“Evelyn cares for you very much, Nicholas.”
Nick’s stomach clenched like a tight fist at the man’s grave tone. Now was as good a time as any would be.
“Lord Handaar, I—”
Handaar rose abruptly and strode to face the hearth. “How fare your brother and his wife?”
“Well.” Nicholas frowned at being cut off. The subject was difficult enough to voice without being forced to begin again. But mayhap ’twould be better to humor the old man. “They have a daughter now—Isabella. Mother has recently returned from Greanly and brought word that Tristan’s town prospers.”
Handaar nodded but did not turn. “Then the baroness is in good spirits as well?”
“Yea.” Nicholas chuckled and relaxed a bit. “As beautiful and overbearing as ever, and still hounding me ceaselessly.”
Handaar did not laugh at the jest, nor did he make any reply at all.
Nicholas placed his chalice on the small table with unnecessary care and leaned forward in his chair, his forearms braced on his knees. He took a deep, silent breath.
“Her hounding has relevance to my visit to Obny this night.”
“Of course it does.”
Nick frowned at the man’s back. “Handaar, I must speak with you in seriousness. I—”
“Do not, Nicholas.”
Nick’s nerves were wearing thin. “Please, friend, hear me out. This is not a thing I would take lightly and I think ’twill please you.”
After a moment of silence, Handaar sighed, and his words were curled with sorrow. “Go on, then, if you feel you must.”
“Very well.” Nick cleared his throat, rubbed his hands across his thighs. “Since my father’s death, it has been fully realized to me the responsibilities I now hold. Barring Mother’s nagging, I know that for my father’s line to be continued, I must marry. As you know, I am the last FitzTodd.”
He cleared his throat again. “I have known Lady Evelyn since her birth. You were like a brother to my father and a second father to me.” Nick’s voice grew a bit hoarse with his last words, so he stole another quick gulp of wine before continuing.
“The baroness loves Evelyn as she would her own daughter, and I care for her as well.” Nick took a deep breath, his heart kicking against his ribs as if it would burst from his chest and gallop from the hall without him. “As my wife, Evelyn will want for naught. I swear it to you.”
“’Tis not possible,” Handaar said, his voice gravelly and low.
Nick paused a moment to collect his thoughts. He had expected this, and he was prepared. “I know that she is promised to the convent, but Handaar”—Nick rose—“I will secure her freedom. I will pay the abbess her dowry so that Evelyn may marry.”
When no reply came, Nick’s nerves were outrun by his growing frustration. “Do you not see? She need not throw her life away by joining the order. You must admit that you are loathe to send your only child from you, and now, ’twill be avoided. She will be close at hand for the rest of your days and cared for by one you claim to be as your own son.” Nick felt confident in the logic of his argument. “It only makes sense that we wed.”
“I made a vow to Fiona,” Handaar said. “I beg of you, Nick, let us not speak of it further.”
“Evelyn’s mother is dead, Handaar,” Nick said as gently as possible. “Though do you not think if she were still alive, if she could see what a companionable match your daughter and I make, that she would bless this union?”
“Mayhap,” Handaar said quietly. “But it matters not. As I’ve said, ’tis impossible.”
Nick felt his choler rising as it never had before with the old warrior. “Nay, ’tis not impossible. As baron, ’tis my responsibility to see to the welfare of my people, and I will not have Evelyn waste away in a moldy priory when she could live in comfort, among family and friends.”
Nicholas stepped closer to Handaar’s back. His next words would be difficult to say to the elder lord, but Nick felt his authority in this matter need be exercised.
His voice was steady now, deep with resolve. “Handaar, as baron, ’tis also my right to take a bride of my choosing. I have made my choice, friend, and there is naught you can do to sway me.” He placed a comforting hand on the stooped shoulder. “Fiona would understand, I am certain. Now, let us seek Lady Evelyn and share with her the good news.”
Handaar turned under Nick’s palm, and Nick was shaken and disturbed to see streaks of wet glistening on the wrinkled cheeks. Handaar’s voice was strained but, aside from the tears on his face, his expression was stony.
“Evelyn is already gone, Nick.”
Nicholas took an involuntary step back as Handaar’s words hit him like a physical blow. “Gone? What do you mean?”
“She has left for the convent.” Handaar swiped a hand over his face. “Two days past, when she foretold of your arrival.”
Nick returned to his chair, stunned. “But…but why would she go if she knew I was coming? Were we not always friends?”
“That is the very reason,” Handaar said, as he too regained his seat. He poured more wine into the chalices. “Although I am certain you perceived your hints about the matter as subtle, Evelyn knew you would offer marriage. As you yourself said, it only makes sense.”
“But…she knew?” Nick asked, his thoughts tripping over themselves. He looked at Handaar and at the old lord’s expression of sympathy, Nick knew that his bewilderment must have been evident on his face. “She would choose the convent over me?”
Handaar shook his head and looked to a spot between his boots. “She had no wish to marry, to bear you the children she knew you would require of her. Evelyn took the vow I made to Fiona most seriously.”
Nick felt his jaw harden until he thought his teeth would crack. “Then she is selfish and stupid. There is no guarantee that her fate would have been as Fiona’s—that she would die in childbirth. She has thrown her life away and abandoned me.”
Handaar sighed quietly. “In her heart, she felt she was freeing you.”
“Freeing me? For what purpose? To be forced to take a stranger for a wife?” Nick’s bark of laughter was bitter and jagged. “Ours would have been a union of friendship and trust. That she would leave me is unforgivable. She never cared for me at all.”
“Evelyn loves you very much, Nick.”
“Nay!” His palm sliced through air thick with tension. “Nay, you do not treat one you claim to be in love with in such a manner as this—with deceit.”
“I said that she loved you, not that she was in love with you. There is a difference.” Handaar looked weary now to the brink of collapse, but Nick’s hurt was not considerate of the old man.
“Love, in love.” Nick waved a hand. “What does it
