As he’d observed the banter and intimacy between the other couples, a chilly awareness had percolated through him. He had been deceiving himself…for years. He’d told himself that he and Evie had what the others had: their version of love was merely more private. He’d convinced himself that, because Evie was shy when it came to personal matters, she felt what she might not say aloud.
She expressed affection in her own way. By running his home with smooth competence. By being a good companion. By supporting him when his youngest brother Owen had returned from the Afghan war a different man—a man haunted by demons that had hurt others, Ethan most grievously. As hard as James tried, there had been naught he could do to help his brothers mend fences. Nor could he ease the suffering of his other family members, who had felt the pain of Owen and Ethan’s estrangement keenly.
James’s failure had filled him with guilt and frustration. If it hadn’t been for Evie, for her steady presence and calm counsel, he would have been rudderless in a stormy sea. He’d been infinitely grateful, and her patience and care had felt to him like love. So what if she seldom said those three little words so commonly associated with devotion? He’d told himself that that was what words were: common.
During the two tumultuous affairs he’d had as a bachelor, the phrase “I love you” had been bandied about—by the women and, he’d acknowledged with embarrassment, by him. He’d said them because that seemed to be the expectation…to be part of the game that his lovers had enjoyed playing. In the end, the words had meant nothing: they were a cheap and trite approximation of the real thing.
Behavior was what counted. With Evie, he’d persuaded himself that he had found true substance. Her actions demonstrated her love for him. They had a genuine bond, the kind that kept a couple together through thick and thin, through sickness and health. And that was enough.
But it’s not. It never has been. I’ve been pulling the wool over my own bloody eyes.
The realization staggered him. It also ripped off the blinders he’d donned for the better part of the year. The truth was Evie had abandoned the pretense of having any interest in him or their life together. She had withdrawn so completely that she was a mere shadow in their marriage. His rationale that her behavior was a natural reaction to grief still held…but for God’s sake, it had to end sometime. Enough was enough.
“I thought you had a megrim,” he said.
“I, um, did.” She bit her lip. “I thought work might prove a distraction.”
“Of course.” He didn’t hide his bitterness. “You find joy in your experiments, but entertaining the family is an obligation. You must suffer through their company until you can make your escape.”
“No. That’s not it at all?—”
“Then tell me how it is, Evie.”
He gave her the challenging stare that he usually reserved for political rivals who argued for the status quo. Who buried their heads in the sand and refused to acknowledge the winds of change.
“Tell me,” he repeated. “Mama is so concerned that she sent me to check up on you. However, I find you not in your bedchamber but here—buried in your blasted journal instead of carrying out your duties as the lady of the house. Is spending time with the family that repugnant to you?”
The memory of his mama’s troubled expression scalded his throat.
“Something is amiss with Evie,” she’d said. “I know how much you value privacy, dearest, but I must ask: are the two of you experiencing some sort of difficulty? You can talk to me about it…or Papa, of course. As he and I have been married for millennia, we have considerable expertise when it comes to marital spats.”
His mama’s attempt at lightheartedness hadn’t dimmed James’s humiliation. He’d thought that his personal problems were inconspicuous—that no one was aware of the distance between him and Evie. Yet Mama had noticed their unhappiness, a fact she’d undoubtedly shared with Papa. Perhaps his siblings also suspected that something was rotten in the state of his marriage.
As the heir, James was supposed to be the role model. Leadership had always come naturally for him, and he’d prided himself on following in his father’s footsteps and setting a good example for his brothers. To know that his failure was obvious to one and all came as a nasty blow.
“How could you even suggest such a thing? I like your family…very much. You know that.”
Evie’s gaze swam. It took every ounce of his willpower not to cave to her pleading expression. His reflex was to smooth things over—to not press her further when it caused her obvious discomfort. Yet what had leaving Evie to her own devices achieved thus far? To his irritation, he saw that her hand remained protectively upon her closed journal, a gesture that conveyed her priorities.
He shook his head in disgust. “I am beginning to think I do not know you at all.”
“What…what do you mean?”
Her bottom lip trembled, and he recalled how full and plush it had felt when he’d licked it. When she’d kissed him after the kidnapping as if her life depended upon it...as if she’d genuinely wanted him. The bolt of lust made him angrier. He’d been trying his damnedest to make their marriage work, yet Evie seemed unaware…or indifferent. It was like trying to waltz with a partner who dragged her feet getting to the dance floor.
“Let us give up the pretense,” he said sharply. “I have been coddling you for the past year. Since we lost the babe.”
Her sharp inhalation stabbed him with guilt, but he was done with allowing her to hide. With pretending that everything was as it should be when nothing—not one bloody thing—was right between them.
“I understand the loss was difficult. However, you cannot avoid me and our life because of it. I will not allow it.”
The tears she’d held back slipped down her cheeks, making him feel like a veritable scoundrel. Every gentlemanly instinct demanded that he stand down—that he retreat and give her the space to manage her emotions in private.
“You will not allow it?” she echoed.
“It has been a year.” He tried softening his stance. “These things happen, and we must move forward. We are young, Evie, and have a future ahead of us?—”
“We have no future.”
