Chapter 55
Jealousy gnawed at him. They both knew it was just talk, that nothing would actually come of it. But still, it couldn’t be allowed–just couldn’t.
He could only speak to him; it was better if his eyes looked only at him.
Alistair Edwards closed his eyes and felt the gentle breeze brush against his cheek. He thought of Elowen Howard, delicate and fragile, with her water–bright eyes and the hint of a smile that softened his heart. He opened his eyes and turned to his brother,
where Gareth Edwards, casting a meaningful glance his way. “You’re getting to the age you should be courting someone. If you have your eye on a girl, make sure to tell Mother. She’ll surely help you.”
Gareth’s voice dropped to a murmur, a hint of disappointment threading through it, and he couldn’t bring himself to look Alistair in the eye. “Yeah.”
“Let’s head inside. Father is back.‘
“Alright.”
Tristan Edwards was in a surprisingly good mood today. Even when facing his older son, whom he didn’t particularly care for, he managed not to wear a frown. He exchanged a rare, good–natured word with Alistair. “Everything is settled with Quinton.”
“Good to hear.”
“As long as there were no complications.”
Seraphina Howard squeezed her chopsticks nervously. It seemed her family was unaware of Alistair’s injury–everyone except her. He didn’t bring it up himself, and now that their father was asking, he remained tight–lipped ràther than wallowing in self–pity.
Tristan downed a shot of whiskey, a broad grin spreading across his face as he looked at his two sons, particularly his youngest, the one he held so dear. “You two better make me proud and not embarrass the Edwards name out there. Gareth, being Dr. Fletcher’s student is a great opportunity. You need to make the most of it, got it?”
Difficult to Escape a Doting Wife
Gareth’s brow furrowed. He hated it when their father praised him in front of Alistair. “Dad, I know what I’m doing. I’m going to study, not to suck up to anyone.”
Besides, it was clear Dr. Fletcher wouldn’t appreciate a know–nothing sycophant.
Tristan noticed Gareth’s reluctance to discuss it and immediately dropped the subject. “Alright, alright, I won’t bring it up.”
Elowen pretended not to hear as she focused on her food. Alistair served her two glistening pieces of meat. “Eat up.‘
”
Elowen, a meat lover, found the Edwards family cuisine bland–watered–down flavors with no spice or richness. She didn’t expect Alistair to be so attentive.
During the meal, Elowen barely participated, letting Alistair serve her without protest. He didn’t seem to mind doing it at all, not showing a hint of impatience.
She kept her words to a minimum, blending into the background. Tristan didn’t care for her much either, hardly sparing her a glance throughout the meal.
Since Gareth wasn’t of age, Tristan restricted him from drinking, allowing Alistair to
share a few drinks with him instead.
As the evening wore on and Tristan indulged a bit too much, he finally set down his glass, visibly tipsy, and needed help to get up.
Alistair was not in much better shape; his ears were red, though his pale complexion didn’t betray him. His expression was still one of the cool, untouchable elegance he
always wore.
He and Elowen intended to leave soon, but just before reaching the door, Tristan’s wife called out to Elowen, her eyes clouded with concern. “Elowen, you don’t look so well.”
Elowen instinctively touched her cheek. “Oh, really? I feel fine.”
Tristan’s wife continued, “You seem a bit pale. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were ill.”
Difficult to Escape a Doting Wife were ill.
Elowen forced a smile. She hadn’t felt unwell–just tired from the past few days.” might have put on too much powder today, hence the pale look.”
Still not convinced, Tristan’s wife handed her a small bag of tonics. “Here, take these. A woman can’t afford to neglect her health–Cedric Edwards is counting on you to give him a little brother or sister soon.”
Alistair intercepted the bag before Elowen could take it, thanking Tristan’s wife before pulling Elowen’s hand, guiding her out.
As they returned to her quarters, Elowen sighed. She figured the tonics would never make it into her mouth. Sure enough, as soon as they entered, Alistair tossed the bag to a servant, coolly instructing, “Discard that.”
There it was—the undeniable demonstration of Alistair’s domineering nature.
How annoying.
Suddenly, Alistair wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. “Whatever you want to eat, I’ll get it for you. Don’t eat what others give you.”
Only what he provided.
Elowen was at a loss for words; she didn’t dare touch his offerings either.
Alistair carried a faint scent of alcohol as he lifted his head, tracing her face with his fingertips. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and with a slight smile, he said, likely under the influence of the drink, “You know? Gareth likes you.”
That was his younger brother–noticing the innocent, youthful sentiment hidden in that bright gaze was something Alistair couldn’t overlook.
