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And you might learn to hate me for it even more.

“Just let it go.”

She smiled sadly at him. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

She left him with her head held high, her back ramrod straight. They had barely been married for an hour and she already possessed the aura of a true duchess.

Caroline was right—Evie would make a fine duchess. He just wished that he had not made her that way. That he was not the one to harden her heart and steal the sunshine from her smiles.

But if it was the only way to spare her from any further pain that he might inflict on her, then he supposed he could learn to live with it. Just as he learned to live with everything else.

Hemust.

CHAPTER 21

It was the most dreadful inconvenience to have to walk back to one’s own wedding breakfast on wobbly legs, as Evie soon found out to her great discomfort. Fortunately, no one seemed to have missed her in her absence, and as soon as she walked back into the party, she was whisked into a flurry of greetings and well-wishes and the like once more.

She supposed this was much better than having to make sense of what Daniel truly wanted. In that aspect, she truly was at a loss. There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes when he kissed her—that much was true—but then, he distanced himself once more and pushed her away.

What was he so worried about? They were both married now, and although it was highly unusual for couples to actually have a deep affection—and maybedesire—for each other, it was what everybody secretly wanted and hoped for. Otherwise, why would the esteemed members of thetoncontinue in their aimless search for love outside of marriage?

And they say that women do not know what they want.How dreadfully troublesome is it to have to convince one’s husband on certain… matters.

“Your Grace, I must congratulate you on such a beautiful wedding,” a sultry voice penetrated through her confusion. “You must forgive my lack of etiquette for showing up without an invitation. His Grace and I are… well, you could say we are old acquaintances.”

The woman who spoke stood before her, the very picture of allure, with her dark hair pulled up in a simple yet elegant fashion. She appeared to be slightly older than Evie, with a smile that hinted at seduction and dark eyes that spoke of forbidden secrets. Her attire, although still within the bounds of propriety, still had a lower neckline than Evie or the other ladies might have worn.

The Marchioness of Cobham truly was a beautiful woman.

Jealousy, cold and insidious, slithered in Evie’s veins as she recalled the look the Marchioness had given Daniel that one time at the ball. She knew that the Marchioness and her husband were more familiar with each other.

Certainly more familiar than I am with him.

But a guest, even one who had not been invited as the Marchioness was, must still be treated with courtesy.

“Oh no, Lady Cobham, you must not say such words. I cannot have you feeling unwelcome here at Ashton Hall.” Evie smiled back at her, even though the words grated on her. “Not in my own wedding, at least.”

The Marchioness looked at her with some surprise, and then a slow smile formed on her lips. “His Grace has always been aloof, you could say. We—the Marquess and I—never expected him to find someone so young and…bright.”

That somehow does not sound quite right…

But then again, it was notinappropriateeither, although Evie thought it was a highly unusual thing to say to a bride and at her own wedding.

“Ah… Thank you, Lady Cobham,” she managed with a polite smile.

“In any case, I am happy that myold friendhas finally found happiness.”

The Marchioness smiled at her in that mysterious way of hers once more, before she politely excused herself to join her husband. Evie could only stare after her as her mind replayed that rather odd and unexpected conversation. Truly, she did not know what she should make of it.

Or if there was any point in looking into it any further.

“Evie.”

She turned around to find Scarlett and Phoebe looking at her concern, their lips pulled into tight smiles.

“I saw you talking to the Marchioness of Cobham,” the redhead began. “If she said anything?—”

“She was not causing trouble of any sort, I assure you,” Evie quickly corrected her friend.