Prologue
Three months earlier
Standing a few feet away from the closed door, Evie was gripped with desire and uncertainty.
She sensed James on the other side, moving around in his adjoining suite. He hadn’t yet left for the evening—a rare opportunity, if she had the courage to seize it. With his political star on the rise, her husband was invited to countless affairs. At first, he had requested that she accompany him…but she’d made excuses often enough that he’d likely grown tired of asking.
Or perhaps he has grown tired of me.
She swallowed against the pain and fluttering panic. The truth was she had no one to blame but herself. She hadn’t been good enough for him when he married her, and the events of the past year had shown that she would never be. She was cursed. She could never outrun her past. It would poison everything—everyone she allowed to come too close.
Trembling, she retreated a few steps. From this angle, she saw flickering movements under the door. James was getting ready to leave, and Robson, his valet, was putting the final touches on his perfection. She still had a chance to ask if she could join him this eve. She was in full evening attire and had asked her maid to take special care with her appearance. While she was no match for her husband’s elegance, she would pass muster. If she was brave enough to make the first move…to break the wall of silence. Even though she shouldn’t, she yearned to mend things—to have whatever intimacy she could with him.
She took halting steps to the door. Raised her hand to knock.
Robson’s voice filtered through the barrier. “I do believe the diamond stick pin is the correct addition, my lord. It was admired the last time you wore it.”
Admired? Who admired James’s cravat pin? Who was close enough—bold enough—to remark upon so personal an item?
Evie clenched her raised hand inches from the door, her breaths quick and hot.
“Was it?” Her husband’s deep voice came through. “Very well, leave it. It is getting late, and this particular hostess believes in punctuality.”
Who was hosting James? Was this a public affair…or a private one?
She had no right to care—not after everything she’d done. But she did care. With every fiber of her being.
“Shall I leave word regarding your return, my lord?” Robson inquired.
A heartbeat passed. Then Evie heard James’s distinctive footsteps approaching their shared door. Her pulse racing, she stumbled into a nearby corner, taking refuge amongst the leaves of the aspidistra. From the shadows, she saw the moving light under the door and knew that James was standing there on the other side.
Will he come in? Invite me to join him? What should I do?
“No.” James’s voice was curt. “There is no need to disturb the countess.”
Evie listened to his departing footsteps, wetness sliding down her cheeks.
Chapter One
Watching her husband prowl in front of the fire, Evelyn Harrington, the Countess of Manderly, recognized with an uneasy quiver that he wasn’t himself. James was always proper and reserved—the perfect gentleman. The perfect husband. Nothing ruffled him; even the most disquieting circumstances failed to erode his composure and rationality. With her, he was courteous and kind, never asking for more than she could give—even if a part of her wanted him to.
However, Evie’s polished spouse of over three years was nowhere to be seen this eve. In his place stood a man who looked like James—but his restraint had been replaced by a raw, dangerous intensity. He’d raked his fingers through his thick brown hair, threaded with bronze, disheveling its precise cut. A night beard shadowed his typically clean-shaven jaw. He had shed his impeccable frock coat and cravat and rolled up the sleeves of his pristine shirt. While his physique was naturally brawny, he had packed on more muscle since she’d last seen him from such an intimate distance.
His fitted waistcoat revealed the powerful breadth of his shoulders and the leanness of his torso. Fascinated, she saw the flexing sinew of his hair-dusted forearms as he curled and uncurled his hands. When he prowled away from her, crossing the floral carpet, her gaze caught on the sculpted curve of his backside. Her cheeks warming, she quickly looked away.
While Evie had rarely seen her husband in an agitated state, she also made it a habit not to pry into his affairs. It was better that way—better to keep a safe distance. Although she missed their former closeness, she told herself it was for the best that they did not live in each other’s pockets. She couldn’t risk letting her secrets destroy the best thing that had ever happened to her.
For his part, James seemed content with the present state of affairs. He never entered her bedchamber without permission and only when he had discreetly ascertained that such a visit would be welcome. In the early days of their marriage, he had knocked upon the door of their adjoining suites at least once a week. But now it had been six months and thirteen days since he’d last ventured into her room for conjugal purposes…not that she was counting. Nor did she blame him for his extended absence. In fact, she was surprised that it had taken him this long to see the truth of who she was: her flaws and shortcomings, the myriad ways in which she was no match for his shining perfection.
Yet things felt different tonight. For one thing, they were away from home. They were visiting Bottoms House, the country manor belonging to James’s brother and sister-in-law, Ethan and Xenia Harrington. While the guest bedchamber was well appointed, Evie yearned for her own room back at Grove Hall. Surrounded by her beloved plants and journals, she felt protected. Here, in this borrowed room, she felt the opposite: exposed and on edge.
Of course, the setting wasn’t the only thing out of the ordinary. Mere hours ago, she and James’s younger sister Gigi had been kidnapped. She herself had been held at gunpoint. To rescue her, James had been forced to take her captor’s life. His decisive action came as no surprise. He’d always been the steadfast eldest brother and heir, the one his family had counted upon during times of tragedy and disaster. He performed his duty so perfectly that it was easy to miss that it cost him.
Seeing the rigid expanse of his back, she drew a trembling breath.
Say something, you ninny. You’ve been a good companion, if not wife, to James…find your way back to that. If you don’t long for more than you can have, you will at least have something.
“Are you…are you all right?” Evie asked.
