She moved to shut the door at once, but his boot slid between it and the frame before it could close.
“You will remove your foot,” she hissed, her fingers white on the edge of the door, “or I will scream.”
His grin widened, but he was maddeningly calm. “Do. I rather think I’d enjoy it. But you and I both know I’d be gone before anyone comes, and all you’ll have left is a ruined night and some very curious questions.”
Her blood ran hot with fury, but she did not scream. Not yet.
“What do you want?” she asked, jaw clenched.
“To speak with you,” he said smoothly. “I have something you ought to hear.”
“There isnothingI want to hear from you. Go. Away.” Her voice was shaking now, not with fear but with the effort of containing it.
“I’ll go,” he said, “once I’ve said my piece.”
She shoved harder against the door, but it barely moved. He had always been stronger than he looked, yet another of his weapons.
His eyes drifted down her form, pausing just long enough to make her skin crawl. “You’ve grown into quite the woman, Evelyn. You always had potential, but I see now what your future husband sees.”
“Don’t youdarespeak of him.” Her voice was ice now, brittle and sharp.
“Touchy subject,” he murmured. “Does he know? That you once wanted me? That you would have married me with such eagerness?”
She straightened, feeling her rage simmering beneath her skin like flame beneath glass. “He knows enough to know I wouldn’t dirty his name by dragging it through your filth.”
That finally wiped the smirk from his face, if only for a moment. His mouth twisted, and something darker flickered in those eyes, the sort of malice that only revealed itself after the damage had already been done.
“You’ve grown spiteful,” he said, feigning injury. “Unbecoming, really.”
“And you’ve grown bolder, sneaking through corridors like a fox in a henhouse.” Her tone dropped to a near growl. “But I am not the girl you left behind.”
He leaned in slightly, enough to make her flinch before she caught herself.
“No,” he said, voice low. “You’re not. Which is why I came to you tonight.”
Evelyn stood frozen with one hand still on the door’s latch. She was shaking her head, unable to say anything. She had expected threats, veiled barbs, perhaps more of his usual sickening flirtation, but not this madness.
The Viscount had not moved. He stood there in the corridor, eyes glinting with something darkly hopeful.
“I made a mistake, Evelyn,” he said in what she could only understand as his best effort at tenderness, as though softening the blow might undo its weight. “When I saw you again… standing here like this, looking at me with such fire… I realized the truth.”
Evelyn didn’t answer. She couldn’t. And that was how he mistook her silence for consideration.
“I never truly loved Matilda.” He gave a bitter smile, as if confessing something noble. “It was always you. Even when I ran with her, it was you I imagined beside me.”
Her stomach turned.
“I wasn’t thinking. I was stupid. And she… well, you know how she is. She was willing. Eager. But I see it now, Evelyn. I chose wrong.” He stepped closer again. “And I’ve paid for it every day since.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came. Her body remained tense, coiled, like a wire pulled too tight.
He took another step. “Come with me,” he invited, with a devilish sense of urgency creeping into his voice. “To the colonies. We’ll vanish. Start over. No titles. No families. No ghosts between us. Just you and me. I’ll marry you under any name you choose. Evelyn Ashworth if you like. Or something new. We’ll make a new life. Together.”
The absurdity of it shattered her stillness.
Together? After everything?
Her hand moved faster than thought. The sharp crack of her palm against his cheek echoed through the corridor like a pistol shot. He staggered back a step, a red bloom already darkening along his skin. He stared at her in stunned silence.
