“But, why?” Elara insisted, growing more frustrated by the moment. “What is it that he has done that would put me in the danger the three of you allude to?”
Damien’s dark brows furrowed.
“The three of us?” he questioned.
“Yes. You, Adrian, and now Constantine. He will only tell me that Evander ruined his younger brother Augustus, nothing more,” Elara stated.
Damien’s brows drew up in surprise.
“Well, it seems Adrian might have a reason to like Constantine after all,” he murmured.
Frustrated, Elara tsked her tongue and pushed Damien’s shoulder.
“I deserve answers, Damien, you know I do,” she insisted. “I am not fragile like Mama. I can handle the truth.”
Another flicker of pity moved through Damien’s eyes. She was starting to hate it.
“Tell me this at least,” she sighed. “Do you think that it is possible that I am right? That he may possibly still be alive?”
“In my personal opinion? Yes. There was no body recovered. No body that the constables or the coroner would allow your brother to identify, anyway.”
A flutter of hope moved through Elara’s chest, and she reached out to place her hands over Damien’s.
“Then please. If you believe I am right, talk to me. Tell me something about Evander,” she pleaded.
As Elara looked at the rugged, handsome planes of the man she had come to love like a third brother, she realized she had never seen him so uneasy before. What secrets did he hide? What cruel deeds had he witnessed Evander commit?
“I will say this, Elara,” Damien began after a moment. “Evander had a very strict moral compass—one that most society men ignore. As noblemen, there are certain laws that such men feel they can overlook because of their breeding. Evander participated in some, yes, such as gambling. However, therewere others—many others—that he took great offense to being broken. Laws that, as the authorities looked the other way, Evander refused to do so, and would take matters into his own hands.”
Elara’s eyes narrowed as she took in Damien’s words.
“You make him sound as if he were some sort of vigilante,” she replied.
“In a way,” he acquiesced. “However, the nobles have their own unwritten laws, and how Evander acted broke many of them. It earned him many enemies. Dare I say more enemies than friends by the time he... went missing.”
Though Elara was grateful Damien made the distinction between dead and missing, she was still unsatisfied.
“I feel as if you are speaking in riddles,” she said in an exasperated tone.
“And I feel that I have already said too much,” Damien stated, rising from his seat.
Elara rose as well, ready to grab his arm and demand he stay. Before she could even get to her feet, however, she felt a warmth prickle over her neck, and the air in the room shifted.
“Please, Ravenshaw,” Constantine’s deep voice filled the room. “Do not leave on my account.
Elara jumped to her feet and whirled, only to find her husband standing in the doorway, his expression as dark and angry as a storm cloud.
“Your Grace,” Elara whispered.
Butterflies erupted in her stomach the moment she saw him. Even when angry, he was still annoyingly handsome. He had taken off his jacket and cravat, leaving him in a plain white dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms, and the top buttons were undone, exposing a deep V of bare, muscled flesh and a tuft of brown hair for all to see. She bit her bottom lip, surprised by how much she enjoyed such a sight.
“No need,” Damien answered, staring hard back at Constantine. “I was just taking my leave.”
“Such a late hour for visitors, is it not?” Constantine asked, strolling into the room.
The butterflies in Elara’s stomach ceased at once, replaced quickly with annoyance.
“Damien and I bumped into one another as I was leaving Caroline’s,” she stated icily. “He was kind enough to walk me home. I offered him a cup of tea for his trouble.”
