Page 93 of Desperate Proposals
Her husband took the bottle and tumbler from the stunned maid, then poured himself a generous portion. Setting the bottle upon the butcher’s block behind him, he threw back the glass, consuming its entire contents in one pull.
“We were just drinking to Mr. Wright’s new position, as it were,” he explained, pinning the butler with a deathly serious glare.
Sarah’s eyes widened.
Selina’s sobs halted abruptly; she broke free from Evelyn, then turned away and folded into herself.
It felt as though everyone in the room, and indeed the house itself, held their breath. The very air crackled with dislike, anger, and disappointment.
Evelyn could not fathom it. Wright! Wright, who had once chased a bird from the yellow bedroom. Who possessed such a soft and yielding footfall as he moved about the manor. Who had so delicately informed the assembled family of Edmund’s passing.
The last of those memories was the most galling. Had he been carrying on with Selina even then? Evelyn felt overwhelmed, unable to make heads or tails of anything. Anger rose withinher, tightening her throat. She must release them all from this misery.
“Please, take the evening to pack,” she said to Wright. “Sarah, inform Mrs. Marsh that Wright will be leaving us this evening. Perhaps Robert might take over his duties for the moment.”
The scullery maid gave a brief nod before turning tail and escaping.
Evelyn lifted her chin. “And as for the question of…” She paused and swallowed, her eyelashes fluttering in distaste over what she was about to say. “Compensation. You will be paid the rest of the month’s wages. Nothing less, nothing more.”
“Are you so sure about that, Miss Wolfenden?” Wright charged forward, brushing past Selina without even a glance.
“It’s Mrs. Hartley,” Evelyn said. “And I certainly hope you’re not suggesting anything untoward. It would be a…” She was scrambling now, searching for information and words she wasn’t sure she even possessed. But she maintained her bluff, bolstered by the righteous anger coursing through her veins. “A problem, I’m sure, if someone were to catch wind of your attempts to bribe a member of Parliament. A problem of larger… national interest. Wouldn’t you think?”
Wright froze. He looked warily at Mr. Hartley.
Selina sniffled.
“No,” the butler finally said. “I don’t believe you. You Wolfendens,” he scoffed. “You’re all woolly-headed, dumber than a bag of—”
He never had a chance to finish the insult. For Mr. Hartley punched him, square on the jaw.
Wright stumbled backward, hissing a string of curses. Selina shrieked and ran to him, but he batted her away, causing her howls to intensify as he jilted her yet again.
“Marcus!” Evelyn exclaimed, appalled. “You hit him! The situation called for nothing so… ludicrous and… impertinentand… violent as that and… and…” Her hands fluttered about, not knowing where to rest or what to do.
Thankfully, her husband did. Without taking his eyes from the retreating form of Wright, he reached for her, tugging her up alongside him and placing a kiss atop her head. There was a time when Evelyn would have rather died than be handled so familiarly, especially in the presence of others. Now she wasn’t quite sure that she hadn’t died already, with the nonsensical events of the past hour being her own private purgatory.
“Of course it did,” he said cheerfully, even as Selina continued to weep openly. “For you just called me by my name. And if this is what had to happen to bring that about, then so be it.”
He punctuated his glib statement with another kiss, this one rudely loud against her cheek. Evelyn huffed in irritation. But inside, that familiar warmth was spreading. She felt pride. And, dare she say it, affection.
And then, suddenly, pressure began building around her eyes. No. She wouldnever. Not like this. Not here. Not ever. Desperate to stop it in its tracks, she quickly wriggled away from his hold and returned to Selina’s side.
Wright had slunk away, hopefully to begin packing his things. Evelyn prayed she would never set eyes upon him again.
Reaching within her skirts, she withdrew a neatly folded handkerchief; truly, it was the only tidy thing about her at the moment.
“Hush now,” she tried, patting Selina’s back. She felt so strangely incapable, but still she continued. “All will be well.”
Selina held the handkerchief up between her eyes, shielding herself from Evelyn’s sight.
“How can it? Edmund is dead,” she whispered.
Evelyn did not know what to say to that.
Selina crumpled, falling upon her sister-in-law. Evelyn pressed her lips in a line. She looked up to her husband, standing several steps away.
What was that look upon his face? Sympathy? Or was it something deeper, more emotional? Evelyn did not know. She slid one arm around Selina while still holding his gaze, unable to look away.
