Chapter Seventeen

Evie responded more or less as Alex had feared. The word stay , so small but difficult to utter and spoken so quietly, filled the room. Thunderous silence was her only answer.

"Say something."

Her lips parted infinitesimally a split second before she spun on her heel and marched from the room. He followed, a sense of inevitability weighing his steps.

In the bedroom, she stood with her back to him, struggling into her heavy black skirt.

"Evie."

She turned in the process of hooking the front of her bodice closed, but she didn't look at him. No doubt she told herself she was focusing on the fastenings, but there was something furtive in the way her eyes never even flickered in his direction. "You know I can't."

He knew nothing of the sort. "I'll deal with Nightingale."

"It makes no difference. I won't stay with you."

Not can't; won't. The difference between those two small words was vast. His chest tightened painfully. "Why not?"

"What will become of me when it's over?" A simple question asked with no evident emotion.

Alex didn't let that deter him from crossing the room until they stood toe to toe. Slowly, so that she had every chance to turn away or deflect him, he reached out and tilted her chin up so he could see her face. Her eyes flashed defiance. When didn't they? Her lips were thinner than he'd ever seen them, pressed together to suppress whatever she was feeling.

"We've barely begun," he told her. "How can you talk about the end?" If he had his way, they never would. He was hers now.

"I think about it because I must."

"I'm not going to abandon you, Evie."

"No?" She jerked her chin away. "You mean to marry me? Make me your duchess?"

They both knew he couldn't. What she'd never believe was how much he wanted to. God, she'd make a magnificent duchess. She was a chameleon. No role was beyond her. Even if society would never accept her, she'd play the duchess to the hilt. The idea of marrying her, of being with this difficult, bloody-minded enigma for the rest of his days… The very thought made him feel awake. Alive. When he was with her, the rush of life in his veins was almost too much to bear. He saw everything with new eyes. He felt .

But the houses would crumble around them. The estates would need to be sold. His dependents would suffer for his selfishness. He would go down in history as the Duke of Harcastle who lost everything. The chain, of which he was but a single link, would be broken, the empty title he passed on little better than a joke.

Evie searched his face. "I didn't think so."

"We both know I can't marry you," he said, "but we can still be together."

"We could. If you promise never to marry anyone else."

Even though they both knew the answer to that too, she allowed the silence to lengthen; he hated her a little for that.

"Do you understand how many people would suffer if my lands and holdings were sold off? There's no way to ensure the livelihoods of my tenants and workers. I can't allow it all to fall into ruin!" He was shouting, he realized. He never shouted. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"You need money, Alex. I understand that better than anyone. I'm not blaming you. I admire you. But I won't be the dirty secret you hide from your wife."

"It needn't be like that. I don't have to be dishonest. There are women who'd willingly exchange a fortune for a title, women who wouldn't expect affection or fidelity."

"And if you find one? Unless you expect this poor woman to live like a nun, you'll need a legitimate heir in the nursery before she can go her own way."

She was right. He wouldn't expect his wife to wait faithfully at home while he lived with Evie, but he couldn't disinherit Ellis with a child he knew wasn't his.

Evie must have read his response in his expression because she asked him, "Could you stand by while I married and bedded another man?"

"The thought turns my stomach." He seized hold of her, his hands tightening on her upper arms. "But if it meant you could stay…"

"I'm sorry, Alex. The life you're offering me would make me miserable. I won't do that to myself. Not even for you." There were no tears in her eyes. No tremor in her voice. No uncertainty. She meant this. He saw no way to move her. No weakness to exploit.

Even if he'd seen his way forward, he believed what she said. He couldn't make her happy. And if he couldn't do that, he should let her go. Did he love her enough to do that?

"Evie—"

Three raps at the door, then Helen's voice from the other side. "Alex, I'm sorry. It's important."

Evie opened the door. He didn't stop her, even though he was still in his dressing gown.

Helen's face was paper white. "A man matching Nightingale's description arrived in Stoneman's Bay this morning and put up at the Bilge and Barnacle."

His gaze locked with Evie's. For the first time since he'd asked her to stay, he saw a crack in the wall she'd thrown up.

Too soon , her look said. We haven't had enough time.

No, they hadn't. And now they never would.

"Give us a moment," he said to Helen.

"Oh God," Evie whispered when they were alone again.

"I'll make sure Ellis gives you the money today."

"Thank you."

He wanted her to put her arms around him, but he knew she wouldn't. Not once, in all this time, had she been the one to reach for him. But when he pulled her into his arms, she immediately melted against him, fitting snuggly against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. It was almost enough.

"I'll go to the village with Ellis. Promise me you won't leave before I get back. Remember, it might not even be him."

She nodded, an awkward bobbing against his neck.

"Promise me, Evie."

"I promise."

Was she the sort of woman who kept her vows? He was about to find out.

∞∞∞

Dark clouds glowered overhead as Alex, with Ellis at his side, left the cliff path and took the winding road into Stoneman's Bay.

The tiny fishing village nestled on a steep hill between two towering cliffs. On the eastern edge, a wide beck flowed down to the harbor. They followed its path toward the shore, passing fishwives sitting on their doorsteps mending nets or heading down to the beach in their double-crowned bonnets and aprons to collect mussels. Later they'd carry home what they'd gathered in baskets balanced on their heads. The menfolk would be out in their cobles—flat-bottomed fishing boats—though judging by that ominous sky, they wouldn't linger long on the water today.

The Bilge and Barnacle was a large brick building overlooking the harbor. It stood so close to the water that, on rough days, the waves crashing over the sea wall forced everyone, commoner or king, to use the tradesman's entrance or risk a soaking.

They were several yards away when Ellis stopped walking. "I still think you should have stayed at the house.

I know what Nightingale looks like. You don't need to be here."

"I need to see for myself."

"What should we do now? Walk in and ask for Nightingale by name?"

"Abernathy. The man staying here who matches

Nightingale's description is named Abernathy."

"You're hoping it won't be him."

"Naturally." If it wasn't Nightingale, Evie might stay longer.

"Why not get the thing over with?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." The implication being that Ellis lacked the capacity for deep emotion? It wasn't the sort of remark Alex usually made and he already saw the injustice of it. Ellis never seemed to miss his wife and he never talked about her, but then Alex never asked. They weren't close that way. They didn't talk about their feelings.

"I meant, why not get the confrontation with Nightingale over with. I would never presume to—" Ellis frowned at his feet.

Alex waited for him to continue but whatever he'd been about to say had been caught by that filter of good manners the man hid behind. For the first time, it bothered Alex that he'd never troubled to get to know him properly. They were cousins, after all.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked.

Ellis didn't deflect the question as Alex half expected. "Of course I—" He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "In the circumstances, you deserve a truthful answer. Yes, I've been in love, and I know what it is to want an unobtainable woman. To burn with the wanting."

Alex didn't even attempt to mask his shock. He'd heard the pain and yearning in Ellis's voice. A depth of feeling of which he hadn't thought him capable. He wanted to ask who she was because it couldn't be Charlotte. Surely "unobtainable" wasn't a word that applied to a man's wife? Unless Charlotte loved someone else. Then the distance, both physical and emotional, between the Ellises began to make sense. All baseless speculation, but even though Alex knew none of the details, he recognized the look on Ellis's face. Evie had been right; there was more to his cousin than met the eye. "I had no idea."

"I wish I could tell you it gets easier as the years pass, but…" Ellis shrugged.

"I wouldn't believe you anyway."

"We should go in." Ellis directed his gaze at the Bilge and Barnacle, clearly embarrassed by his recent disclosure.

Alex was content to let the subject drop for now. He'd left Evie packing her few possessions. Even though she'd promised she'd still be there when he returned, he wouldn't put it past her to bolt. The quicker he got this over with, the quicker he'd be back with her. The sooner he'd know.

"You gave her the money?"

Ellis didn't need to ask who. "Of course."

Naturally, it had occurred to Alex that he could delay giving her the money until he returned. She was too practical to leave with nothing. If she was thinking clearly. After what she'd been through lately, he wasn't sure she was. At least this way she'd be financially secure if she ran. "Come on."

The inn door was never locked at this hour since the guests needed to move freely, so he knocked sharply twice before immediately entering. The innkeeper rushed over the moment he clapped eyes on them. Yes, Mr. Abernathy was staying there. He was eating breakfast. Yes, the innkeeper would be happy to point him out to His Grace.

They followed the proprietor into the public dining room where several people were sitting down with steaming bowls of porridge. "The gentleman by the window, Your Grace."

Alone at a small table sat a man of about forty. Bearded, saturnine, well-favored—he fit the description. But he wasn't Nightingale.

Alex didn't know how to feel.

Evie might stay longer now, but Ellis was right. Alex wanted this thing with Nightingale resolved. When he had reported him to the authorities in London, he'd been fully aware that Nightingale hadn't actually done anything illegal yet. As he'd expected, the police had promised to " have a word " with the man. Beyond that, they were powerless. To Alex, Nightingale had been an annoyance. A fly buzzing around, irritating but harmless. Nightingale couldn't hurt him, not really.

Unless it was through the woman he loved.

Alex didn't care about threats to himself, but Nightingale had made a big mistake when he threatened Evie. It was time—long past time—for Alex to take matters into his own hands.

∞∞∞

The grounds of Stoney Hey were beautiful even in this miserable November weather. Evie had spent the time of Alex's absence learning them. A stone path led through the dormant rose garden at the front of the house and wound behind the manor, forking right to more gardens, or straight ahead to the top of steps that took you down to the cliff path. The same way Alex had gone with Mr. Ellis.Earlier, she'd run along it to the road, all the time afraid that she might meet them coming the other way. Alex would think she was running when all she intended was to know the lay of the land. Once she reached the edge of the village and saw the sign pointing to the train station, she ran back again, all the way to the bottom step where she now stood panting.

The wind whipped her skirts as she gazed out to the horizon. The black and purple of a bruised sky bled into the sea—a distant rainstorm, but it would be here soon enough. The North Sea itself was a great, gray wall confining her. She was small, insignificant, but she'd always known that. Everyone was when you got right down to it. Even Alex couldn't change his fate.

"Evie." Alex's voice sounded far away, but when she looked along the path, she saw him coming, closer than she'd expected. The wind was playing tricks. Ellis wasn't with him. He must have stayed behind in the village for some reason.

She waved to show she'd seen him and climbed the steps. When she reached the top, she stopped, waiting for him. His face told her nothing as he climbed the steps, but when he reached her he took her into his arms. His lips tasted of sea salt. Afterward, he leaned his forehead against hers. "It isn't him, Evie."

Reprieve.

She slid her arms around him and melted against his chest. Content to hold each other in the wind and the drizzle, they fit together like puzzle pieces. Though all the things they weren't saying hovered in the air around them, she was happy to leave them there, and for once, so was he.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and finally the heavens opened. Rain lashed down as they ran laughing back to the house. A side door led into a sitting room all painted white. Huge windows looked onto the churning sea, just visible through the driving rain. He led her to the fireplace, an inglenook, all ready to be lit. Once he had the flames roaring nicely, he drew her down onto the floor with him where the heat was fiercest.

She was about to suggest they go upstairs and change out of their soaking wet things when he began unhooking her bodice. "What are you doing?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

"Someone might come in."

"No one comes here. This is my room. Stand up so I can undo your skirt."

Her outer layers had taken the worst of the downpour. Though her petticoat and combination were both damp, the fire would soon fix that. Alex removed his jacket, waistcoat, and tie, then sat beside her.

"What about your trousers?"

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Take them off, for goodness sake."

He did and she saw what nice legs he had. She hadn't particularly noticed before, too busy admiring other physical attributes, but they were long and leanly muscled, dusted with dark hair. His calves looked particularly squeezable.

Bitable, even.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." She averted her gaze.

"Come here."

She let him arrange her with her back against his chest, his legs on either side of her, bent at the knee. He tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around her. Soon she was deliciously warm and comfortable. Outside the rain hammered on the windows and the thunder rumbled. Inside the fire crackled as she allowed the rise and fall of his breaths to rock her to sleep.

∞∞∞

Alex didn't know how long they stayed that way, Evie curled against him so trustingly. She stroked his chest through his shirt, tracing circles, slower and slower until her hand stilled. She was asleep.

He liked her there in his arms, liked simply being with her even when they didn't talk. Perhaps especially today when there were so many things he couldn't tell her. He couldn't say that he'd left Ellis in the village post office sending multiple telegrams to London because then he'd have to explain that he was having Nightingale's studio turned over in the hope of finding something, anything , to incriminate him.

And it wasn't because he thought she'd object. He knew she wouldn't. But he also knew she'd feel guilty about that, as if she were betraying Nightingale. He wouldn't have her suffer over an investigation that might not even bear fruit.

As much as Alex hated those vestiges of a loyalty Nightingale didn't and had never deserved, he couldn't help admiring her steadfastness. She'd been equally loyal to Miss Carmichael.

She shifted in his arms, burrowing closer. Though she'd said little about her feelings toward him, in sleep she sought him out. In sleep, she wanted to be close to him, closer and closer. He knew how she felt even if she never said the words out loud, but God, he longed to hear her say the words. It wouldn't change anything, but he would always carry with him the precious knowledge that she'd returned his feelings.

He could make her say it. Draw the confession out of her with his words and his body, but he already knew he wouldn't. He wanted nothing from her that was not freely given.