ, the enraged animal would fight on.

He exhaled and pulled the trigger.