Page 63 of Her Devil of a Duke
“God damn it,” Rafe muttered as he waded through it all. It was like walking through thick water, the elements fighting against him. Ice flakes fell on his eyelashes, masking his view of the white world beyond. For one brief moment, Rafe was at least thankful for something in this weather. With such thick snow, it made the world light enough for him to see where he was going, despite the darkness.
“I’m coming, Evie,” he whispered aloud, his voice clear in his ears and drowning out the wind. “I’m coming.”
In the pocket of his frock coat, he felt Evelyn’s diary and where he had tucked it away. He tapped it a few times, holding onto the warm glow that had passed through him when he saw his face recreated on those pages.
She could love me. She could love me as I love her.
* * *
Evelyn pushed against the door.
“Let me pass,” she pleaded with Mr. Windham.
“No.” He moved to block the door. “Do you not realize what you are doing, Evelyn? You are drawing attention toward us.” He nodded at the room behind them.
Evelyn glanced away. As far as she could see, everyone was far too busy making merry. People were dancing and drinking, talking eagerly with those at their side. They were all far too distracted to care about or pay attention to the fact that Evelyn was trying to leave the room.
At a distance, she caught sight of Hester and Simon together as they took to the dance floor. Such a smile appeared on Hester’s lips that Evelyn felt a mixture of feelings warring within her. The first was happiness for her cousin – utter delight that Hester was to marry for love. Yet that feeling was mixed with ugly envy.
Hester had the good fortune to live with loving parents, have caring sisters, and marry a man she loved. Evelyn could never have any of those things.
“Let me have this one thing,” Evelyn pleaded again, now more determined than before. She stepped subtly on Mr. Windham’s foot, surprising him so much that he winced and released the door. It gave her the escape she needed, and she darted out of the ballroom.
Evelyn hurried down the snow-clad garden path, dashing past the high wall of yew bushes on one side, and heading toward the back of the house. The sounds of the ball became muted, and behind her, she heard the firm crunching footsteps on the patio of Mr. Windham, following her.
“Evelyn?” he demanded, with his voice shrill. “Come back here at once!”
“In case my mad run has not clued you in, allow me to explain. I have no intention of adhering to your orders. Contrary to your belief, I am not a mouse at your beck and call,” she cast the words over her shoulder as she rounded the house.
The yew bushes fell away, and the path turned into a stone terrace with a great balustrade, overlooking the formal garden borders like a balcony.
“Evelyn! You are my betrothed and you will be my wife. You will adhere to my orders.” He caught hold of the skirts of her dress and pulled her back sharply.
“Ah!” she yelped in shock, reaching out for the balustrade with two hands. Her fingers grazed the coarse stone as she scrambled to get away from him.
“Or have you forgotten something?” Mr. Windham now latched onto her elbow, pulling her sharply back against him. “When we marry, you will make the vow to obey.”
“I will not mean it. Not in my heart.” She tried to stamp down on his foot again, but he’d wised up to the tactic now and managed to move his foot away in time. The shifting of his body gave her enough wriggle room to pull herself away from him though.
She stumbled down the icy terrace, gripping to the wall beside her and using it to help her stay straight as she glared back at Mr. Windham.
“I have stood beside you for the last hour as you have introduced yourself as my betrothed. I ask for five minutes alone, and yet you will not give me that? After I am being pressured into giving you my entire life? Have you no honor? No humanity? No heart at all?” she hissed at him.
“Do you hear yourself?” He laughed just once, shaking his head. “You’re becoming hysterical, Evelyn. I won’t stand for this once we are wed. Continue in this vein, and I’ll have to consider that my house might not be the best place for you. I’ll have to consider Bedlam instead.”
Evelyn backed up further, feeling so sickened and nauseous that she feared she’d have to see the food she had eaten that day all over again.
He would send me to Bedlam? He’d put me in an asylum just to escape me?
“You have no heart at all,” she muttered in a low tone. “You snake. You devil. You bast–”
She didn’t get to finish the word as he veered pointedly for her and snatched up the wrist she had planted against the wall to steady herself, gripping it between them as he shook her whole body with that grasp.
“No more of this, Evelyn. No more,” he warned darkly. “You wish to stay out of Bedlam? Then you will come back into the ballroom now. You will follow my orders. Is that understood?”
“Mr. Wind–”
“The next word I hear out of your mouth will be a ‘yes.’ It will be nothing else.” He towered over her, his fingers tightening around her wrist in such a way that she was forced to bend forward with it as he pulled her down. He was making her smaller, forcing her to be weak before him. Her stomach knotted in such a way that her hand flexed, desperate to escape him as the pain shot up into her elbow. “Say ‘yes,’ Evelyn.”
