“Oh, Evie.” Georgianna propped her elbow on the arm of her chair and flicked out her hand. “You really are the most selfish creature. You wanted to keep Nicholas. I tried to stop you. It would have been just as easy to get rid of him.”

Evie sucked a breath through her teeth. “You really are a monster.” In that moment, she no longer cared. No longer wanted to win her over. She didn’t want this woman’s consideration or love or gratitude. She wanted nothing from her at all. “You should leave.”

Georgianna’s nostrils flared, her cheeks spotting red. “Oh! You little brat! Everything is always about you, isn’t it? You’ve just landed yourself a gold mine . . . and now you think you can toss me out of your life while you reap the benefits.”

Evie stared at her, stupidly shocked.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Georgianna continued. “Since you’ve come into such good fortune, I expect you shall move us into a more suitable residence and introduce us into the circles your husband—”

“No.”

Georgianna stopped. “No?”

Evie nodded.

If possible, Georgianna’s face grew redder. Then her gaze flickered, drifted beyond Evie’s shoulder. Something crossed her features, a calculating expression Evie had never seen before. Pulling herself straighter in her chair, she spoke in jarringly clear tones. “I’m sure you will reconsider.” Her voice grew louder in an odd, theatrical way as she fixated on that spot over Evie’s shoulder. “After all, you wouldn’t have fallen into such good fortune if not for Linnie . . . if she had not disgraced herself with that wretched soldier. What was his name? Ian? If your sister had not let that stupid boy slip beneath her skirts, then you would never have been able to dupe this viscount into marrying you.”

Evie was speechless, outraged.

Then she heard it.

The slight shifting of a foot in the threshold.

Her fingers tightened in her lap, twisting until they were bloodless, numb. Her gaze lifted, catching on her stepmother’s gaze. Her stomach cramped at the cold triumph there. And she knew.

Georgianna had spoken her every word on purpose. So Spencer could hear.

She stood slowly, a loud roaring filling her ears.

Papa, as usual, sat silent. Only this time, his eyes bulged as he leaned to the side of his seat, peering around her on the sofa to the man who stood in the threshold.

She shoved to her feet on trembling legs. With a deep breath, she quickly turned around and faced her husband.

A stranger stared at her.

It was Spencer, to be certain, but not as she had ever seen him. He stood rock-still, as stoic as he’d been on that first day, the first time she’d ever seen him, in this very room. He held himself still, his face impassive. All except for his eyes.

They looked wild as they stared at her. Coldly enraged.

“Spencer,” she murmured, edging forward one step. “Let me—”

“What?” he bit out. “Let you explain? That would be a neat trick, wouldn’t it? But then you’re full of tricks. I already know how affecting you can be.” His gaze slid over her in an insulting manner. “In every way.”

She flinched. “Please.”

His hands flexed open and shut beside him. He continued as if she had not spoken. “But perhaps you can accomplish it. Convince me I am not the greatest idiot. You’re such an accomplished little actress, after all. You belong in Vauxhall.”

She withered inside at his words. This was the moment she had feared. Only worse. Nothing in her imagination could have prepared her for the way he looked at her now.

“Oh, come now.” Georgianna stepped forward and placed a hand on Evie’s shoulder. “Don’t be too harsh. Husbands and wives always have these secrets between them.”

Evie shrugged free of her hateful hand and took another step in Spencer’s direction. Again, she said the only thing she could think to say in this terrible moment. “Please.”

“No.” The word bit into her. He held up a wide palm as if he would ward her off. “I don’t want to hear you. I don’t even want to look at you.”

“Now, now. You mustn’t be that way,” Georgianna reprimanded. “She’s your wife now. For better or worse.”

Evie’s fingers curled inward, her nails cutting into her palms, yearning to gouge into her stepmother’s eyes. “Georgianna, you’ve done enough. Be quiet.”

“So you told a few lies.” Georgianna fluttered her hand. “Well. Several.” She focused a coldly cheerful gaze on Spencer. “You must move on and accept that she is nothing at all like my beautiful Linnie. She is flawed. Imperfect.” Georgianna closed her hands around Evie’s arms again and pushed her toward Spencer. “Your wife.”

Evie held her breath and suffered Spencer’s blistering stare. She felt waves of loathing radiate from him. At last, he turned without a word and left her standing in the parlor with her stepmother still holding onto her arms.

The moment he passed through the door, Evie called out his name.

“Don’t beg, dear, it’s most unbecoming.”

Evie shrugged free and whirled around. “Are you not happy unless you are hurting someone?”

Georgianna shrugged. “So he found out the truth. You couldn’t have expected to lie to him forever.”

Evie pressed a hand to her heart. “I was going to tell him. He didn’t need to hear it from you.” Especially in such a horrible fashion.”

“Well, thank me, then. I saved you the trouble.”

“You’re truly wretched.” She pointed to the door. “And I don’t have to abide you anymore. Pack your things and get out.”

“Surely you jest—”

“No jest. I want you out. If you don’t leave, I’ll have Mr. Murdoch throw you out.” She slid a glance to her ever silent father. He could have spoken up on her behalf. “Both of you.”

Georgianna gaped, her expression almost comical. Evie might have enjoyed the sight on any other occasion; instead, she lifted her skirts and ran from the room, determined to find her husband and explain. Whether he wanted to hear her or not, she’d tell him her side, make him understand, convince him not to hate her. If need be, she would grovel.

Anything to keep him in her life.

Chapter 25

Spencer strode outside, his boots biting into the snow-covered earth. He didn’t have a destination in mind, only escape. He could not stomach another minute in Evie’s house. Evie. He laughed harshly, the sound ugly on the cold wind. Her name alone made him feel sick. Bile rose up in his throat. Now he understood why she didn’t wish to be called Linnie. Why it was such a point of contention for her.

She wasn’t Linnie.

And he was a fool.

She was another woman entirely—a female of whom he knew nothing. Questions whirled in his head. How had she carried off the deception of raising Nicholas as her own?

Why would she have wished to?

He stormed past the garden, past the spot where he’d taken an arrow in the back. That afternoon seemed long ago. He should have taken that as an omen. He should have crawled atop his mount, arrow still in his back, and ridden away and never looked back.

Instead, like a besotted fool, he’d remained and let her weave her spell on him.

He spied Nicholas, bundled from ankles to chin, with his nanny at the pond’s edge. The boy waved excitedly at him. Spencer returned the wave, unwilling to take out his bad temper on the lad. He was Ian’s son. At least, he believed so. Unless that had been a lie, too. The sour taste in his mouth intensified.

Nicholas was the spitting image of Ian. Still, Spencer could not sort anything from the jumble of thoughts careening through his head. Only one thought eclipsed all others.

She had lied to him.

From the start, she had looked at him with her fathomless blue eyes and lied. She had duped him during their every moment together. When he’d made love to her, he’d felt there had been something there, something that had run deep, deeper than anything he’d found before.

He should’ve stuck to his initial plan—married her for convenience, duty, heirs. He shouldn’t have started hoping for more. If he’d expected nothing, his chest wouldn’t have this abominable ache at its center. He should have known better.

Unbidden, Adara’s voice came to him then, her cold prediction ringing in his ears.

Your perfect bride will break your heart. I see it in her. She’s the same as everyone else. Out for herself. She doesn’t really care about you. Why do you think she married you? Did you even know each other? You’re nothing but a title to her. Wealth and security. Not a man! Not anyone she would ever care for!

It killed him that Adara had been right.

He veered off the path, away from the pond, detouring through the wood. At that moment, he craved solitude and perhaps a tree to beat his fist against. Then, later . . . later he would return to the house and deal with his wife. Wife. The mere word turned his stomach. He’d accepted the notion of marrying Ian’s paramour. He’d even accepted that he had come to care for her and wanted a real marriage with her. But that was before he’d known she wasn’t real. Before she’d betrayed him.

He might not know who she was, but he had a fairly good idea that she was not anyone with whom he could spend his life.

Unfortunately, he was saddled with the lying, manipulative little viper.

He walked deeper into the woods, his feet tromping out his fury. At the snap of a twig, he spun around, a growl erupting at the willowy shadow emerging from the trees behind him.

“You followed me,” he accused. “That’s unwise.”

She nodded jerkily, her wide eyes fastened on him as she approached, either unaware or unconcerned of the danger. Foolish female.

“You should not be here,” he bit out. “Go.”

Her bottom lip quivered in her wan, narrow face, and he felt his fury all the more keenly.

“Spencer, I want to—”

“No! I’m in no . . . condition for your company.”

She blinked and considered him for a moment in the lengthening shadows. She looked so solemn and young, the winter wind nipping her cheeks red. Like a child caught at mischief—the very picture of regret. The sight fed his dangerously swirling anger.

“The sight of you makes me . . .” His fist curled at his side, and he swallowed against the thickness of his throat. “Just go.”

She glanced from that fisted hand to his face, her blue eyes impossibly wide. So bloody innocent. But he knew that was an act.

After some moments, she murmured, “We need to talk.” She inhaled, her chest lifting. “You’re an honorable man. I don’t believe you’ll hurt me.”

“Then you’re a fool. Because what I’m feeling toward you right now is decidedly . . . unsafe.”

Her slight jaw locked at a stubborn angle. With her stare unwavering on his face, she took several more steps, her slippers crunching over packed snow. “If you would please hear me out—you must understand. I loved my sister.”

“Linnie,” he could not stop from snapping.

She nodded. “Yes. Half sister. She was so scared when she had Nicholas . . . I only wanted to help her. To stop my parents from tossing Nicholas out like he was rubbish.”

She was close now. Close enough for him to see the tiny flecks of gold in her blue eyes. Had he never noticed that before? Her lashes fanned her eyes in ink-dark webs.

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her against him. His fingers flexed against her slim arms. She winced but did not move, did not struggle, simply continued to stare at him with that damned solemn look, as if she were a bloody martyr and he the grand inquisitor, unfairly meting out punishment.

“How do you do that?” he growled, frustration bubbling up deep in his chest.