But it was. And a moment later, Robert appeared in the doorway.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Evelyn…”
His voice rang out, firm yet breathless, from the doorway.
She froze. The book in her hands slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor with a soft thud. When she turned, her eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief, Robert could hardly breathe. She had never looked more beautiful.
A simple gown hugged her frame, and the light from the tall windows fell upon her like a benediction. Her hair was half-pinned, a few curls falling around her cheeks, flushed with shock. And in her eyes, he could see all the pain, surprise, and something he dared to hope was still love.
“I… may I have a moment?” he asked hoarsely with his eyes flicking briefly to the others in the room.
Cordelia’s mouth was slightly open in delight, and Hazel raised one stern brow at him before nodding. Matilda hesitated a moment longer, studying her sister, then silently tugged Cordelia and Hazel with her toward the adjoining room.
And then, it was only the two of them.
Robert stepped forward, slowly, like a man approaching something sacred. He wanted to ask her why she left without a word. He wanted to rage, to demand, to confess, but everything tangled together until he no longer knew where to begin. His heart thundered against his ribs.
“I…” His voice caught. He stopped in front of her, eyes searching hers. “I don’t know if I should ask why you left or tell you that I love you first.”
Evelyn blinked rapidly, her lips parted and trembling. So, he chose the truth.
“I love you,” he said, allowing his voice to reveal everything he was feeling at that moment. “I don’t think I knew what love was before you. Not truly. I didn’t believe in it, not after what happened to my family. I lived in darkness for so long, Evelyn. Revenge became my purpose, silence my companion. I thought… I thought if I opened myself to anyone again, it would destroy me. That I would lose them, too.”
He took her hands, gently, reverently, as though they were made of porcelain.
“But you…” he continued, his voice faltering with the weight of everything he had never said, “you taught me to see the world with different eyes. You taught me warmth. You made me laugh again. You challenged me. You saw me, and you didn’t look away.”
Her eyes glistened though she remained still.
“I don’t want a life without you,” he said as his fingers tightened slightly around hers. “Not one governed by fear or ghosts or what-ifs. I want a life with you. Whatever it looks like. Whatever you’ll allow me to give. You said once you didn’t want to be controlled, and I swear to you, I never will. But I had to come. I had to tell you.”
He stepped back then, chest heaving slightly. His eyes burned, his heart thundered, but his voice remained quiet.
“I love you, Evelyn. I think I always have.”
And then, he waited. He waited even as the silence stretched between them, delicate and taut like spun glass. Robert watched her, his every breath a prayer, his every heartbeat thudding with the fear that he had come too late.
Evelyn’s eyes shimmered. Her hands trembled in his, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached up slowly, fingers grazing his jaw, her touch feather-light, as if confirming he was real.
“You love me,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
He nodded, not trusting his voice now that the words were out, bare and honest, beyond the armor he had always worn. Evelyn gave a soft, broken laugh, then a tear slid down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away.
“I told myself,” she said, voice wavering, “that you didn’t say anything because you didn’t feel it. That our arrangement had simply run its course. That it was over.”
“It was never just an arrangement to me,” Robert said at once, stepping closer. “Not after I met you. Not after I came to know you. It began that way, yes, but somewhere along the way, it became everything.”
Evelyn’s lip trembled again. “I left because I couldn’t bear to hear you say goodbye. Because if you didn’t love me, I… I couldn’t pretend to be indifferent. And I didn’t want to become someone who begged for scraps of affection.”
His hands came to cradle her face, and his forehead dropped to hers.
“You were never a scrap,” he said fiercely. “You are everything. The air I breathe. The future I didn’t think I could have. I was a fool not to say it sooner. I was afraid… but not anymore.”
He kissed her then, so very gently and reverently. Not out of passion but out of promise. His lips lingered on hers, as if sealing a vow he would never again be too proud or too broken to make. When they parted, Evelyn looked up at him, her tears now freely falling, but her smile radiant.
“You’re an idiot,” she whispered.
