Life seems to have led me here for some reason... Evander paused to properly contemplate the thought, turning it over in his mind. He often had questioned life, for whatever had become of his: for how often it seemed to have unwelcome things to throw at him; for how little it, in spite of his best efforts, had gone to plan.
But perhaps things were slowly, finally, unbelievably, falling into place? Alfred was back in the country, for one. And Evander had Charity now, who gave him purpose if nothing else (and that was being uncharitable to her; she gave him a great deal more than that); and Charity had a good guiding hand in her governess, which was its own stroke of luck – and Evander marvelled at his own evident good judgement again. And he had –
Caroline. Something both in Miss Clearwater’s abrupt change of tack and a growing rash of uncomfortably hotness on his own face brought Evander sharply back to the facts. Caroline was probably in the midst of sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and Evander was sitting about drinking with the governess?
“It’s – fine,” Evander got out, jaw suddenly very tight; every clattering noise of the teacup she’d given him was somehow magnified in his ears as he stood up in haste, desperate to be rid of the evidence of any moment of comfort or consolation whilst his fiancée was suffering. “Thank you. But I – I should let you go to bed,” Evander said, as much an admonishment as it was an apology; perhaps Miss Clearwater had been too effective a distraction. “I ought to get to bed, myself.” He could not quite meet her eye now, as he nodded curtly, extinguished the light nearest him, and made a beeline for the door, the stairs, and the dreadful sleepless night which inevitably awaited him.
But perhaps things were slowly, finally, unbelievably, falling into place? Alfred was back in the country, for one. And Evander had Charity now, who gave him purpose if nothing else (and that was being uncharitable to her; she gave him a great deal more than that); and Charity had a good guiding hand in her governess, which was its own stroke of luck – and Evander marvelled at his own evident good judgement again. And he had –
Caroline. Something both in Miss Clearwater’s abrupt change of tack and a growing rash of uncomfortably hotness on his own face brought Evander sharply back to the facts. Caroline was probably in the midst of sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and Evander was sitting about drinking with the governess?
“It’s – fine,” Evander got out, jaw suddenly very tight; every clattering noise of the teacup she’d given him was somehow magnified in his ears as he stood up in haste, desperate to be rid of the evidence of any moment of comfort or consolation whilst his fiancée was suffering. “Thank you. But I – I should let you go to bed,” Evander said, as much an admonishment as it was an apology; perhaps Miss Clearwater had been too effective a distraction. “I ought to get to bed, myself.” He could not quite meet her eye now, as he nodded curtly, extinguished the light nearest him, and made a beeline for the door, the stairs, and the dreadful sleepless night which inevitably awaited him.
