Page 46

“ M y help?”

Evan leaned back in his chair, studying the woman before him with idle curiosity.

Isadora Morton.

He had heard of her before in passing. Daughter of the Earl of Young and very protective of her younger sister.

He knew of her friends, who happened to be married to some of his own.

But never had they ever spoken to one another.

And never had he expected her to be standing in the middle of his study like this.

A lady of rank standing before him at an hour no proper woman should. Her cloak was damp from the night air, her cheeks flushed, whether from the cold or sheer audacity, he did not know.

But she had caught his interest.

Evan lifted a brow and gestured lazily to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

She hesitated but only for a moment before lowering herself onto the seat, her back straight.

“I have to say your methods are quite… unconventional, Lady Isadora, but you have succeeded in getting my attention. Now, what is it that you want? Has this something to do with… what were the names… Duchess Violet and Duchess Daphne?”

Isadora shook her head immediately. “Not in the slightest, Your Grace. I have not come here on behalf of my friends.”

His brow arched slightly. “Then, what is it that you want?”

“This has to do with my sister.”

Something about the way she said it made him pause.

“Your sister.” He leaned forward slightly. “And what has your sister done that requires my involvement?”

“She is to be married.”

Evan blinked once then exhaled a soft laugh. “Congratulations.”

Isadora’s expression did not change.

“You do not look particularly overjoyed, Lady Isadora. I must assume, then, that the match is… less than ideal?”

“That is one way to put it,” she sighed, sounding defeated.

Evan could not say that he was surprised. He had heard that story before. For a society that made such a fuss about matchmaking, it was truly fascinating just how often matches turned out to be the wrong ones.

“And what, precisely, do you expect me to do about it?”

Evan was no matchmaker. If anything, he kept his distance from the whole charade. He could not understand for the life of him why she had opted to seek his help of all people.

“I need you to stop the wedding.”

It took a moment for her request to register and then a low chuckle escaped his lips.

“That is a new one. I do not think I am the right person for the job.”

“You must at least hear me out, please.” She shifted slightly in her seat. “I would not have come if it were not… necessary. The man she is set to marry—he is not a good man. He is a rake; his reputation is unlawful. I cannot let my sister ruin her life by marrying him.”

He let the word hang between them for a moment then sighed dramatically. “Well, Lady Isadora, I must confess—this is quite the predicament.”

“Are you mocking me? I have come out here to seek your help.” Her voice rose in irritation.

“Not at all,” he said though the amused glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

“It is simply that I fail to see how I could be of service. If your sister is determined to marry this man, there is very little I can do. After all, if she is choosing him over you, I fear you must accept that the better woman has won.”

“I wish that were the case.” Isadora shook her head.

“So, the villain in question is not a man of her choosing?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “No. My sister is betrothed to a rake—one only my father deems worthy.”

Evan exhaled a mock sigh of relief. “Well, that is entirely different then. For a moment, I feared I was being asked to interfere in a grand love affair.”

“There is no love in this arrangement,” she clarified immediately. “And there never shall be. He is a scoundrel.”

Evan smirked. “We are off to a promising start.”

“He is a known rake.”

“As were half the men at Almack’s last week,” Evan shrugged.

“He is known to gamble away his fortunes and has accrued considerable debts!”

“Who among us does not enjoy a bit of sport?”

With each passing retort, her patience seemed to grow thinner. The Duke was having fun pushing her like this.

If for nothing other than payback for requesting his presence at such an odd hour.

“He has no sense of propriety, Your Grace. You do not understand; he is a bad man. And he is much older than her.”

“Some prefer that. They believe that with age comes a certain kind of wisdom.”

“I cannot believe that you are not yet seeing the error in his ways.” Her tone tinged with frustration. “He has ruined reputations and left women in scandal.”

Evan leaned forward slightly. “Then, Lady Isadora, I must ask—are you concerned for your sister’s welfare… or simply disappointed that he has not yet turned his sights on you?”

Isadora shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor. He had finally pushed her to the limit. Evan was surprised it took that long—usually people snapped a lot quicker when he tested them like this.

“I have made a grave mistake in coming here. This is a colossal waste of my time,” she fumed.

“Now, now. I am merely offering you a counter argument. You need not get so worked up over it.”

She turned toward the door, her breath tight in her chest. “Worked up over it? Forgive me, Your Grace, if I am not too interested in debate when my sister’s fate hangs in the balance. You are clearly more interested in jesting than actually helping.”

Evan exhaled then stood. She was no fun. “No need to be dramatic, Lady Isadora. You seem to take everything to heart. “

She spun to face him, her eyes blazing. “You mock me and then chide me for having a reaction.”

“Oh, no. You are much mistaken.” His lips curled into a smirk. “I do not mock, ever. I only observe.”

She exhaled through her nose, turning back toward the door and reaching out to turn the handle. Evan watched her carefully.

But just before she could leave, he spoke again.

“Tell me, Lady Isadora… just how far are you willing to go to stop this wedding?”

She froze and turned back to him, slowly.

“I care about my sister more than anyone else in this world. I need your cooperation at any price.”

Ah. There was a sincerity in her voice.

“Careful.”

“Careful of what?” There was a slight edge to her voice—one born out of true desperation though she did not let it show in her expression.

“Of offering anything without considering the cost.” He pursed his lips. It was not every day that a situation like this presented itself to him.

“I know exactly what I am saying,” she said firmly.

“Do you?”

“I do,” she insisted. “If it takes bargaining, if it takes persuasion, if it takes—” She hesitated just a second too long..

“If it takes what, Lady Isadora?” Evan smirked.

“It does not matter. I will do whatever I must.” She exhaled, shaking her head.

“ Whatever you must,” Evan hummed.

“Yes,” she said, her voice stronger now. “I will not stand aside while my father condemns my sister to a life she does not want.”

“You are quite passionate about this,” he said, but that much was obvious. What else would compel a lady of her standing to visit him at an ungodly hour like this? He realized that he had already made a decision, and now, he was just… playing with her.

She was fun to play with.

“I am. And you are capable of stopping it,” she repeated.

“And why should I stop it?” he asked her.

“Because you can. Because you have influence, power—things I do not have.”

“True,” he shrugged. That was the answer he had expected.

“And because you are not a cruel man,” she added quickly, watching him closely. Now that caught him off guard.

It was not usual for him to be recognized for his generosity of all things.

“Who told you that?”

“I… assumed,” she stammered.

“I see.” His expression gave nothing away. “You assume I am not cruel simply because I have not been cruel to you.”

“I do not think you are without cruelty, but I do not think you are heartless either,” she swallowed.

Clever girl.

She was playing to his empathy now. Though—it was a surprise that she had assumed he had any.

“Help me,” she pressed, stepping closer now. “You have the ability to put an end to this marriage to him.”

“Yes, but,” he interrupted, “that does not mean I intervene in matters that do not concern me.”

“You have nothing to lose, Your Grace. And if you do this… if you help me…” She exhaled, gathering herself. “Then I owe you.”

His eyes flickered at that.

Ah.

I owe you.

They were words he had heard many times before in many situations when he had pulled people out of trouble. But somehow, they had never sounded so sweet as they did now.

“Very well,” he murmured.

“You will help?”

“I never said that,” he teased even though he had already made his decision long before.

Frustration flared across her features. “Then what?—?”

“I said,” he interrupted, stepping forward until there was only a breath of space between them, “that you have my interest.”

She swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he murmured, “that I enjoy seeing how far you are willing to go.”

“Then tell me what it takes.” She refused to back down. Even now. Stopping this wedding really meant something to her.

“Well, Lady Isadora, that makes things simple,” he mused, retreating now. “If I am to stop a wedding, I need only something useful against the groom. One cannot destroy a man’s prospects without the proper leverage.”

“Leverage?” Isadora frowned. “That should not be difficult. He is a rake after all.”

“Yes, so you’ve mentioned more than a few times now.”

“But beyond that, I do not know much.”

At that, a slow smirk spread across Evan’s lips. He made a quiet sound of amusement. “What is his name?”

“The Marquess of Hartenshire,” she announced bitterly.

“Oh.”

“You know him?” Isadora’s eyes narrowed.

Evan let out a short chuckle. He knew him all too well.

“Well then,” he murmured, stepping around the desk, coming toward her now. “That clears things up beautifully.”

“What do you mean? Can you state things clearly?”

Now where was the fun in that?