Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"S it," Lily said, pouring herself some tea. "You look dreadful."

It took Hugh waking up still drunk in his study to know that this way of life could not continue. It also took seeing Lily in the breakfast room, seated in her usual chair as though no time had passed at all, to shake some sense into him.

He was losing himself.

He eased himself into a seat and motioned to one of the footmen lining the walls. "Coffee," he said and directed his gaze at Lily. "What are you doing here?"

"Margaret told me George had left the country, and so now I am here. The servants all know." She said the words serenely, but he had seen her the day she had lost her child.

Past all the blood—so much blood, he would never forget the sight—she had been sobbing. Huge, guttural, heart-wrenching sobs, as she cradled the infant who had never taken his first breath.

Now, she looked as though none of it had happened, but it had. Scarred on each of their souls.

"I am sorry." He said the words heavily, letting her feel their full weight. "For ever making you marry that man. When I found he had left you with child—I thought it was the best option. But I was wrong. Forgive me."

"I do," she said simply. "I forgive you for all the choices you have made on my behalf, whether they were right or wrong—because you thought you were doing the right thing."

His head hung low. "I always try to do the right thing, Lily."

"I know. And that's why Evangeline can forgive you, too."

His head snapped back up, and he looked at her. "You don't know that. She left me."

"She was hurt. I know the feeling. Intimately." She set her knife down and leveled him with a glare. "But George hurt me time and time again and couldn't have cared less whether I forgave him. But you—you know that things are different between you and Evangeline. She would not be so hurt if she didn't care, and you would not be drinking so much if you did not."

She raised a challenging brow, but there was nothing in her statement that he could challenge. It was true, all of it.

And he was a fool.

"Go to London," she said. "Tell her you're sorry, and that you love her—because if this isn't love, then I know nothing about it. And when she forgives you, because she will, bring her back to the castle so I can meet her properly. I think we will be friends."

Hugh watched his younger sister sip her tea as a steaming cup of coffee was placed before him and wondered when it was she had become so wise.

* * *

It was ironic really that he had never been to Evangeline's parents' house. Courting had never been part of their relationship, although in retrospect, perhaps it should have been.

He ought to have gone about everything differently.

"I'm here to see the Duchess of Eldermoor," he said when an elderly butler opened the door.

The butler's face barely changed, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I'm afraid she's not in, Your Grace."

"She's not in, or she won't see me?"

"I'm afraid it's not my place to say, sir."

Of course, she was denying him after everything—he could hardly blame her for that.

But he couldn't accept it, either.

"I'm going to see her," he said, keeping his voice quiet. "Whether I have to break down this door myself. She is my wife, and she will not deny me."

The butler, perhaps identifying the resolve in Hugh's face, stepped back from the door. "Perhaps Lord Bramwell can help you with the situation."

"It's not him I'm here to see," Hugh said calmly, stepping inside the house.

Instantly, he recognized the trappings of new wealth. New paintings adorned the walls, new vases, and even the wallpaper was fresh. Yet underneath, in the worn wooden floors and old windowpanes, he could see evidence of the hardship they had seen.

Evangeline, if she was anywhere, would be upstairs.

He would not allow her to turn him away. Even if he had to come back again and again, he would not allow her to turn him away. Something had happened after she had left—a certain emptiness inside him, the lack of gratification over his revenge finally coming true, that had shaken him to the core.

His priorities, which he had thought set in stone, had shifted.

Lily had told him everyone deserved happiness. That was true for Evangeline, too, and he would do all he could to ensure that she found that happiness.

With him. Exclusively. Even if it killed him, he would find a way for her to find that happiness with him.

She was upstairs in what had probably once been a schoolroom and was now a place for the two sisters to sit and read or embroider. Evangeline was there on her own, her face whitening when she saw him.

"Evangeline." Her name fell from his lips. "You tried to turn me away."

"What are you?—?"

"I will not be denied. If you decide you can live without me, Evangeline, you will tell me to my face." He strode to stand before her, then knelt, taking her hand in his. "But first, you must know that I am a man ruined. I'd thought my heart impervious, and my purpose set, but that was before I met you. All this time you've been gone, I've been telling myself that our arrangement was purely convenience, but that was a lie."

Her eyes widened; her breath caught. Her fingers tightened in his, but she didn't pull away.

"When we first married, I did so largely out of my desire for revenge. And I kept the truth about my sister from you because I didn't trust you. Then, it was because I knew how foolish I had been to ever think that I couldn't trust you. Simply put, I was afraid—and the emotion was so alien." He gave a bitter laugh.

"How could I, a man who prided myself on my power and restraint, be so undone? But so it was. Having you by my side taught me what it was to live , and every second you've been gone has been agony. I don't want this distance between us. I want you to be my wife, in every sense of the word."

Mine . The feeling was so primal he could hardly help himself from whispering it under his breath. She was his—she had always been his. He needed her.

"You…" Evangeline swallowed, and he had to resist the urge to reach out to her. "You want me back?"

"I never wanted you to leave."

Finally, he did move, running his fingers along her cheek.

He, remote and cold as the mountains in which he had been brought up in, had been softened like butter to a flame for her, and he couldn't bring himself to regret a moment of it.

"I miss you, Evangeline. And I'm so sorry for all the ways in which I hurt you. Can you forgive me?"

She drew in a sharp breath. "I didn't think you would ever come for me."

"There was not a world in which I would not. I am sorry it took me so long."

Her eyes met his, and they were unflinchingly honest. "I'm scared of what this would mean if I agreed."

Oh, she was not the only one. This was new for him, too, and he was just as scared. More than he thought, sometimes. Because she no doubt thought it normal for her to love her husband, but he had never intended to love his wife.

"I love you," he said, finally giving way to the words that had been building in his chest. "The rest… we'll work out together."

It took her several seconds to speak, and when she did, her eyes welled with tears. "Oh, Hugh. I never thought?—"

"Come here."

He drew her into his arms, and when her lips met his, it was with just as much enthusiasm as with which he had kissed her. The feel of her mouth against his was like coming home, and his body stirred under hers, demanding more.

But not here. Never here.

He raised his head and kissed her again. "So, will you come back with me? Home?"

The word had a new meaning now it included her.

"Of course." Her words were jumbled. "Yes, Hugh. Yes, of course, I will come with you. But my parents?—"

"I will thank them for taking such good care of my wife, and leave them to their posturing," he promised. "And if it would ease your mind, we can invite your sister to stay."

"My sister may have a husband before too long."

He stared. That had been fast—though then again, he had never been one for a traditional method. Perhaps this wasn't so quick after all.

"A love match?"

"I believe so."

"Then we'll invite both of them. How do you like the sound of that?"

She flung her arms around his neck, and it was a relief to hold her again. "I think it sounds wonderful ."

* * *

Hugh was truly masterful at getting her away. After sending her maid to pack for her, he then turned his attention to her family, greeting them politely and listening to their entreaties that he stay—just for a day or two, they had a dinner they would so like for him to attend—then declining them with just as much fervor. He had business that called him north, and he would be taking his wife and departing with immediate effect.

As he did so, Evangeline pulled Clara aside. "He says he loves me," she whispered, feeling her eyes stinging all over again. "I can't say I've forgiven him everything , but I believe that much, and if he loves me, then we can make the rest work."

Clara squeezed her hand and pulled her into an impulsive embrace. "I'm so happy for you!"

"I'm happy for me, too. I hope you can one day be this happy in marriage."

"If Lord Leighton offers for me, I think I might be."

"Then I hope he doesn't delay."

Clara blushed. "As do I."

And then Evangeline and Hugh were off.

So much about this carriage ride was like the one they had experienced before when they had first married, but so much was different. Hugh asked her questions about her time in London—what her time had been like, how her parents had treated her. She told him about the argument she'd had with her parents when she had told them precisely what for—something she had once thought she would never tell him.

But so little of her life was as she thought it would be. So little of their relationship was as she thought it would be. And she was so relieved it was this and not something else.

"It seems I arrived just in time, then," he said, toying with his shirt cuffs.

Evangeline ducked her head. "For all they were angry at me for all the things I said, I don't think they would have thrown me out. For a start, it would have been across town that I had abruptly left their household, and whatever the state of our marriage, they would have wanted to flaunt me for as long and as far as they could."

His face tightened. "What did you tell them?"

"Oh, nothing intentionally. I was merely telling my sister that we'd had a… disagreement. My mother overheard and was furious at me for ruining their chances to capitalize off their association with a duke. I suppose now you've come for me, though you didn't stay for dinner, they'll be delighted that we're back on good terms again. Or at least that I'm back to living with you.

"Though I'm certain they'll spin a story around the circumstances, so it won't seem as though I ran away, and you came to collect your errant wife." She chuckled. "I suppose that's how it is."

"A little, I suppose," he said with a wry smile. "Although I think it's more a case of my groveling for your forgiveness."

"Something you no doubt never thought you would be doing."

"Never." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his lips lingering even across her gloves until her entire body went hot. "But I regret nothing, Evangeline."

"Not even the secrets?" she teased.

"I regret keeping those from you. But Lily's safety was my primary concern, and I don't regret hiding her existence from the world, at least until Sandhurst has left the country, which I believe to be any day now."

"I don't wish you had forced her to remain married to George," Evangeline murmured. "No one deserves that fate."

"I am a lucky man indeed to have such an understanding wife."

"And I am a fortunate woman to have a husband so willing to apologize."

His eyes sparked with amusement, and Evangeline sucked in a breath at the promise in them.

Not long now until they reached an inn, and she hoped—she hoped —it would be a very different experience from their first time.