Oppressed & Empowered: The Viscount's Capable Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 11)

by Bree Wolf

  Unfortunately, it merely grasped air.

  Nothing tangible.

  Nothing to hold her upright.

  Nothing to keep her from falling.

  The air rushed from her lungs, and her stomach did a flip at the disconcerting sensation of not having steady ground under one’s feet. Pinching her eyes shut and gritting her teeth in anticipation of an undoubtedly painful landing–not to mention the bruise to her pride at having it witnessed by her betrothed–Evelyn held her breath.

  A sound of alarm reached her ears, and Evelyn’s eyes flew open in time to see Lord Ashwood appear before her as though out of thin air. His face held concern as well as urgency as his arms reached for her, closing around her middle a moment before she would have contacted the hard wood of the stairs.

  Whatever air remained now rushed from Evelyn’s lungs as she sank into his arms, her gaze meeting his, unguarded and vulnerable. It was a rare moment as he pulled her back up onto her feet, his eyes never leaving hers, his arms pressing her to him as though she were still in danger of falling. “Are you all right?” he whispered, his breath touching her lips as his eyes roamed her face. They were a dark grey, warm and welcoming, and Evelyn felt her heart open to him. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, remembering the last time they had stood so close, and her tongue snaked out to wet her lips.

  Mesmerised, Lord Ashwood’s gaze followed the movement, and his hands tightened on her back, pulling her closer into his arms. Slowly, he lowered his head to hers, his eyes returning to meet her gaze, a question in them that needed no words. And yet, he asked, “Do you object?”

  Evelyn sighed, a smile coming to her lips as she saw the seriousness in his eyes. “Not at all,” she whispered, her voice teasing. “After all, it is only fair.”

  “Fair?” Frowning, he lifted his head.

  Regretting her words, Evelyn stepped closer into his embrace, willing him not to misunderstand her. Perhaps he could truly not attribute the tone in her voice to the right intention. “It is indeed. After all, it was you who initiated our first kiss, whereas, I must take responsibility for the second,” she teased, the smile on her lips urging him to understand her.

  He blinked, and a soft crinkle came to the corners of his lips. “That is undoubtedly true,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over her face, working to make sense of the subtle nuances of her expression.

  “Therefore, it is now your turn once more,” Evelyn concluded, thinking that she might enjoy teaching him the fine art of teasing. Always had she taken the required knowledge to do so for granted. Perhaps she was wrong.

  Still, a lack of knowledge should never be seen as a deficiency, but always as an opportunity to learn. A most enjoyable opportunity indeed.

  Returning her smile with a hesitant one of his own, Lord Ashwood gently placed his mouth on hers as though he was still not certain whether she objected or not. Only when Evelyn returned his kiss did he allow some restraint to fall from him.

  As he kissed her, his hands tenderly brushed over her back, then slipped up to her shoulders before his fingers trailed up the column of her neck and vanished in her hair. Never before had he touched her so intimately, so thoroughly, and a rather bold part of Evelyn regretted that their wedding night was still more than a week away.

  As voices drifted down from upstairs, Evelyn felt him tense before a moment later, he broke their kiss. Blinking once or twice, he straightened, his arms around her loosening, as the tender emotions she had seen there before slowly retreated as though they had never been. Then he took a step back and politely offered her his arm to escort her to the breakfast parlour.

  Smiling, Evelyn slipped her arm through his. Although she could not deny that she felt a tinge of disappointment, she revelled at the thought that she had persuaded him to drop his mask.

  If only for a moment.

  Chapter Sixteen – Treacherous Weather

  Once again, days passed, and the weather grew ever colder. Christmas was on the horizon, and so the inside of Farnworth Manor received a festive decoration.

  Decorated evergreen boughs hung in archways and above windows, their fresh pine smell adding to the warmth that hung about the place as the fires in the hearths in the commonly used rooms downstairs seemed to be burning continually. Freshly baked pastries lent their own aroma, creating a wonderful contrast to the white landscape outside.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Miss Davenport exclaimed as she and Evelyn walked through the gardens arm in arm. “Have you ever seen so much snow at once?” Smiling brightly, she laughed, then stuck out her tongue like a child to catch one of the elusive flakes.

  As the day of Evelyn’s wedding approached and with it the arrival of their guests, Miss Davenport’s spirits began to improve. Clearly, the woman was starved for company, dissatisfied with only having her mother and future sister-in-law to talk to.

  “I cannot wait to see her again,” Miss Davenport suddenly exclaimed as though she could not imagine that Evelyn was at a loss as to whom she was referring to. “It has been quite a while. Not since Lord Weston whisked her off to Gretna Green, robbing me of my companion.” She huffed as though she still held this deed against him.

  “Oh, you mean Miss Ferris,” Evelyn exclaimed, remembering the young woman who had been found in the road not far from Farnworth Manor last year. She had been mildly injured and could not recall who she was. Lord Ashwood had taken her in and asked Evelyn’s father to see to her when he had been at Farnworth Manor to tend to his old friend’s widow after her husband’s death. Evelyn, too, had met her once or twice, remembering the somewhat timid-looking, young woman.

  As far as she remembered, Miss Ferris had become Miss Davenport’s companion as she had nowhere to go, and Miss Davenport had been starved for company–something that seemed to occur on a regular basis. Then, not long after, an old friend of Lord Ashwood’s–apparently the same friend now invited to her wedding–had stopped by for a visit and taken a liking to the young woman. Not long after, they had gone off to Gretna Green.

  Frowning, Evelyn glanced at Miss Davenport. “May I ask? Might their story have been somewhat of an inspiration to you?”

  Looking a bit bashful, Miss Davenport sighed, “I know it was foolish to run off with William. Still, I could not help thinking about her and how she’d found love so unexpectedly. I thought if I were only to take a risk, I might be equally rewarded.”

  Hugging Miss Davenport a bit tighter to her side, Evelyn smiled at her, thinking of her own risk and the fervent hope that it would lead her to happiness instead of misery. “I quite understand,” she assured her friend. “Sometimes it is not easy to determine what the right course of action would be.”

  Miss Davenport scoffed, turning slightly widened eyes to her. “You sound like my brother,” she observed. “Now, that’s rather alarming.”

  Evelyn laughed, “As much as you dislike his attitude toward this…matter,” she replied, wondering when she had come to agree with him, “you cannot deny that he is not wrong. That sometimes it is wise to think things through before acting.”

  Miss Davenport sighed rather theatrically, “I never said otherwise. However, I believe it is equally important to simply follow one’s heart every once in a while.”

  “That is certainly true,” Evelyn agreed, hopeful that the young woman was slowly coming to see reason. “Then perhaps the two of you ought to meet in the middle. Perhaps you could learn from each other.”

  Miss Davenport laughed, “For that to work, I believe we are both lacking something rather significant.”

  “What is that?”

  “The willingness to change.” Shaking her head, Miss Davenport sighed, “Honestly, I want to live in a world where I can make mistakes because deep down I don’t want to be careful all the time. I want to do as my heart urges me to do, and if it goes horribly wrong,” she inhaled a shuddering breath, her right hand slowly skimming over the slight bump under her dress, “then so be it.” He
r blue eyes turned to Evelyn. “I don’t want to live my life always wondering what it would have felt like if I had followed my heart.”

  Evelyn could not deny that there was merit in her words. “I never meant to suggest that you forsake your desires altogether,” she counselled. “But I suppose finding a way to balance both would be advisable.”

  “And how would I know when to act rationally and when to act impulsively?” Dropping her gaze, Miss Davenport stared at the snow-covered ground before her gaze met Evelyn’s once more. “After I found out that…,” she glanced at her belly, “I had regrets. How could I not? I cursed myself for being so foolish.” She swallowed hard. “But then after a while, I realised that it was selfish of me to regret what had happened. If I hadn’t acted against all sense, my…child would never have been.” Tears came to her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. “So, in the end, I cannot bring myself to regret my actions. Even if I do not get to keep him…or her, at least he’ll live.” Her jaw clenched, and tears streamed down her face. “At least, he’ll live.”

  Seeing the misery and utter sadness on her friend’s face, Evelyn pulled her into her arms, her own heart heavy with the young woman’s sorrow. Miss Davenport’s arms came around her, holding on tightly as though she had no strength to hold herself upright any longer. Sobbing, she buried her face in Evelyn’s shoulder, and Evelyn felt the little bump pressed against her own belly, knowing how precious the little life inside was to Miss Davenport.

  Although to those who did not know her well, she might seem capricious and irresponsible and reckless and only interested in her own amusement; however, it had never been so clear that she loved her child.

  With all her heart.

  And it surely would break when the moment came to bid him or her farewell.

  “Claudia?”

  Still holding on to her friend, Evelyn took a step back and lifted her head, her gaze falling on Lady Ashwood as she stepped out onto the terrace. Her pale eyes were fixed on her daughter, concern creasing her forehead as she walked towards them. “My sweet child, what h–?”

  In one moment, Lady Ashwood was still upright, and in the next, her left foot slid out from under her. With a cry of alarm, she went down.

  “Mother!” Miss Davenport exclaimed, her voice strained with fear.

  Darting forward, Evelyn rushed towards Lady Ashwood, only slowing her steps when she reached the terrace, her eyes gliding over the patches of ice here and there. “Miss Davenport, stay back!” she called over her shoulder. “It’s too slippery here. Go around back and call for help.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn saw the young woman disappear around the house. “Lady Ashwood?” she called to her future mother-in-law lying stretched out on the ice-covered terrace as she picked her way closer. “Lady Ashwood?”

  A soft groan escaped the woman’s lips as she began to move, a hand rising to touch her forehead. “What…what happened?” Her lids fluttered, and she swallowed hard.

  Finally reaching Lady Ashwood’s side, Evelyn sank down. “Look at me, please. Does anything hurt?”

  Again, Lady Ashwood blinked, needing a moment to make sense of Evelyn’s words. “My head,” she whispered, her breath laboured as she began to move her limbs. Then she flinched, another groan tearing from her lips. “And my ankle.”

  Feeling the woman’s neck first, Evelyn then moved her hands up to her head, carefully probing for injuries. When she reached the back, Lady Ashwood gasped in pain. Still, Evelyn was relieved to find no blood on her fingers. “You have a nasty bump on the back of your head.”

  “I suppose that was to be expected,” Lady Ashwood commented dryly. Still, there was a hint of humour in her voice, and she looked up at Evelyn with an apologetic look in her eyes. “I wasn’t looking. I saw Claudia’s face, and…”

  “I know,” Evelyn replied, then continued her examination, moving her hands downward over Lady Ashwood’s body and checking for broken bones. When she reached the indicated ankle, her future mother-in-law gasped, cringing at the pain. “I think it’s only sprained, not broken.”

  A shuddering breath left Lady Ashwood’s lips when Evelyn removed her hands. “That’s good,” she whispered. “Can you help me up?”

  Evelyn shook her head. “No, you must not–”

  In that moment, the terrace door flew open and Lord Ashwood appeared in its frame, his eyes wide as his gaze swept over them, finally settling on his mother. “Mother!” Concern hardening his features, he stepped out onto the terrace.

  “Stop!” Evelyn called, and he froze, his gaze shifting to her. “Pick your way carefully,” she warned, pointing at the ground. “There’s ice everywhere. You’re no help if you fall as well.”

  Sighing, Lord Ashwood nodded, moving slowly and with caution as he picked his way to his mother’s side. Behind him, Mr. Adams followed suit. After a long moment, they finally reached them.

  Sinking onto his knees, Lord Ashwood grasped his mother’s hand. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  Smiling, she patted her son’s hand. “Don’t worry, my dear. I shall be fine. It’s merely a bump and a sprain. However, I’d appreciate it if you could help me inside. I’m getting rather cold.”

  Rising to her feet, Evelyn instructed Lord Ashwood and Mr. Adams on how to lift the viscountess and then carefully directed them around the treacherous patches of ice barring their way to the door. Fortunately, everything went without a hitch, and before long, Lady Ashwood was laid down on the settee in the drawing room.

  Casting aside her warm coat, Evelyn quickly set to work, ordering tea for the shivering Lady Ashwood and asking Mr. Adams to bring down her doctor’s bag from her room. Then she asked Lord Ashwood to escort his sister upstairs as Miss Davenport had gone rather pale and was slightly swaying on her feet.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Lady Ashwood said with a smile, urging her daughter to listen to Evelyn. “Remember that you need to take care of yourself.”

  Miss Davenport nodded, her right-hand brushing over the small bump under her dress, before she allowed her brother to assist her upstairs.

  Evelyn looked at brother and sister as they headed toward the hall, meeting her future husband’s eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. Deep concern rested in his eyes, and Evelyn marvelled at the love he clearly had for his mother. Why would he not show it more openly?

  When the servants returned with all she had asked for, Evelyn poured Lady Ashwood some tea before examining the lady’s head further. There was a small swelling on the back of her head, and Evelyn turned to Mr. Adams, asking him to bring her a bucket of ice water.

  Considering the freezing temperatures, that ought not to be a problem.

  Upon his return, Evelyn soaked a piece of cloth in the water, feeling her fingers prickle as they reddened. Then she wrung it out and asked the maid who had brought the linen to hold it to the back of Lady Ashwood’s head. “When it warms, soak it again, wring it out, and continue as before,” she instructed, noting the way the maid nodded dutifully. “Thank you.”

  Then Evelyn asked Mr. Adams to step outside before she turned to remove Lady Ashwood’s boot in order to take a closer look at her ankle. Fortunately, her first assessment had been correct; the ankle was not broken, merely sprained. “Still, you’ll need to keep off your feet for a while,” she instructed, gathering a few pillows to elevate the leg before draping a cooling cloth over it as well. Then she opened her little bag and drew out a small vial. “This is peppermint oil,” she told her patient, who watched her curiously. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

  Lady Ashwood sighed, sipping her tea. “My dear, I must say it is quite convenient to have you around. I already feel better.”

  A deep smile came to Evelyn’s face at the lady’s praise, and she realised how much her ability to help meant to her. Without it, she would feel incomplete. Evelyn could only hope that her future husband would come to understand that side of her. As much as she had come to care for him, she was nonetheless a
ware of the fact that on a deeper level they were still strangers. How much did she truly know about him? And he about her?

  There was still much to say.

  To learn.

  To understand.

  Once Lady Ashwood was comfortably settled in her room, Evelyn went to see to Miss Davenport, assuring the young woman that her mother would be fine and that she, too, needed to rest.

  For the sake of her child.

  That did the trick and assured Miss Davenport’s compliance.

  Exhausted, Evelyn headed back downstairs, considering where best to look for Lord Ashwood when she heard Mr. Bragg’s voice echo over from the front hall. Changing direction, she hastened over, wondering what had brought him to Farnworth Manor.

  The moment he saw her, he stopped in his tracks, his gaze narrowing as he glared at her with resentment. “My lady,” he said, his voice mocking.

  “Good day to you as well,” Evelyn said as politely as she could. “What brings you here?”

  For a moment, he looked at her, his gaze uncomprehending. Then, however, his eyes widened slightly, and a devious smile curled up his lips. “Lord Ashwood sent for me,” he said, delight as well as the hint of a challenge ringing in his voice, “to see to his mother.”

  Evelyn’s body tensed as she forced herself to inhale a slow breath.

  “Apparently, she took a nasty fall,” Mr. Bragg went on undeterred, clearly enjoying this moment of perceived superiority, “and requires a doctor.” He inclined his head to her. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a patient to tend to.” Then he turned and headed up the stairs, that self-satisfied smile still on his face.

  Evelyn fumed.

  In that moment, nothing would have pleased her more than to claw Mr. Bragg’s eyes out. Nonetheless, even in her anger, she was well aware that he was not at the core of the problem. Lord Ashwood was. After all, he was the one to have called on him.