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“What propriety?” her redheaded friend scoffed. “It is your wedding, and you are to be a duchess. Propriety will be whatever you decide it would be.”

“Scarlett does have a point.” Phoebe hid a smile behind her cup. “Things are different when you become a duchess. Whatever you decide to wear to your wedding will simply become the new fashion.”

Scarlett grinned widely. “Exciting times ahead, I should say. Lady Spalding will be choking to take back her words once you are married.”

“Or maybe not,” Evie quipped. “Perhaps she would simply come up with something else to throw at me.”

“She would not dare. Not if she wants to make an enemy of your husband.”

Evie set her cup down. “I do not know. His Grace might not bother with an annoying fly like Lady Spalding anyway.”

Daniel already knew her identity and had expressed no desire to go after her. Besides, he had better things to do than rooting out a petty gossip writer.

It would be a poor waste of his talents.

Evie choked back her laughter.

No, Daniel would never…

“Well, any gentleman can be pushed to do the most drastic things for the object of their affection,” Scarlett pointed out. “One need not go far to search for an example—there is the Duke of Blackthorn. Everybody was so certain he was averse to marriage, and well, look at him now.”

“The only problem is that the Duke of Blackthorn isnotlike the Duke of Ashton,” Phoebe pointed out primly.

“It all depends on dear Evie’s performance.” The redhead smiled mischievously. “I think that your best chance at happiness in this union—as unholy as it might sound right now—is for you to simply seduce your betrothed!”

“As if I would ever do that!” Evie gasped, horrified.

Seduce Daniel? Was she mad? Looking for a way to humiliate herself?

How did one go about seducing one of the renowned Wolves?

Such a ploy was only going to end in miserable failure, and Evie had no plans of being miserable or a failure in the near future.

All she wanted to do was survive this blow to her reputation, rebuild it byconvenientlybecoming the Duchess of Ashton, and live out the rest of her life in peace.

Even if it was going to be boring. She had no desire to live on the edge, in any case.

“Why not?” Scarlett persisted. “Do you not find him attractive enough? I do not care much for his wolfish allure, but?—”

“It is not that,” Evie cut in quickly.

Not find him attractive? She had never been so attracted to a man before that it was almost embarrassing!

But finding someone attractive and outright seducing him were two entirely different things, not to mention that her friend was suggesting she seduce the Duke of Ash himself—a man capableof reducing numerous women to tears with merely a withering glare.

Evie shuddered inwardly.

I have no desire to join their ranks, thank you very much!

“Then whatever is the matter?” Scarlett asked, her curiosity sufficiently piqued.

“Well, I suppose you might not have noticed, but there is the matter with the Marchioness of Cobham,” Evie muttered.

“Oh.” Scarlett pouted. “That one.”

Evie nodded. “Precisely.”

If Daniel had all the charm of a fallen angel, then the Marchioness was like the embodiment of sin itself. Seduction in the flesh.