She shook her head. “No. This will be all right.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his again, steadier now, the hint of vulnerability tempered by something else, something akin to determination.
They danced in silence for a few moments more as the soft strains of music wrapped around them like a comforting embrace, but Robert’s mind was no longer on the steps or the tempo or the eyes watching them from every corner of the ballroom. It was on her and on what she was about to say.
She was quiet for a moment, her gaze on his shoulder rather than his face. Robert said nothing, letting her gather her thoughts in the small pocket of space between them though it was filled with music and murmured voices and the sweep of silk across polished floors.
“I know I asked that we lead separate lives,” she said at last, almost cautiously, “but I need your help.”
He blinked, surprised. It wasn’t the words themselves. Rather, it was the hesitation behind them, the rare note of vulnerability in her voice.
“You can speak freely to me,” he assured, dipping his head lower, keeping his tone quiet. “You must know that by now.”
She nodded slowly, then met his eyes. “I think… I think my brother-in-law is hurting my sister.”
For a second, Robert stopped breathing. The floor still moved beneath them. His feet continued to step and turn out of sheer discipline. But inside, something scorched and unraveled. He pulled slightly away from her, his muscles coiling and his teeth clenched. The intent was clear in his blazing eyes.
“I’ll put him through the damned window?—”
“No.” She gripped his coat, tightening her hold before he could take another step. “No, you can’t. Not while she’s still in danger.”
His fists curled at his sides, but he forced himself to still. Her hand remained pressed to his chest, the only thing tethering him to reason.
He nodded, just once. “All right,” he replied. “All right. You’re right.”
She drew in a shaky breath, glancing down again. “I was so determined to hate her forever, to never forgive what she did,” she admitted. “But then I saw the bruises. And the way she looked at him like a cornered thing. How could I still hold that grudge after that?”
“You couldn’t,” he agreed quietly. “And it’s the right thing, Evelyn. To protect her now, despite everything.”
She looked up at him then, clearly moved by his words. He, on the other hand, studied her face, his gaze resting on the subtle cracks in her composure, on the sheen in her green eyes.
“I’ll help,” he said without hesitation. “In every way I can. But I hope,” he added in a voice soft but charged with something far heavier, “that I can count on you to do the same.”
She blinked, looking startled. “What do you mean?”
He leaned in, lowering his lips to the shell of her ear. His breath was warm, and his words were spoken with clear conviction.
“I want you to get me into your father’s study,” he whispered. “Because I suspect he is the man who killed my parents.”
Chapter Sixteen
The music slowed and faded as the final notes of the waltz hovered like a sigh between the chandeliers. Robert’s hand lingered at her waist, warm and grounding, and Evelyn turned toward him, her lips parting to speak, but before she could do so, a voice interrupted them.
“Your Grace,” her father appeared with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A few of us were discussing the matter of land assessments and estate boundaries near the Kent border. There’s a dispute between the Huntingford and Beresford lines, and it appears we need a neutral opinion to break the tie. As the only duke among us, your word would go a long way.”
Robert glanced at Evelyn, his brows knitting briefly. She shook her head just slightly in a silent reassurance:go. He gave her a subtle nod, squeezed her hand once, and turned to follow her father through the crowd of dinner jackets and polished boots.
Evelyn was left standing alone at the edge of the ballroom, her breath catching in her chest. Her skin still tingled from the closeness of him, from the things he’d said, and the confession he’d whispered.
She didn’t move until Cordelia’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“There you are, Duchess,” her friend said with a grin, looping an arm through hers. “You’ve been entirely too serious tonight. Surely, you’re not already regretting marrying a handsome, brooding duke?”
Hazel joined her on the other side. “Married mere hours and already pining. It’s all so dreadfully romantic.”
“I’m not—” Evelyn began, but her voice lacked its usual crispness.
Her friends noticed. They exchanged a glance over her head.
