“It is the after-effects of the night’s violence,” he kept his tone tranquil. “It will pass.”
“I—I shot him,” her words were strangled.
“Yes, and quite possibly saved all our lives,” Dorian assured her. “Yer incomparable, sweetheart. You did bloody well. I hadn’t remembered the pistol, Evelina, and I am relieved you got it before those blackguards could. When I saw Benedict getting attacked, instinct took over, and I leaped in with my fists.”
She tucked her face into the crook of his neck and jaw. “You helped him.”
“Yes. Surprised me too,” he murmured. “I suppose a part of me remembered the boy he used to be. Benedict was smaller than me, even in those years, and I would protect him at Eton. Instinct must have just flooded in.”
Evelina closed her eyes, “I cannot get the image of him out of my mind.”
“It’ll fade,” he said. “Eventually.”
The carriage turned off to a drive in Grosvenor Square, when Evelina asked, “Where are we going?”
“One of my townhouses,” he replied. “I think it's best if we avoid the manor house for the night and return to Somerton tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’re safe here.”
Pulling away, she blinked up at him, her sooty lashes fluttering. Uncertainty flitted through her eyes, making his gut twist… with shame. Of late, he’d been a bastard to her, and he knew it. The lies, the deceptions, all of it.
I’ll make it right soon. I promise.
The carriage came to a halt at the townhouse. Before alighting, Dorian took out a keychain from a box under the seats; it contained a myriad of keys. He descended first, then stepped out and helped Evelina down. She gazed at the nondescript townhouse, the front façade as uniform as the others surrounding it.
He saw her head swing from left to right as they stepped into the elegant and fashionable antechamber. The marble floors and rosewood paneling gleamed, and the scent of lemon polish mingled with smoke from the banked fire.
“Is it only us?” she asked when no staff came to meet them.
“Yes,” he nodded. “For tonight, at least. If we do need to stay, I’ll call some from the manor house. Go into one of the bedrooms, you can choose any you’d like. I’ll make your bath and gather some food for us. The staff always makes sure the cupboards are stocked.”
“I—” she looked around, “I don’t have any clothes here.”
“You do,” he said. “Check the drawers.”
As she went off to the rooms, Dorian locked the doors, slid the bolt in place, and then headed to the bathing room. A perk with this townhouse was that he’d fitted it with the newest plumbing, so water came in directly from the pipes.
He began filling the tub with water and scented oils before going off in search of some food.
While puttering about in the kitchen, Dorian assembled a platter of cold meats, cheeses, and fruit. With everything set neatly on the dining table, he went to a nearby window, dropped his hands on the sill, and waited for Evelina.
The moment his mind was no longer immediately occupied, apprehension and rage filled Dorian’s veins.
This wasbad.Edgar was either ready to attack or he was pulling up the stakes to run. The damnedest thing of it all was that Dorian could not find him first. How was he to intercept the man, whether in offence or to defend himself and his wife, if he had not the faintest of where the man resided?
He knew the key to all of this was Sterling; if he could get into that safe Evelina had informed him of, the chances of finding that old bastard would rise immensely. Hunching over, he scolded himself. He had gotten distracted from his objective for far too long and now put his wife at risk.
“Dorian?”
Dorian turned from the window to see Ellie slipping into the room, clad in a deep velvet robe. Her damp hair was down and around her shoulders and back in a wild tangle.
He pushed away to unearth a bottle of wine from another cupboard. Rounding the table, he enveloped her in his arms. “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded and kissed his cheek. “Yes. Thank you for finding something to eat for us, but I think I just want to lie down for now. With you. Please.”
“Evelina, you need to eat something,” he chided gently.
She shook her head. “I have no appetite. Maybe later. Please—” she drew away from him, but held his hand and pulled him forward. “Please.”
Sighing, he covered the food and allowed her to tug him into the room. Craning his head to the washing room, he said, “Let me clean up for a moment. I’ll be right with you.”
