Page 74 of The Odyssean Duke

“It hardly matters,” he said. “Even if I care for you, I cannot—I cannot—I have to go.”

“No,” Evelina said, staring at him in disbelief. “No, you cannot just walk away! We are having a discussion.”

“And I have decided to end that discussion,” Stephan said dryly. “There is nothing to be gained from continuing it.”

Evelina stood and shook her head. Color had risen to her cheeks. Bathed in the morning light and the glow of her fury, Evelina looked like an avenging goddess. His breath caught. “No,” she said. “We are married. You cannot just walk away, and I will not tolerate being used for my body and abandoned. You cannot do that to me.”

“Can’t I?” Stephan asked. He left the bed and retrieved his trousers from the floor, aware that Evelina watched him like a hawk. “In case you have forgotten, our marriage is a matter of convenience.”

Evelina stared at him, looking stricken.

“Did you forget that?” He dressed without looking at her. If Stephan did turn to see Evelina’s expression, he feared that his resolve might crumble again. “Our marriage is built of contracts and stipulations. It is as convoluted as the stipulation that my father put on me inheriting the dukedom, and you agreed to that.”

She said nothing, but her eyes burned into his back. Stephan swallowed his pride and, at last, turned to her. Evelina stood tall, but tears fell down her face.

“It is what we agreed to,” he insisted. “You cannot fault me for wanting to hold you to an agreement we both made, especially knowing everything that was at stake.”

“Right,” she said, sounding defeated. “Of course, I cannot fault you.”

Her agreement made him feel even more wretched. Stephan finished dressing and stormed from the bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time. He considered the possibility that Evelina might have followed him and might be watching from the bedroom door, but when he thought of looking behind him and seeing her devastated face again, his courage abandoned him.

Stephan stepped into the foyer, and Nathanial brightly approached him. “Good morning, Your Grace!”

“Good morning,” Stephan grunted.

Nathanial was too cheerful for the morning, especially when Stephan’s thoughts hissed and buzzed around his head like a swarm of bees. Evelina was?—

She was furious because of him. But what could he do? Evelina wanted him to agree and say that he loved her as she did him, and horrifyingly, perhaps he did.

They could never be anything more than they were, though. The best outcome would be that Stephan would break her heart. Why did she have to care about him? Why did he have to care forher? Now, he was placed in the impossible position of still needing an heir from this woman, something that would prove all the more difficult now that they had feelings for one another.

“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” Nathanial asked.

“I am going out,” Stephan said curtly.

He did not wait for a response. Instead, Stephan simply flung open the door and left. The warm spring air of Mayfair swept over him. Bustling maids and elegant couples walked peacefully through the streets, talking with one another and basking in the enjoyable day.

A longing for the sea rose within Stephan so violently and suddenly that he feared he might be ill. The sea was dangerous but uncomplicated. He knew who he was when he was at sea, and he knew the moods of the ocean well. Stephan could look at the sky and tell when the waves were about to become a tempest. He could feel the caress of the wind on his face and know when the waves would soon still until they were like floating on the surface of a looking glass.

Evelina was unpredictable. She was not supposed to love him. That waswhyhe had agreed to let her be his wife. She was brazen and independent and would not need him.

“Absurd,” Stephan muttered.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and trudged down the street, his heartbeat thundering as if he had just accomplished some great physical feat. He had to be away from Evelina as soon as possible. He had to banish her entirely from his mind.

Stephan wished that he had thought to call for a coach to whisk him away all the more quickly, but he had too much pride to return to his house and ask. Maybe if he walked very quickly, he could reach the ports, find a ship, and just leave. Stephanknew he could not really do that, of course, but it was lovely to fantasize?—

“Rothbury?”

Stephan’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. Across the street, Murrayton gazed quizzically at him. His beautiful wife was with him, their maid trailing a few steps behind. “Why are you walking around all alone?” Murrayton asked, his voice full of good humor. “How is your duchess?”

Stephan found some difficulty breathing. Words were even harder. When he thought of speaking, they all fell away from him and dissolved into a string of nothingness. “I—I—she is…”

Murrayton turned to his wife and said something to her that was too quiet for Stephan to hear. Then, the man crossed the street and studied Stephan’s face for a long moment. “What happened?” Murrayton asked, his voice absurdly gentle.

Stephan clenched his teeth together, heat rushing to his face. He was not a man who cared to talk about how he felt ever, and he especially had no inclination to discuss his marital problems—even with his friend. But Evelina…

She was so wonderful and terrible that every suppressed and unspoken thing bubbled up inside Stephan. “I need someone to talk to,” he said. “About Evelina.”