Page 62 of Wolfhaven

Instead, all she’d done was ruin herself twice over.

She felt worthless and insignificant. Incapable of changing anything for anyone. Helpless to influence her fate.

A hand touched her arm.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Hazel’s tired eyes were wreathed in wrinkles. They had changed their clothes and warmed up after they came in, but Evaine was suddenly terrified that she had taken a chill during today’s journey that might claim her life. They should have left her here. But with an unknown intruder and only the Cogswells for company, that hadn’t been an option Evaine would have considered.

“It’s alright, Gran. You spoke the truth,” she said tiredly.

“It wasn’t my truth to speak.” Regret laced her Gran’s tone.

“If I hadn’t behaved so foolishly, there wouldn’t have been anything to say.” If she hadn’t made the first mistake with the young man at Girton, she probably wouldn’t have made the second with Gareth. Regrets upon regrets.

Evaine gave herself a little shake. Quit wallowing. Do something useful.

“Shall we make supper?” she said too brightly. “It’s early, but breakfast is a distant memory. We missed lunch. We should have brought more than a few snacks with us.”

“I thought we would have lunch in the village,” Gran said wistfully. Evaine refrained from asking her, With what money? She knew Hazel felt the precarity of their situation as keenly as she did. She was bored from months of convalescence. Today’s outing could have been an entertaining diversion under different circumstances.

If not for the openly hostile villagers.

Gareth came stomping in while they were making the rest of the roasted venison into a stew. The wind howled outside the windows as Evaine set the table, carefully avoiding the duke. His shoulders were rigid but his spine bowed. She suspected his headache had returned.

“I don’t expect there is any chance of us moving back into the cottage before winter sets in,” Hazel observed.

“Likely not, no,” he agreed. His face was haggard. He stared blankly into his soup. After that, they were all too hungry to talk much. Awkward silence ruled the table.

“Is it worth lighting the boiler for hot water?” Hazel ventured.

“Might as well save the fuel,” Gareth answered. Her face fell.

“I’ll put on a kettle. We can have tea and decide how to handle security this evening,” Evaine said. Her cheeks turned hot. “I, for one, won’t be sleeping much.”

“I suggest we all sleep in the same room. We can take watch in shifts.”

“The two of you are not having a repeat of last night,” Hazel said sternly. “I was young and foolish once, too, but I am still Evie’s guardian and I must insist upon a modicum of propriety.”

Accidentally, Evaine’s gaze met the duke’s. Clashed and held like two swords. She broke eye contact first. An admission of weakness.

“No one is considering anything of the sort, Gran,” she said in exasperation. “We have an intruder. We’re all exhausted. I’ll take the first shift. You two get some rest.”

We may be locking ourselves in with a murderer.

She couldn’t explain why the villager’s words had affected her so deeply. She didn’t believe them any more than she believed in ghosts.

Look how that had turned out. Here she was, miles from help, in an abandoned mansion with an unstable duke with a head injury and a temper, an old woman, and a creepy groundskeeper and his wife guarding the premises. And two ghosts. Whether she wanted to admit they existed or not, Evaine couldn’t deny the evidence she had seen with her own two eyes.

How did she get herself into such a predicament?

“I’ll sleep on the floor in your room,” Gareth said, collecting his cane.

“No, you will not. You will take my bed. I’ll sleep in Gran’s bed when it’s my turn,” Evaine said firmly. His mouth ticked up in a half-smile. Almost fond. Her heart twisted.

She could have loved him. It would have been so easy.

“I am—” Gareth began.

“Still concussed,” she cut him off ruthlessly. “Take your medicine and go to sleep. Both of you. I will take the first watch.”