The Earl I Adore (23 page)

T
he walk to Evan's study felt exactly how he imagined a trip to the gallows would feel. His feet were heavy, but not half so much as his heart. He should have turned his back and walked inside, honor be damned. He should have sent them on their way, knowing full well that this minor, practically manufactured scandal would hardly be worse than that of her sister's elopement.

But he'd seen the look on Sophie's face. He'd seen the heartache, the upset, the anguish at not knowing what to do. And she had done her best to avoid trapping him into this situation once they were confronted outside by her mother. The thought of saddling her with even more shame, ruining her in a way that would follow her for years to come . . . In the end, he simply couldn't do it.

But the question was, would she be any better with him? Stuck in a forced marriage that could never be real, for fear of the consequences he'd spent his whole life avoiding? His jaw hardened as they walked into the study. Turning abruptly, he held up a hand to Mrs. Wembley. “If you would be so kind, I would like to have a moment to speak with Miss Wembley alone.”

Her brow wrinkled as she looked up at him with
ready indignation. “I should think not. You've had your time alone with her this morning.”

He straightened his back and looked down on her with all the patience he had left—which was exactly none. “Allow me to rephrase. You
will
wait in the drawing room while I speak with Miss Wembley here. Is that understood?”

She faltered, her bravado slipping beneath his commanding tone. “Well,” she said, brushing at her sleeve, “I suppose a little time alone together at this stage is to be expected. I shall rejoin you in five minutes.”

“You will rejoin us when we send for you.”

She lifted her chin but didn't challenge his authority. Evan nodded to Higgins, who quickly led Sophie's mother away, shutting the door behind them. For a moment, neither Sophie nor Evan moved or spoke into the ringing silence around them. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the pair of chairs situated in front of the desk. “Please, let us sit.”

Sophie, the most irrepressible soul he had ever met, seemed fragile for perhaps the first time since he had known her. Her features were drawn with worry, her eyes brimming with deep regret and guilt. His heart squeezed with the need to comfort her, but there was too much for them to discuss. This was the rest of their lives; she deserved to know what she was getting into, so that she could make an informed decision.

Sinking into the chair, she tugged at the ribbon of her bonnet and pulled it off. Her dark hair sprang free, spiraling up in a halo of dampened curls. Setting the hat aside, she waited, hands folded, while he sat in the opposite chair.

When he opened his mouth to speak, she broke in, as if unable to stay quiet a moment longer. “Please, let me
just say how terribly sorry I am for what has happened. I never dreamed such a thing could have resulted from my silly, stupid desire to say good-bye. I hate it for you, and I promise to do everything in my power to somehow make it up to you. I know it's not what you wanted, but we can make it work, I'm sure of it.”

She nodded, but he wasn't sure if she was assuring him or herself. Perhaps both. He sighed, slicking his wet hair back from his face. “Yes, I know. Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control, and it is up to us to figure out how to live with the consequences.”

The story of his life, really.

Leaning forward, he set his elbows on his knees and peered at her, trying to find the best way to say what needed to be said. There were two things that he was certain of: Sophie believed herself to be in love with him, and he knew himself to be in love with her.

Painfully, almost desperately so.

So much, in fact, that he could barely stand the thought of sentencing her to a life by his side in a marriage that could never be what she deserved. He wanted to protect her, to keep her from suffering if things went the way he feared they would.

He had to tell her the truth about his past.

He knew it, was resolved to it, but saying the words that hovered on his tongue was still daunting. Meeting her eyes, he said, “Sophie, there is much that you don't know about me. Before we move forward from this moment, before any decisions can possibly be made, there is something I need to share with you. It's something I've never spoken of to another person, other than my sister, and I hope that no matter what we decide today, you will keep what I am about to tell you in strict confidence.”

*   *   *

Eyes wide, curiosity burning bright, Sophie dipped her head in a single nod. “Upon my word, Evan; you can trust me with anything.” Whatever it was, obviously it was important to him. She may have utterly failed him this morning, but by Jove she would take his secret to the grave.

He nodded and leaned back, idly rubbing his hands together. “I wonder, what do you know of my father?”

Sophie blinked, taken off guard by the unlikely question. “Your father?” What did he have to do with anything? “Only that he died when you were young—fifteen, I think you said? It was a riding accident, if I recall correctly.” It would have happened when Sophie was still in the nursery, so it was hardly worth speaking of other than to mark how long Evan had been earl.

Across from her, his shoulders sagged the smallest amount, almost as though he was relieved by her answer. Pressing his lips together, he dipped his head in a nod. “That is correct, in the strictest of terms. But there is much more to the story, I'm afraid.” His voice was quiet, serious.

Curling her fingers into her palms to stave off her growing anxiety, she said, “I see. Well, actually I don't see, not at all, but do go on.” She bit down on her bottom lip hard, stopping the nervous flow of words.

He looked off toward the window. “My father was very distant when I was growing up. No fond trips to the nursery or doting first riding lessons. When he was in residence, we saw him perhaps once or twice a week. He preferred for children to be out of sight, for the most part.”

Sophie nodded, not wanting to interrupt him. It was the kind of upbringing that was all too familiar in the
ton
. While her own father was far from ideal, at least he had interacted with his daughters regularly.

“Most of the time, however, he was either in London or at the small estate we own in Northampton. Truly, if not for his brother's frequent visits when I was young, I doubt I would have known a man's influence at all. But then, when I was fourteen, my father came home one day, and he never left again. He was different, somehow. Obsessive, angry, given to fits of rage and days of melancholy that kept me and my sister walking on eggshells whenever we saw him. My mother let go much of the staff, keeping only the most loyal, and paying them handsomely for their discretion.

“Things grew worse and worse as the months went on, and my mother became fearful and tried to keep us from him. I was old enough to think I could intervene, but—” He stopped, his throat working as he swallowed. Looking over at her, he said, “Suffice it to say, it was a very, very bad time in our lives. In less than five months, he had descended into true madness.”

Sophie gasped before she knew what she was about, and quickly put a hand to her mouth. “My apologies. That must have been terrible.” It was the understatement of the year, but words could scarcely encompass how he must have felt. Her heart broke for the boy who witnessed such a thing in his father. “What of your uncle? Couldn't he have helped?” Surely someone could have stepped in.

Evan shook his head. “Unfortunately, he had died earlier that year. And with my father's position, it was of the utmost importance that no one learn of his illness. We tried so hard to pull him from the depths of his madness, but nothing seemed to help.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed as he drew a deep breath. “In the end, he did die in a riding accident, but it was of his own doing. He stole the horse in the middle of
the night, then led the grooms who tried to catch him on a merry chase. He was . . . mostly unclothed, riding bareback through the countryside in the dead of winter.

“He drove his mount directly at the shallow creek that ran along the south end of the property, and when the horse came up short instead of plowing into the icy water, my father was thrown. He hit his head on the rocks and lay submerged until the groom caught up to him several minutes later.” He shook his head. “There was nothing to be done.”

A cold shiver raced down Sophie's spine at the very thought. Such a horrible way to die. What Evan and his family must have gone through after that, Sophie could only imagine. No wonder he and his sister were so close.

Evan ran a hand over his still-damp hair, cutting sober eyes in her direction. “There is madness in my blood, Sophie.” The bleakness in his voice was even more chilling than his story. “It is something that we have managed to keep secret, but it is still there.”

Sophie sat back, attempting to grasp the enormity of such a confession. All these years, holding the world at arm's length so no one would learn their secret. If the madness had been discovered, the whole family would have suffered tremendously. The fear that lunacy would be hereditary would have meant a lifetime of scrutiny for him and his sister. The title would have been irreparably tainted. Sophie sat forward, understanding dawning.

“Is that why you were so upset about your sister's marriage?”

His nod was curt. “We made a pact, shortly after Father's death. Neither of us would marry, nor would we have children. If one of us were to fall victim to madness, the other would care for them. No wife or progeny to go
through what my family has endured, and no danger of passing the madness on to the next generation.”

“But . . . what about an heir?” she asked numbly, unable to believe what he was saying. How could he have been able to cope with such a fate? He and Julia had sentenced themselves for a crime they never committed.

Tipping his chin up, he said, “I have a very capable cousin who will inherit. I see it as my duty to ensure that the title remains unblemished until that time.”

It was more than she knew how to take in. He'd been living his life as some sort of pass-through? Living with no real purpose other than protecting the family's secret and preserving the title for another who might be considered untainted? “How dreadful, Evan. You deserve so much more than that.”

It was clear her words surprised him. Had he never considered that he was worthy of a normal life, despite what had happened to his father? He shook his head twice, his eyes intense. “No,
you
deserve more. I'm telling you all this because you deserve a choice. Neither option is fair, but they're the only ones you have: Live with the scandal of having damaged your reputation, or live with a shell of a marriage, one that will never be anything more than signatures on a piece of paper.”

His forehead creased with lines of strain as he lifted his hands. “Ruined but free, or married and miserable: Which will you choose?”

The stark reality of the situation hit her like a slap in the face. She stared at him, caught in the hopelessness etched in his features. She knew what he was saying:
He
would be miserable if he were married to her. To
anyone
. He'd made his choice, and she and her mother had destroyed his plans. It was a wonder he hadn't slammed the door in both their faces.

Exhaling grimly, she shook her head. “Then it appears we have been brought to Point Non Plus.”

Confusion brought his brows together. “Whatever do you mean? There are options—two of them, to be precise.”

She shook her head, feeling worse and worse by the moment. “No, there are not. I have a better chance of walking to France than I do of getting my mother to back down. I can tell you with one hundred percent accuracy that nothing I say will persuade her to release you.”

His curse was sharp and low. He came to his feet and paced a few steps before turning back to her. “She has no say in the matter. I cannot be forced by her, no matter how she may wish it. What I want to know is, what is
your
decision?”

What, indeed. Both options seemed bleak beyond bearing. To live her life married in name only to a man who desperately didn't want her seemed the worst kind of fate—especially since she loved him so much. Even now, her heart twisted with the pain of it, knowing that he had set his own heart against her so completely.

But . . . at least then she could
try
to make him happy. He might never accept her as a true partner, but what if she could make him laugh, and sing, and live with some semblance of normalcy? What if she could soften the brittleness that bracketed his face when he spoke of his past?

Coming to her feet, she walked over to where he stood. She hated the pain she saw in his eyes, hated the way he held himself so stiffly. Looking into his face, she knew she was fooling herself to think that she could somehow make him love her someday. That by sheer force of will she could make him happy to be wed to her.

No, there was only one way she could make him happy.

Lifting on her toes, she cupped his jaw and kissed him oh so lightly on his lips. He closed his eyes briefly, then met her gaze. Her heart seemed to splinter as she peered into the pale, troubled depths of his eyes. Swallowing, she whispered the words she knew he needed. “I choose freedom.”

Freedom for him. Ruination for her.

E
van felt as though he'd been dragged behind a runaway horse through a field of rocks, only instead of a bruised and bloodied body, it was his heart that had taken the brunt of the beating.

And that was the
best
outcome the day could have had.

Blowing out a long breath, he pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. He'd been sitting in his study for hours, unable to get the look on Sophie's face when she left out of his head. She'd been wrecked. Heartbroken. And yet, somehow she'd been strong enough to stand unflinching in the face of her mother's fury when Evan decreed that he would not be making an offer.

He reached for the snifter of brandy sitting at his elbow on the desk. At the last second, he dropped his hand. He didn't deserve the escape the liquor promised. Sophie wouldn't have one, so why should he?

For perhaps the hundredth time, he repeated the words he had been saying since she left:
It's for the best.
She had hope of living a happy life, in time, at home in Appleton. The infraction was minor when compared to her sister's scandal. Her family would already be lying low, so in time, it all might just blow over.

If she had chosen to marry him, it would have been a life sentence. In the beginning, they might have found some happiness, but what if he was stricken as his father had been? He would never, in a thousand years, subject anyone to the fate his mother had endured, let alone the woman he loved.

But now, what the hell was he going to do with himself? He was on edge, anxious to do
something
, but what that something was, he couldn't figure out. He wanted to pack up and return home, but another part of him wanted to stay. To be here in case Sophie needed something, anything, before she left. He was fully aware of how ludicrous that thought was, but it was true nonetheless.

“Higgins said I would find you here.”

Evan tensed at the sound of his sister's voice. “Julia,” he said, unsure whether he was angry, relieved, or irritated to see her. He came to his feet, but didn't move toward where she stood quietly just inside the door, her features calm and collected. Her eyes were brilliant despite the dull day, as if lit from within somehow. She seemed happier than he ever remembered seeing her. Not the brief joy that entertainment or a fun evening brought, but rather a state of being that softened her whole countenance.

In the face of what he had just given up, he was in no mood for her happiness. Did she have no care at all for what she had just done? What Harry might yet have to suffer because of her incredibly selfish and shortsighted decision? “What in God's name were you thinking?”

She pulled off her gloves, much as she had the day she arrived. Hard to believe how much had changed since that day. She met his gaze evenly, one corner of her lip turned up in a light grin. “Well, it's good to know you're still speaking to me, at the very least.”

At the very least, indeed. He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I could murder you right now, but I'm afraid I've too much on my mind at the moment to bother with hiding the body.”

“If you were to murder me, at least I would die a happy woman, which never would have been the case before.”

Scowling, he came around the desk. “Happy? For doing something that not only undermined our pact, but which ultimately could hurt all those you love?” He was veering toward angry, thinking of the chain of events that had unfolded in the last day.

“No,” she replied, not at all ruffled, “for doing something that I had fought against for so long, but that I knew my heart so desperately wanted.” She walked fully into the study and settled on the chair Sophie had occupied not three hours ago. She patted the adjacent seat and waited until he sighed and came to sit down.

“I told you it was a long story, but let me summarize how this all came about. I've known for years that Harry harbored a sort of puppy love for me, and I was actually quite annoyed by it. He was just a boy, and then just an adolescent, and then just a foolish young man. But when he finished school and came home to take his place as the new baronet, something changed in him.”

Her cheeks grew rosy as she twisted the gloves in her hands. “It was no longer puppy love, then. He tried to properly court me, but I wouldn't have it, so he set about trying to wear me down by coming up with a million reasons to visit. It was hard not to be swayed by that kind of persistence.”

He knew all about being swayed without wanting to be. Evan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Why did you never say anything to me? Why didn't Mother?”

Lifting her shoulders, Julia sent him a guilty look. “I think deep down I was falling in love with him, and I didn't want to do or say anything that would change the way it made me feel. Until something did change.” For the first time since she entered the room, her composure slipped. “One day, when we were walking along the creek, Harry asked me to marry him.”

At the mention of the creek, Evan's shoulders tensed. He always avoided going there—the association with his father's death was just too devastating.

“Yes, I know,” she said, ducking her head. “It couldn't have been a worse place. I hadn't been thinking about the path we were on until we were there, and then he was on his knee, asking for my hand.

“I froze, panicked, told him I could never marry him, and ran back to the house. He caught up to me, tried to reason with me, told me how he had always loved me and always would, no matter what. The problem was,” she said, turning troubled eyes to him, “that I realized then just how much I had come to love him. I knew that I could never have him, so I pushed him away. I came here the very next day.”

That explained so much. No wonder she had been so moody and volatile when she arrived. A week ago he couldn't have understood her turmoil, but today, he sympathized only too well. But still, it only made the simmering anger that much more painful. He had tried to walk away. He had tried so damn hard to do the right thing—for him, for his family,
and
for Sophie. Julia had simply tossed all caution and prudency out the window and taken what she wanted.

“So he followed you here, and you suddenly decided to throw up your hands and give in?”

She sat up straight, glaring back at him reproachfully.
“That's not fair, Evan. I
did
fight it. So much so that
you
reprimanded me for being too harsh. Believe it or not, it wasn't until I went to make sure that Sophie was all right that I started to see things differently.”

Evan's gaze jerked back to his sister. What did
Sophie
have to do with this?

Lifting her hand to her chest, Julia leaned forward. “Her heart was broken, Evan, and still she didn't regret taking the risk. She helped me see that none of us know what the future holds, and we have to at least try to reach for the things that will make us happy.”

After the way he had rebuffed Sophie's advances that night, after the way she must have felt, she truly hadn't regretted it? Evan rubbed his palms over his thighs, trying to rein in his emotions. Everything was crashing down around him, and it all seemed to center on one diminutive brunette.

“Speaking of Miss Wembley,” he said, “I'm afraid there is something I must tell you.” As briefly and concisely as he could, he explained the events of the morning.

Julia stared back at him, clearly shocked. “My God, Evan. I—I don't know what to say.”

“Your condolences would be appropriate. For both me and Miss Wembley. I doubt she is as happy now for her risks as when you spoke with her.”

She reared back a little, watching him with thoughtful eyes. “How could you have let her walk away like that? She loves you, and I've seen the way you look at her. I find it impossible to believe you'd rather see her
ruined
than married to the man she loves.”

Anger balled in his stomach, low and heavy. “Don't patronize me. You may no longer give a damn about this family, but I sure as hell do. The marriage would have
been a sham, harmful to both parties. Sophie is the sweetest person I've ever known. She doesn't deserve to be shackled to a man who may someday turn out to be a monster.”

Even saying the words made dread condense in his chest and chill his blood. That was his deepest, darkest fear, the one that made him wake with a start in the middle of the night. What if he turned into his father? Being out of his mind, unable to control his own thoughts and actions—it was the worst possible hell.

“You are not our father,” she said quietly, her eyes intense.

He looked down to his hands. “Not yet, anyway. But the possibility remains.”

Leaning forward, Julia placed a hand over his forearm. “Neither of us knows what lies ahead. We still don't know if our father's illness is inheritable, just as we don't know if one of us will be struck dead by lightning tomorrow.

“You could be held up by highwaymen on the way home, or fall ill with the plague, or God knows what else. But here is what I do know: I'm ready to start living the life God gave me. I've been given the gift of love, and I won't turn my back on it anymore.” She straightened, looking him directly in the eye. “It's my greatest hope that you won't either.”

He blinked back at her, at a loss for what to say. Real passion lit her eyes, as though she honestly believed what she said. Didn't she know such a thing was wishful thinking? That she'd been reckless as hell to run off and marry the man she loved? Evan had allowed Sophie to walk away
because
he loved her. It was the noblest thing he could have done.

When he didn't say anything, she sighed and released
his hand. Standing, she shook out her skirts and started for the door.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, turning in his seat.

She smiled at him, an odd mingling of compassion and joy evident in her features. “I've a husband to look after, dear brother.”

He came to his feet, pushing back the resentment that threatened to engulf him. She was his only sister, and he loved her, despite wanting to throttle her. “So it would seem. Which begs the question, how is it you were able to marry him so quickly?”

Her cheeks reddened again and she gave a little shake of her head. “Harry went to London to purchase a special license before following me here. He said he wanted to be prepared the very moment I came to my senses.”

The clever bastard. If Evan didn't like him so well, he would really hate him right about now. “And you somehow found someone to perform a ceremony at a moment's notice?”

“Indeed,” she said, biting back a smile. “Your very favorite vicar, in fact: Mr. Wright.”

Bloody clergyman. Evan crossed his arms. “I'll have to remember to thank him,” he murmured darkly.

Julia chuckled. “Be nice. I owe him a debt of gratitude.”

“I owe him something, all right.” Suddenly feeling incredibly tired, he turned to more-pressing matters. “I expect to head back to Ledbury the day after tomorrow. Will you be returning with me?” It felt odd, asking her travel plans. It would take a while to grow used to the idea of her being a married woman.

“Yes, I think so. I'm anxious to check on Mama. I feel terrible for leaving her as I did. I wrote her a long, long
letter that I posted yesterday before the wedding, but I'm looking forward to speaking to her in person.”

Evan couldn't begin to imagine what his mother would think of this. Both he and his sister had always felt she was too fragile to discuss the events of so long ago, but he felt certain she would have agreed with their pact, had she known. “I wish you would have waited until we could be there with her before telling her. But what's done is done, I suppose. We all must move forward as best we can.”

Offering him a sympathetic smile, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I love you, brother. Things will work out for us, one way or another.”

Evan sighed and patted her on the back. He would have thought she'd stopped believing in fairy tales years ago.