“Goodnight, Petra.” Evelyn took the candle Petra offered and held it aloft as she stepped onto the staircase. She was relieved when Petra closed the door behind her, so no one was witness to the way Evelyn stared at the candle, praying the flame would stay alight in the darkness.
Do not go out, do not go out…
Trapped in the darkness of this staircase without a candle would be one of her nightmares come true.
When she reached a door at the top of the staircase, she opened it wide, relieved to see she had come out in the hallway exactly as Petra had claimed. This hallway was flooded with lanterns. The new light made her shoulders soften as she crept toward the door of the Duke’s study.
Pressing her ear against the wood, she listened in, checking no one was inside. So far, she had managed to avoid him, but didn’t have the slightest intention of bumping into him now.
What would he say? What would he… do?
She felt her body betrayed her in answer, by shuddering with a sort of excitement.
When she heard no sounds from the other side of the door, she tapped lightly. Still, no answer. Reaching for the handle, she turned it and stepped through the door.
Inside, she found his escritoire was covered in letters, all neatly arranged into piles. On one side was a stack clearly labeled, ‘To be sent.’She was about to add her letter to the pile when another stack caught her eye.
They were unopened letters, all written in cursive and flamboyant handwriting that clearly belonged to women. Evelyn glanced at the open door, checking neither the Duke nor any of the servants had appeared in the doorway, before she reached for the letter on top and lifted it, reading it in the candlelight.
The letter was indeed from a woman and judging by the less-than-subtle contents, she was a former lover of the Duke of Ravensworth. She was asking for another night together, her language straight to the point and almost pleading for his attentions.
A coil of jealousy curdled in Evelyn’s stomach.
“What is wrong with me?” She put down the letter as hurriedly as she could, dropping it on the pile with the rest. Placing her own letter on the to-be-sent pile, she left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
She hesitated there for a moment, thinking of the height of the pile of unopened letters. Had they all been from former lovers? She blushed at the mere thought that what he had done with her the night before, he had done with so many other women—no, perhaps he had done even more.
Now, she felt a new sort of jealousy. She was envious of the women in those letters, for they had experienced something that she hadn’t, something that she longed to know more about.
Turning her back on the study door, she left, tiptoeing through the house and up the stairs, watching constantly for any appearance of the Duke. She saw no sign of him, but when she reached the upstairs landing, there weren’t so many candles lit. She held her one candle higher in the air, hoping its soft light would fill the shadows in the hallway.
When she reached her chamber, she stepped in hurriedly and closed the door behind her, deciding that tonight, she would fill this room with light. Drawing the curtains closed, she blocked out the darkness, and lit every candle she could find. A line of them started on the mantelpiece, and more were placed beside the bed on small tables. Only when she was certain there was enough light to last until morning did she smile.
Come morning, I shall have to hope the snow has cleared and I can return home.
In her letter, she had explained her absence to her aunt and uncle by claiming that a friend of hers was in need. Her parents had fallen ill, and unable to deliver them food herself in the bad weather, she had asked Evelyn to go in her place. Evelyn had happily accepted and was now trapped by the snow. She had to pray that if and when her uncle and aunt retrieved the letter, they would believe it.
* * *
“I cannot do this…” Rafe swayed and put the glass down beside him on the table, struggling to get it to stay up straight. “How much…?” He couldn’t even finish asking himself how much he had drunk because he’d had that many.
That evening, he’d known sooner or later he’d have to go to bed, and he feared in that darkness the nightmares would return. He’d see the past before him, perhaps even more vividly than before because of all the snow.
“Dull…” Rafe murmured drunkenly as he shrugged off his tailcoat. Leaning against one of the posters of the bed, he reached for his cravat next, tossing that to the side too, and unbuttoning his waistcoat. Before he slipped the material down his shoulders, he halted, staring into the distance across the room.
He tried to focus on the flame over the candle, to stop the edges of his vision from spinning a little in the attempt to sober up.
Last night, I didn’t dream.
For a second, he hoped wildly it would be the same tonight. It had been the first night in years where he hadn’t seen the past play out before him, or some maniacal and devious version of it, sent to torment him at night by demons.
He saw Evelyn before him once again in the library. He saw her standing with the night rail gripping to her body, emphasizing all of those beautiful curves. He saw her demure smile, then the way she bit her lip as he moved toward her. Lastly, he saw her face contorted in pleasure as he’d entered her with his fingers, thrilling her with his thrusts.
He needed a way to comfort himself.
He stepped toward the door, snatching up the candle. Now, with such purpose in his step, he walked a little more soberly and didn’t sway so much. Moving out into the corridor, he closed the door behind him and crept through the hallways.
He halted when he reached the entrance to the west wing.
