Page 103 of Desperate Proposals
For a lingering moment they held one another’s gaze, the draft from the open door chilling Evelyn in her loose morning gown, the immense emotions paralyzing her where she stood. In the distance, she heard a bird cry out across the winter morning.
Finally Marcus stepped forward, reaching out to cup her cheek.
Evelyn’s eyes fluttered closed. A million words tumbled about her mind, none of them the proper ones.
“Goodbye, my darling,” he whispered. “It shan’t be as long as last time.”
He leaned in and placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth.
And then he was off. Down the stairs, into the carriage. Evelyn stared after him. Without thinking, her feet took her outside, to wait at the top of the stairs.
When she finally came to, the carriage was well down the drive, a tiny ant in the distance. It was positively frigid out, she realized, and she brought her arms up, crossing them over her chest as she looked out at the horizon.
“Ma’am?” Gill asked from the door. “You’ll catch your death out here, dressed like this.”
“Oh,” Evelyn murmured, and blinked. “Of course.”
She’d barely made it half a dozen steps inside when the sound of the door shutting behind her set something off within her. Something wild and unhinged. Her eyes burned.
She picked up her step, rushing down the hall and up the stairs. The sound of her heartbeat pounded in her head when the tears finally came. She wrenched open the nearest door and stumbled into the library, only just managing to close the door behind her before the first sob escaped her lips. Flinging herself upon a green sofa, she buried her face in her hands and allowed herself to cry as she hadn’t cried since was a small girl.
Marcus had left. Yes, it was at the bidding of his party leadership and against his own will, but all the same, he was gone and she was without him. Without having told him how dear he was to her. How she’d come to depend on him, to rely upon his comfort and support. She released another sob, her body shuddering from the force of it, succumbing to the towering waves of emotion and allowing herself to go under.
Soon, though, her dripping nose won out. She sniffled, and searched about her person for a handkerchief.
“Here,” a detached voice said from behind. “Take mine.”
Evelyn nearly leapt out of her skin as a bolt of terror burst through her. Behind her, standing before a bookcase, was her sister-in-law, wearing a somber face and holding out a handkerchief.
“Selina!” Evelyn cried out, wiping hastily at her cheeks. “I thought you were still—my word, you scared the dickens out of me!”
“Please, take it,” Selina urged, taking a few more cautious steps forward. “I haven’t used it, believe it or not.”
Glancing back hesitantly, Evelyn finally reached out and grabbed it, then turned away and did her best to mop herself up. Why, she must look downrightghastly. Still, the humiliation of being discovered in her current state paled against the despair she felt at Marcus leaving.
“What is it?”
“I’m quite well, thank you.” Evelyn lifted the handkerchief and did her best to be discreet as she blew her nose. It didn’t work; the sound was thunderous.
“Is it Mr. Hartley?” Selina asked.
“Marriage is quite simple,” Evelyn said shakily, “when one knows exactly what the arrangements are to be. It was explicitly agreed upon that I would remain here when Mr. Hartley is needed in London, within reason. So, I am perfectly fine with him having left.”
“Of course,” Selina said, her tone measured.
It was nonsense. Evelyn knew it, and she knew that Selina knew it. Providing clearly false reassurances regarding her mental state had been hammered into her as a girl, along with all the other rubbish that was supposed to mold her into an acceptable wife. But she hadn’t turned out acceptable to anyone. Not even Rowland, in the end. Only Marcus.
Marcus Hartley and his shaggy hair and lamentable manners.
“But—and beg your pardon, but I must say it—you look positively beside yourself,” said Selina.
Evelyn shook her head, but Selina had already resumed speaking.
“Why, I’d thought you completely incapable of any sort of human feeling. You seemed not to care a whit when Edmund passed—”
“I expressly stated my extreme—” Evelyn turned around, indignant, but Selina waved her off.
“Oh hush, you know as well as I that you Wolfendens are all blocks of ice.” She bit her lower lip and looked sorrowfully to the side. “All except Edmund, that is.” After a heavy moment, her gaze drifted back to Evelyn and she tilted her head, curious. “And yet here you are, brought to your knees, overcome at the thought of this barrister—”
