Page 57 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

Until now.

How ironic that he had been the one who didn’t want a wife or family. It had been acceptable to him for his title and lands to pass to some distant Drake in the future. He’d come home from the war unhappy—and had found happiness with a divine creature. On his deathbed, he would remember Rachel’s kiss. The feel of her satin skin. The taste of her. Always.

And he would spend the rest of his life in love with a woman who didn’t return his feelings.

Why had love come now? Like a thief in the midnight hour, Rachel St. Clair had stolen his heart. Evan would never be the same again.

He couldn’t blame her, though. She’d spoken of how important it was for her to wed a man she loved. If she experienced none of those feelings for him, she would have become melancholy and dejected being tied to him for life. Evan had to be glad that the Duke of Everton loved his sister so much that he would allow tonight’s incident to be swept under the rug, thus allowing Rachel the freedom to find a man worthy of her love.

That was the problem. He wasn’t worthy of a woman as magnificent as Rachel. She must have recognized how damaged he was from the war. If anything, she probably pitied him. The thought chilled him. He would rather have her indifference—even hate—than pity.

How was he going to be able to see her again? Everton was right. Alex would do more than question Evan if he refused to attend the wedding and stand with him. They were closer than brothers. No explanation would prove worthy. That meant seeing Rachel again. He would certainly honor Everton’s wishes and not speak to her.

But she would be standing at the altar. Next to Leah. Evan wouldn’t be able to avoid her. It would take more courage than he’d ever displayed on a battlefield to be in close proximity to her as the clergyman spoke words about love to Alex and Leah. Evan would do it, though. He would soldier on as he always had. Whether it was dealing with being banished by his father to charging onto the battlefield, he would support Alex on his friend’s wedding day. Evan would give a toast that all would remember.

Then he’d leave to go lick his wounds in solitude.

He rose, his body aching and his face tender from the blows Everton had landed. The important thing was to be seen by no one. In his condition, too many unanswered questions would be dangling. Evan had nothing of value in his bedchamber at Fairfield, only the borrowed clothes from Alex. His new wardrobe would be arriving soon at Edgemere, within a day or two. He would leave for there now. Once he arrived home, he could compose a note to Alex and tell him he’d returned home since the house party was ending in the morning. That way, no guest would see what he looked like.

Wearily, Evan made his way back through the gardens, remembering the drawings Rachel had done for him. He could leave them behind for he recalled every suggestion she’d made, her sketches burned into his memory. She would never see them but he would bring her vision to its full glory.

Exiting the gardens, he went to the stables and saddled Goliath, leading the huge black outside before mounting it. Enough moonlight shone to light his way home but he would walk the horse the entire way. He’d invested far too much in the animal to be careless.

As he slowly went down the road toward Edgemere, he tried to close his mind and damaged heart to Rachel.

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