Joanna seemed to sense a shift in his mood, and she looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “Evan? Is everything all right?”
“Quite.” He cleared his throat and sat up in bed. She did the same, looking more and more worried by the second. He took a deep breath, wishing he had a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves. “Do you want to know why I detest the rain?”
“Only if you wish to tell me,” she said quietly. “I can tell it is a painful memory for you.”
“Yes,” he said. “But you deserve to know. Especially after how you helped me today.”
Joanna arranged herself into a more comfortable sitting position, with her skirts now covering her legs again. She folded her hands in her lap and gave him her undivided attention.
However, Evan realized he was at a loss for words until he looked away from her. His eyes settled on the family portrait hanging on his bedroom wall, and a lump formed in his throat.
It was before Peter joined the family, so it was just a painting of him and his parents. He was young in the painting, maybe only three or four, but he still remembered how difficult it was for him to sit still for it, especially in that itchy suit they had put him in.
“My parents were kind people,” he said finally. “I loved them very much. Peter did too, of course. They are the ones who adopted him instead of sending him back to whatever hellish orphanage he had managed to escape.”
Joanna stayed quiet, but he knew she was listening with rapt attention.
He took a deep breath and continued. “We loved going to Hyde Park together when we were in London. My father might have been a very serious man when he was handling matters of the estate or Parliament, but he was never like that with me. He could be quite playful. Always joking around and ready to play games with me. And my mother was as beautiful as she was kind.”
You are stalling. You can talk for hours about your parents without getting to the heart of the matter.
He cleared his throat and looked away from the old family portrait. “They died when I was nine. We were coming backhome from the theater one day. Peter was with Grandmother, so it was just the three of us.” He took a deep breath. “I admit this is harder to tell than I was expecting.” He ran his fingers through his hair only to realize his hands were shaking slightly.
Joanna reached out to touch his arm, comforting him. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “It’s all right.”
“No. I want to tell you. I think you might be the only person I want to tell. Besides, the story is almost over anyway.” He took a deep breath and continued. “It was raining really hard, and the carriage hit a rock on the road. One of the wheels fell off, and the driver lost control of the horses that panicked—” he swallowed, closing his eyes.
“The carriage was destroyed. I don’t really remember that part. The next thing I know, I am sitting on the street in the pouring rain, right outside the wrecked carriage. My leg is hurting, but I don’t care about that. I see my parents’ bodies in the rubble, along with the driver’s. I keep staring at them for hours, hoping they move, but they don’t, and their limbs are twisted in horrifying directions, and I can see blood on my father’s temple.” He shuddered. “It was well past nightfall before someone found me and took me home. I ended up in bed with pneumonia and a broken leg, but that only mattered to Peter and Grandmother, who were worried about losing me, too. All I cared about was how I would never see my parents again. Ever since that day, even the sound of rain is enough to bring me back to that moment.”
“That is so awful,” Joanna murmured. “I am so sorry.”
He shook his head. “I should be over it by now. I am not a child anymore.”
She moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t think that’s how grief works,” she said. “Some things like that will just stick with you. I am truly sorry that happened to you. It must have been very difficult.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. “It was much easier with you,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. “You make that pain easier.”
They stayed in each other’s embrace like that for a long time. Emotions swirled through Evan. Talking about his family was painful, of course. Even more difficult than he imagined. But now that it was over, he felt lighter somehow, and even relieved.
Joanna made it easier. She made life feel easier. The thought of saying goodbye to her after the Season was over was excruciating. The thought of finding another man to marry her was unbearable.
He had sworn off marriage and closed his heart to love because he didn’t think he could handle losing more people he cared about. He was already at risk of losing Peter and his grandmother. Why add more risk by loving someone else?
Even worse was the thought thathecould be the one to suddenly die, leaving a wife and possibly a child alone in the world.
But after telling everything to Joanna, and seeing her understanding and quiet comfort—none of the false sympathies and condolences the rest of thetonoffered him when he was a boy—giving his heart to her didn’t seem so risky anymore.
Perhaps with her by his side, he could be bold enough to let himself love others, even with the risk of them being lost.
He stared down at her in awe. Her eyes were closed as she rested her head against his shoulder, so she would never see how he was looking at her.
Joanna didn’t want to continue their agreement into the next Season, and he understood that. She was being practical, knowing the sooner she married, the safer she would be. Perhaps he didn’t have to find her a suitor to marry. Perhaps she would accept his hand in marriage if he offered it.
Marriage would not be so bad if it was with Joanna.
The question was hanging on his lips—the question that would change both of their lives permanently.
But before he could utter the words, his bedroom door opened and Peter appeared.
