He turned slightly away, hoping—despite everything—that she might understand. A thin, incredulous breath escaped her.
“Son! What madness is this? I declare—that womanhas turned your mind to folly.”
Sebastian stilled. If she had struck him, he could not have been more shocked. He faced her fully, and whatever she saw in his expression robbed her of her next words.
“Mother,” he said, very steady, “that woman, as you call her, is the most precious part of my life. I will not have you speak of her with contempt.”
“Contempt?” she cried. “I elevate her beyond her due merely by speaking of her. She isnothing—the disgraced daughter of some insignificant viscount who ought never to have been admitted to this house.”
“Enough!” Sebastian’s voice cracked like a whip.
She stopped and stared blankly at him in utter astonishment. Sebastian turned to face her.
“I will not hear such slander. If you do not wish to share the roof with Evelyn, then I suggest that you move to the house on Ellwood Place.” It was a small house, a short ride from the estate, purchased by his grandfather with the intention of Grandmama occupying it after he passed away. Grandmama had been very fond of the house, which was small, but comfortable and well-appointed.
“Sebastian…” she began, a tremor of disbelief running through the single word.
He shook his head. “Mama, please. I do not wish for an argument. But Icannotcontinue as we have—enduring deceit, and watching you wound Evelyn again and again. It must end. I would have you go to Ellwood Place. It is best for us both. Perhaps, in time, we will find our way back to better understanding.”
She stared at him, her expression a muddle of affront, confusion, and something that—had it appeared earlier—might have resembled hurt. He looked away. Hurting her had always pained him, but that instinct had been used to govern him for far too long. He could not allow guilt to unman him now. Not when the peace of his home—and the dignity of his wife—hung upon it.
“As you wish,” his mother said at last, her tone prim and thin.
“It will be best,” Sebastian murmured.
“Very well.”
His mother said nothing more, only turned and strode from the room. Sebastian remained where he was for a few moments, unsure of what to say or do. The silence was cold and empty, and he turned away, heading up the hallway again.
“I did it,” he said wearily to Nicholas as he entered the drawing room. “I confronted her about it.”
“Truly?” Nicholas gazed at him, surprised. “Whatever happened?”
“Mama was… not exactly sorry,” Sebastian replied, gaze lowering. He swallowed. Her utter lack of remorse troubled him far more deeply than her anger ever had.
“I cannot claim surprise,” Nicholas said gently. “But I am sorry.”
Sebastian nodded once. “I need to rest. It was not an easy confrontation.”
“I imagine not,” Nicholas answered with quiet compassion. “If you wish, I can inform William and Gemma of the situation.”
“Please,” Sebastian murmured. “And thank you, Nicholas. Truly. You did me a great service in bringing me the truth.”
Nicholas inclined his head, something tender and relieved flickering through his eyes. “Thank you, brother. I am glad you see it so.”
Sebastian had no more words. When the silence settled comfortably between them, he excused himself and turned toward the staircase.
He wished to find Evelyn—to tell her everything, to draw her into his arms, to let the comfort of her presence ease the rawness of the morning.
That was all he needed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Evelyn looked up from the book on her lap where she sat, shaded by the trees. The sound that disturbed her was the rumble of wheels on the drive; an unmarked coach was rattling down the path. She had not been expecting visitors. Exhaustion still weighed upon her, and she had spent the morning between her chamber and the garden, sleeping, reading, and trying to recover from the ordeal of the capture. The beauty and joy of being reunited with Sebastian softened the memory of her fear, but her body still insisted on rest. She had slept until nine o’clock and, finding Sebastian occupied, had come outside—hoping, too, to avoid his mother’s persecuting comments.
The coach rolled to a stop, and she blinked in surprise to see James at the window.
“Evelyn! Thank heavens!” he exclaimed. He jumped down from the coach and ran to her, throwing his arms around her. “I am so glad that you are well. Mama was frantic.”
