Storm Reawakened

Death Comes to the Villainess

"Kill me? But who would..." the words die in my throat. Who am I kidding? Basically everyone but Duke Storm wants Evara dead.

Stumbling with my footing, I have to lean against a bench to catch my breath. It's either my nerves or the corset...or both.

The Duke, as the certified asshole that he is, takes a step forward and merely looks uncomfortable with a brow that furrows deeply.

"I don't know what has made you come to reason, and as much as I'm overjoyed by the thought of you finally maturing, I must find out who is behind this. Otherwise, it's an insult to the Hawthorne name."

My lips form into a sneer and I let the venom drip from my tone. "I'm sorry if the Hawthorne name is worth more than my life, but I have no intention of stepping onto Hawthorne property ever again. If you think I'll be killed on your grounds, then you're gravely mistaken. I'm sure whoever wants me dead, will kill me in my sleep and you can wash your hands clean of any blood that's been spilt."

"That's highly unfair," he said plainly, somehow surprised by the onslaught of words.

"Excuse me, but the last time I checked it's my life on the line and not yours, so why should you care what happens to a villainess heiress? If you want to catch the person responsible for tarnishing your family's name then do so, but I have to save my neck and will be packing my bags."

Grunting, I flip my hair and huff before marching back indoors where I briskly make it back to Evara's quarters. I've finally found the one thing—although terrifying, to get me out of the capital. If someone is out to kill Evara then it's the perfect excuse to flee to the countryside.

Without hesitating, I hurry down the hall and ask the guard by the Duke's study to announce me before entering the grand study. Heading straight for the desk where the Duke scribbles something with a quill, I clear my throat to grab his attention.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Father, in light of what Duke Hawthorne has revealed, I believe it's best for me to remain in the countryside for the time being."

"A very sensible decision Evara, you're usually crying to stay for the social season but if you think you can live without your parties and gowns then I'll happily have the head of servants make arrangements."

"Thank you."

"And Evara, I am truly sorry," he said, finally looking and rubbing his tired eyes.

"For what father?"

"I misjudged and misinterpreted your attachment to Duke Hawthorne. I asked him to do the honourable thing and accept your hand in marriage for nearly having you killed on his property."

For the millionth time since transmigrating to this strange world, the blood drains from my skin and a look of pure horror is cast over my face.

"I'm assuming his grace had sense enough to decline," I rasped, grasping the edge of the desk until my knuckles go pale.

Why? When the hell did taking responsibility for a supposed suicidal act equate to marriage?

"On the contrary, the young man accepted. He told me he'll make the announcement but if this has been a gross interpretation of your relationship with him, then you can formally decline his proposal."

Just kill me. Kill me now.