He hurled the crumpled note. Dragging his hands through his hair, he forced himself to calm down. Not the easiest thing to do when his urge was to drive his fist into the wall. Yet that would require an explanation to his family as to why he’d damaged his brother’s property, and he would rather face a firing squad than endure the humiliation.
Like solitaire, rejection was meant to be a solo sport. It took several breaths, but James restored his composure…and his pride. If Evie wanted to act as if last night hadn’t happened, then he would oblige her. If she didn’t give a damn about their relationship, then neither would he.
If a bloodless marriage is what you want, wife, then by Jove, that is what you shall have.
Jaw clenched, he yanked on the bell to summon his valet. The pull tore, leaving him holding a piece of frayed rope. He tossed it aside with a snarl, pulled on his robe, and stalked off in search of Robson.
Chapter Three
“Wake up, lambkin.”
At the familiar voice, Evie opened her eyes. Her cheek was pillowed by her folded arms. The pale petals of a wallflower came into focus. Next to the potted bloom lay the small gold spectacles she used for reading. The familiar fragrance of damp earth and crisp foliage tickled her nose and confirmed where she was. She must have fallen asleep while working in the greenhouse again, as she had most nights since leaving James a week ago. Lifting her head, she winced at the crick in her neck.
“Good morning, Harkness,” she said, yawning.
Her former nurse, now her companion, had always gone by “Harkness.” The absence of an honorific suited Harkness’s no-nonsense style and ambiguous position in the household. Having raised Evie’s mama and then Evie, Harkness was a retainer whose selfless service transcended that of a common servant. For years, she’d been Evie’s only family.
Since James had insisted upon hiring Evie a proper lady’s maid, Harkness now functioned as a companion. Tall and wiry, the latter was like old fencing twisted by time, bending more with each year, yet standing strong. Her salt-and-pepper hair was scraped back from her forehead and formed into steely springs. History was deeply etched upon her narrow face, and her black gaze was a vault of confidences.
Stifling another yawn, Evie asked, “What time is it?”
“It is past eight, pet. When you didn’t ring for breakfast, I knew you’d fallen asleep working as usual.” Clucking, Harkness draped the velvet cloak she’d brought over Evie’s shoulders. “How many times have I told you to have a care? You’ll catch your death of cold in this place.”
“Since Manderly hired Sir Paxton and his team to install the new heating system, the greenhouse has been consistently temperate.”
James had built the octagonal building for her, and it was a marvel. Slender wrought-iron ribs held the glass walls and ceiling in place, creating an ambiance so light and airy that it felt like being outdoors. Raised boxes and ornamental planters held a variety of plants that Evie grew for study and for pleasure. She waved now at the row of prized potted Ananas comosus, another gift from her generous husband.
“If an exotic species like the pineapple can thrive in this clime, then a sturdy domestic breed like me will surely survive a night or two.”
Harkness snorted. “Plants are your specialty, lambkin. My specialty is you. I’ve not forgotten that time you caught a chill. You were barely seven, and those coughing fits wracked your poor wee body. You couldn’t sleep or keep anything down. Your mama was terrified that every breath would be your last. She summoned the best quacks in the county, but all they did was stroke their beards and mutter dire predictions.”
Evie hid a smile, for this story was like a favorite old blanket—one that wore well and comforted, despite its many tellings. Though her four-and-twenty years had been marked by ordeals, it soothed her to know that someone had always looked over her.
“Luckily for me, you knew what to do,” she prompted.
“Aye.” Harkness drew herself up proudly. “I had the footmen carry up a tub of hot water, and I sat in it, holding you, a blanket draped over the both of us to hold in the steam. I didn’t sleep for two days and nights, until the steam finally cleared your little lungs, and you could breathe freely once more.”
“What would I do without you?”
Hopping off the stool, Evie fondly squeezed her companion’s arm, which felt like iron encased in black bombazine.
“You’ll never have to find out,” Harkness vowed. “No matter what his lordship has to say on the matter.”
Evie knitted her brows. From the start, James and Harkness had taken an active dislike of each other. Nothing she said or did could change their mutual animosity.
She strove for a neutral stance. “Manderly knows how important you are to me. He wouldn’t dream of separating us.”
In truth, James had been more than patient when it came to dealing with her companion. Harkness could be as prickly and tough as a gooseberry bush when it came to people she didn’t like. Yet with Evie, the tartness of Harkness’s personality was tempered by the sweetness of her care.
“If that were true, his lordship would not have ordered me to stay here instead of accompanying you to Chudleigh Bottoms.” Harkness raised her chin. “I should have been by your side, protecting you. If I had been there?—”
“You could not have prevented the kidnapping.” Evie cut her off. “You could not have fought off a gang of cutthroats, dear. You would have been hurt—or kidnapped along with me and Gigi.”
“At least I could have looked after you.”
“Dear Harkness.” Evie’s smile held a touch of wistfulness. “You have always protected me. At some point, I shall have to fend for myself.”
“You’ve been fending for yourself all your life,” Harkness said darkly. “My poor lamb, always prey to the worst of predators.”
