“Miss Thorncroft!” she cried.
“Mmmrpph?” Evie replied, startled by the intrusion. She spat out the pins. “Hannah, what is it?” She took in the streaks of dirt on Hannah’s apron, and mob cap sitting askew on the side of the maid’s head. “What on earth happened?”
“It was Drufus, Miss Thorncroft.” Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes as her hands knotted beneath her chin. “I didn’t know he was outside.”
“Who is Drufus?” Evie asked blankly. “One of the guests?” Her voice rose to a shrill, indignant pitch. “Did one of theguestsdo this to you?”
“No, Miss Thorncroft. Drufus is Lady Brynne’shound.”
And Hannah had been walking Posy.
“Oh no,” Evie whispered as horrific images filled her head. Tiny and defenseless, the lamb wouldn’t have stood a chance against a large dog. “Oh, Hannah, don’t tell me–”
“What is going on in here?” Weston demanded as his large, rangy frame filled the doorway. He was dressed in gray trousers and a shirt that was only partially unbuttoned, his black hair damp and curling at the ends. “I thought I heard a shout.”
“It’s Posy,” Evie said, her eyes stinging as she met Weston’s gaze. There was a terrible wrenching in her chest, the same kind she’d felt when she had happened to glance out the window and saw four solemn-faced soldiers marching up with the drive…carrying a wooden casket between them. Before they reached the door, she knew. She knew what they were going to say. She knew who the casket contained. Just as she knew that her lamb, like her father, was gone.
And it was foolish to feel this way about a pet when she’d struggled to express her grief over a person. But she had loved Posy. In the same unfettered, careless way that she’d loved father. Careless not because she hadn’t cared. But because she’d taken every day with him for granted, as if his presence in her life would never falter. As if his time with her would never end. As if there was always going to be a tomorrow.
Then he’d died. Their tomorrowhadended. And with the exception of her sisters and her grandmother, she’d never allowed herself to love like that again. Until she and Weston had stumbled upon an orphaned lamb crying for its mother…and her heart, closed all these years without her even realizing it, had cracked wide open.
“What about Posy?” Weston strode into the bedchamber. Ignoring Hannah, he went straight to Evie and cupped her cheek, his gray gaze intently searching hers. “What is it, Evelyn?”
Later, she would recognize that it was the first time he’d used her Christian name. But in the moment, her misery was too great to notice such small details. “Hannah was taking her for a morning walk. And…and there was a dog. A hound.”
“Drufus.” The earl closed his eyes. “He’s a bloody nuisance, but mostly harmless. Except when he comes across small game. Evelyn…I am so very sorry.”
As a single tear trickled across her cheek, she burrowed her face into chest. “She was only a baby.”
“Actually–” Hannah began.
“I’ll find you another lamb.” Weston wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her in a sturdy, protective embrace. “We can go today. Right this minute. We’ll get two, if you like. Three even. We’ll fill the damned drawing room with lambs. Just…just don’t cry.”
“I don’t wantanotherlamb,” she said, indignant that he would even dare suggest such a thing. “I want Posy.”
“Pardon me,” Hannah began, “but–”
“If I could bring her back for you, I would,” Weston said huskily, stroking her back. “But find comfort in knowing her last few days were filled with adoration and kindness and warm bottles.”
Therewascomfort to be found in that, but not enough to lighten the weight of all the anguish pressing on her shoulders. Distantly, she wondered how Posy’s death could cause such sorrow. But then, like water flowing down a mountain, so did grief run through everything.
The pain of loss had no beginning, no end. It could be suppressed, but never forgotten. And as she mourned the loss of a lamb, Evie instinctively sensed it wasn’t just Posy that she was grieving. And the Earl of Hawkridge wasn’t the only one who had staved off his suffering by surrounding himself in ice.
How hard she’d work to convince herself not to believe in love! She’d even tried to push Joanna into the same mindset, demanding that her sister marry a local suitor not because shelovedhim, but because she did not. And if something perilous had ever happened to Charles Gaines, there would be sadness, but no heartbreak.
It was why…it was why Evie had pursued Weston. To make herself a countess, and get her mother’s ring, yes. Those were the reasons she’d maintained on the surface. But the sudden loss of Posy forced her to dive deeper…and in those murky, turbulent waters, she faced the truth.
She had wanted Weston because she never truly thought she’d ever fall in love with him.
And now she wanted him because she had.
Even if it meant risking this terrible agony should he ever leave her.
“I should like a small memorial in Posy’s honor,” she said hollowly. “I know it probably sounds absurd, but a white stone, or a wooden marker–”
“Anything,” Weston said instantly.
Lifting her head, she managed to smile through her tears. He was showing such a sweet side of himself. She’d suspected he was capable of such tenderness. No man who carried a lamb nestled in his arms for an untold number of miles could beallstrength and stone. But to have such gentleness directed straight at her…was there any doubt why her frozen heart had melted for this man?
