Page 53 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
Chastity’s arms uncrossed, her hands trembling at her sides. “You hurt me,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “and I don’t know if I can ever forget that.”
Wellford’s shoulders sagged, but he stepped closer, his voice fervent. “Then let me spend my life making it up to you. Let me prove that I can be the man you deserve.”
Minerva’s breath caught as she watched her sister, waiting, hoping. Chastity’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned to Minerva, searching her face for some kind of assurance.
Minerva met her gaze, her own voice gentle but firm. “It wasn’t your fault, Chastity. It was mine. I was so afraid of losing you to scandal that I tried to control everything. But I won’t stand in the way of your happiness anymore.”
Chastity’s lip trembled, and something in her gaze softened. She looked back at Wellford, and the hope that had been buried under layers of hurt began to surface. Her voice wavered, but it carried a hint of longing. “Do you really mean it?” she asked, her eyes searching his.
Wellford stepped forward, his expression raw and earnest. “With everything I am,” he vowed.
A sob broke from Chastity’s lips, and she closed the distance between them, tears spilling over as Wellford caught her in his arms. Minerva’s heart swelled at the sight, tears stinging her own eyes as she realized she had never seen her sister so happy, so free.
Evan leaned in, his voice low and warm. “You did the right thing,” he murmured.
Minerva’s chest felt strangely light, her heart full as she watched the reunion. Maybe, she thought, logic and planning weren’t the way to live a full life. Perhaps love, in all its unpredictable, messy glory, was worth the risk.
Minerva realized with a start that Evan had left the room. The relief and joy she felt for her sister were still coursing through her veins, but she couldn't let Evan slip away withoutacknowledging his role in all of this. She glanced at Chastity and Wellford, now lost in a conversation filled with quiet laughter and renewed hope, and slipped out of the room.
The corridor was quiet, the only sound the soft echo of her footsteps on the polished floor. She spotted him just as he was turning a corner, his broad shoulders framed by the light filtering in through a nearby window.
“Evan,” she called softly.
He paused, his hand coming to rest on the banister of the grand staircase. Slowly, he turned, his usual mask of charm and playfulness absent. In that moment, he looked almost... vulnerable. There was no roguish smirk or teasing glint in his eyes, just a man who had unexpectedly revealed a heart he usually kept hidden.
Minerva hesitated, her breath catching. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle. “You didn’t have to do that.”
His brow furrowed slightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe her sincerity. “I suppose I didn’t,” he replied, his voice low. “But I wanted to.”
She took a step closer, searching his face for some hint of the devil-may-care attitude he so often wore, but it wasn’t there. Instead, there was a kind of weariness, as if the effort of keeping up his rakish facade had finally taken its toll. Her heart twisted at the sight. She had always assumed Evan Pembroke was unflappable, untouchable—a man who couldn’t be hurt becausehe never allowed himself to feel anything deeply. But perhaps she had been wrong.
Evan’s gaze flicked over her face, lingering on her eyes. “I hope your sister finds the happiness she deserves,” he said, his voice rougher now, as though every word cost him something. “I know how much she means to you.”
“She does mean everything to me,” she whispered. “But so does doing what is right.” Her gaze softened as she looked at him. “You did not just help Chastity today, Evan. You helped me.”
He seemed taken aback by that, his jaw tightening. “I do not deserve your thanks,” he said, almost bitterly. “I have spent a lifetime being a disappointment to people who mattered.”
Minerva frowned, stepping even closer. “Is that what you think?” she asked, her voice trembling with something she couldn’t quite name. “That you’re only a disappointment?”
Evan’s mouth twisted into a smile that was more grimace than grin. “I know it,” he said. “I am a rake, Minerva. A man who’s lived selfishly, who’s never cared enough about anyone to be worth something more.”
Her heart ached at the self-loathing she heard in his voice. How many people had told him that he was worthless? How many times had he internalized the lies others had spoken about him? Minerva’s own doubts and insecurities had whispered similar things to her in the dead of night, but to hear them coming fromEvan’s lips—this man who had always seemed so confident, so sure of himself—was almost too much to bear.
“People change,” she murmured. “You’re not who they say you are, Evan. I see it.”
He shook his head, his eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. “Don’t,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t see something in me that isn’t there. I cannot be...”
But he didn’t finish. Instead, he looked away, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to hold himself together. Minerva felt something break inside her at the sight. She had always been cautious, always tried to keep her heart guarded and her emotions in check. But standing here, seeing the raw pain in Evan’s expression, she realized something she had been fighting all along.
She cared for him. Against her better judgment, despite all her attempts to be sensible and practical, she had fallen for this complicated, infuriating, wounded man. And the truth of it left her breathless.
Minerva’s fingers curled at her sides as she debated her next move. Her mind screamed at her to keep her distance, to protect herself from the hurt that loving someone like him could bring. But her heart had other ideas. It whispered that maybe, just maybe, the risk was worth it. That Evan, for all his flaws, was more than the rake he pretended to be.
Before she could lose her courage, she took another step forward. “Evan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He turned to her, and for a moment, she thought she saw hope flicker in his eyes. “You have done more good today than you know.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a look, her resolve hardening. “I don’t care what you think you are,” she continued. “I see you, Evan Pembroke. And what I see is a man who can be better, whoisbetter.”
His breath hitched, and for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes—not of her, but of what he might do or say. Of what he might feel.
