Page 48 of The Haunted Duke

Helena looked surprised, and Evander smirked.

“You think I just ignored that part of your confession?” he asked, shaking his head. “I heard everything. And I promise you, I will make it stop.”

Evander emerged from the darkened library, surprised to see that the late afternoon had turned into evening. After stepping into his room to clean himself and change his clothes, he moved down the empty corridor with determination to find Jeremy and nearly collided with Adrian, Elara, and Damien as he rounded the corner.

“There you are, brother!” Elara said happily, throwing her arms around his neck. “We thought you retired early as well. Adrian was wondering what had become of parties nowadays.”

“Apparently, a man cannot even properly get drunk anymore without everyone vanishing by the second course,” Adrian said, shaking his head. “Whatever happened to commitment to a party?”

Evander’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he hugged his little sister back affectionately before he untangled himself from her arms and stepped back to look at each of their faces.

“Who else left the party?” he asked.

“Jeremy,” Damien answered, then chortled as he shook his head. “You should have seen Grandmama’s face when he told her he was leaving the party early. Helena disappeared as well, so I suppose they could have sneaked out together.”

Dismay and confusion filled Evander as he glanced around at the other guests, who seemed to still be enjoying the party despite their host’s early departure. In fact, no one besides Patricia seemed bothered that the future bride and groom were missing. He could see Patricia nearby pestering Mary-Anne about Helena, and he was close enough to hear Mary-Anne respond that Helena was kind enough to fetch her fan for her, and probably just needed a moment away from all the excitement.

He fought the urge to smile, thankful that his future mother-in-law was loyal enough to her daughter to make excuses for her extended absence.

“Have you caught your breath from the crowd, old boy?” Damien asked, drawing Evander back to their conversation.

“Well enough,” Evander replied, his eyes drawn to the grand staircase that would lead him to Jeremy’s room. “But I have a matter to discuss with Jeremy that is of great importance.”

“Oh, can it not wait?” Elara asked. “We have not yet talked, and I miss you. And so does Mama. We have been so worried since we came here. I cannot believe these two dolts sent you, of all people, to help Jeremy!”

“We sent him because he is the only one of us Jeremy still fears,” Damien said dryly. “Adrian only manages to frighten his own daughter.”

“She is very intimidating for someone so small,” Adrian protested.

Despite his need to hurry, Evander laughed softly and smiled at his sister as he cupped her cheek. Though it was Damien and Adrian who had first conducted the search for him years ago, it was Elara who had found him on that dreaded ship and brought him back to his family.

“We will speak,” he promised. “Let us break our fast tomorrow morning. But for now, I truly must go. Enjoy the rest of your evening, yes?”

Disappointment flittered through Elara’s eyes, but she nodded and stepped to the side so he could pass.

Evander winked at her, then gave a curt nod to Adrian and Damien before resuming his course to Jeremy’s rooms. Jeremy’s early retirement was not going to stop him, but it did make him curious.

Jeremy was never the first to leave a party.

After making it through a crowd of guests, Evander swiftly took the stairs up to the second floor, where Jeremy’s room was situated. He had his fist raised, ready to knock on the door, when an alarming sound gave him pause. It sounded like an argument.

“You cannot keep doing this to me,” a voice hissed. “Every time this woman is in the room, you forget I exist.”

“That is not true,” Jeremy shot back. “None of it is true. I came all the way back to London for you! You know why I must—”

“I know what you tell me. I do not know what to believe anymore.”

“Stop. Wait… no…” He heard Jeremy groan from the other side of the door.

It was followed by a guttural groan that made Evander forget his manners and shove the door open, fearing that someone—maybe even the person sending threatening letters—was attacking Jeremy.

He rushed in, fists raised and ready to fight off Jeremy’s attacker, and then stopped so suddenly that his upper body swayed from the sudden loss of momentum. Evander’s eyes grew wide, his head tilted to the side as he saw not a fight taking place, but another sort of wrestling altogether.

It took a moment to understand what he was seeing. When he did, he let out a loud cough, dragged his gaze from the two naked men on the bed to the red rug beneath his boots, and turned sharply around.

For a moment, no one breathed. Then the room erupted—the desk scraping, fabric snatched off the floor, boots hitting the wrong feet twice before finding the right ones. Jeremy’s voice cracked through it all.

“Evander, wait! It is not what you think!”