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“Let us just say, Hartenshire and I… have crossed paths before.”

“And? You have something substantial on him? You can stop the wedding?” Isadora was looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Perhaps I can,” he said easily. Then he stopped just before her, close enough that she had to tip her head back to hold his gaze. “But first, there is the matter of my payment.”

Isadora blinked, thrown off balance.

“Payment?”

“This is business after all,” Evan smirked. “You cannot expect to come to me with a task of this scale and not expect to give me anything in return.”

This was the moment in which he expected her to back away, but instead, she surprised him. She brightened immediately, shoulders straightening. “Of course. You will be compensated for your services. I will pay you whatever you want.”

“Oh, no. I have no need for money, Lady Isadora. I am not seeking a monetary reward for my services.”

“Then… what is it that you require?” she asked, frowning.

His gaze darkened slightly, assessing her for a moment. “A favor. You said it yourself that you would owe me.”

The words settled between them, shifting the air in the room. He could see the way she processed them—her brows knitting slightly and her lips parting.

And then, something else. It was not fear—that much Evan could tell.

It was something that made him want to step just a fraction closer. She was uneasy, yes, but not because she thought he would hurt her.

Because she did not know what to make of him. Few did.

That was the moment Evan decided this game would be far more entertaining than he had initially thought.

“And what will this favor entail?” she asked carefully.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not tonight, Lady Isadora. You will know when the time comes.”

She clenched her jaw, and Evan could tell that she disliked the control she had in this situation.

“Now go,” he said easily, “and wait for my next move.”

“Not before you give me your word. I need assurance,” she sparred stubbornly.

“You cannot possibly get everything you want. So unfortunately, in this scenario, you have no option but to wait.”

For the first time since she arrived, she hesitated. Just for a second.

“I shall wait for you,” she conceded. “But I am putting my hopes in you. Please do not disappoint me.”

“I never do,” he smirked.

Then, gathering herself, she turned sharply toward the door, moving as though she had suddenly remembered she should not have been here at all.

Evan let his gaze follow her until she disappeared down the dimly lit hall.

And when the door finally shut behind her, he let out a quiet laugh to himself.

Heavens. Not how he had planned to spend his time, but now, it seemed that he had a wedding to sabotage.

The grand hall was suffocating. The day of the wedding had finally arrived.

She had not heard from Evan since that night in his study.

Of course, he had let her down. She had been foolish to place all of her trust into him without thinking of another plan. And now that she stood in the audience, she began to feel as though she had lost this battle.

The officiant’s voice droned on, a low murmur swallowed by the hum of anticipation in the crowd.

The Marquess of Hartenshire stood tall at the altar, his expression smug beneath the careful mask of solemnity.

He barely spared Penelope a glance, his attention instead flicking to the crowd.

He was basking in his victory with George right at his side; they were allies.

Isadora’s nails bit into her palm. It was a feeling of helplessness she had never before experienced, not to such a degree.

He was not going to show.

Isadora was silently panicking, but now, it was too late for her to do anything else. She had placed all of her trust into the Duke, and he had not even showed.

I have failed her, Isadora thought to herself, her heart clenching at the thought.

She could have approached it in a different manner. Perhaps she could have addressed the problem at its source and asked her father to put an end to this again. Pleaded, even.

Penelope looked at the crowd again and met Isadora’s gaze. There was something so helpless in it that Isadora felt as though she would burst into tears in front of everyone.

I had one duty to do, and that was to ensure that my sister would not end trapped in a situation that would be bad for her.

And she had failed.

Her father’s voice began to ring in her ears, the same voice that had always berated her for not being enough. Her hands began to shake, and for a moment, she wondered what would happen if she went forward and stopped the wedding herself.

I could accuse him of having an affair , Isadora thought, her mind running wild in all directions. That he courted me and then married my sister .

It would ruin her own reputation forever, of course, but it would save Penelope from getting into this awful mess.

Isadora shifted in her seat, willing herself to stand. If this was what it was going to take, then she was going to do it.

The officiant turned to Penelope and then the audience. “We have gathered here this morning to celebrate the union of?—”

Isadora felt as though her knees would give way, and she would fall over.

Now is the time, she told herself. Put a stop to it.

But before any action could be taken, and before the officiant could continue, a loud thud from the church doors opening interrupted them.

All eyes turned to the back of the church, gasps rippling through the crowd. And then, as everyone was in a state of collective shock, there was only silence. Isadora’s breath caught.

Evan Marwood stood in the doorway.

He had kept his promise!

Oh, the relief that washed over her was immense. He was late, infuriatingly so, but he had arrived at last.

To his credit, the Duke was calm, as if he had simply arrived late to an ordinary gathering. There was no rush in his stance, no apology in his expression. He surveyed the room, eyes sweeping past the horrified onlookers. Then, at last, he found Isadora.

He had the audacity to wink at her before shifting his attention to the altar.

“Ah,” he said, his voice cutting clean through the heavy silence. “Very sorry to interrupt this little gathering, but I do believe there has been an unfortunate mistake.”

At the altar, the Marquess looked ready to murder him. His face twisted with fury, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his fists.

“What is the meaning of this?” he yelled.

Evan, however, did not even glance at him. Instead, he turned smoothly to George Morton, who stood frozen in his place, his mouth slightly ajar as if trying to process what had just happened.

“I have come here to collect my payments,” he announced, simply. When he noticed the astonished expressions on everyone’s face, he explained further.

“Oh, is this a surprise to you?” Evan said, his tone almost conversational, “I suppose Hartenshire forgot to mention his towering debts before he planned this wedding.”

George blinked, his confusion evident. “Debts? No, he had assured me that his business had been doing rather well.”

“Ah. I see. Then he must have forgotten to mention them. I cannot say I am surprised. The Marquess has a tendency to play up his worth, pretend to be a rich man when the reality is far from it.”

George’s face darkened as he turned slowly toward Harry, whose already ruddy complexion deepened to a darker shade of red.

“Is this true?” George demanded.

Harry’s jaw twitched. “This is absurd. There are no debts to speak of. His Grace seems to have some personal grudge against me.”

Evan shrugged his shoulders. Isadora could not help but notice how sure of himself he seemed at every step—like he feared no one. It was not the stance of someone who had just interrupted a wedding.

If it had been Isadora in his place, she would have been shaking from the anticipation alone.

“There is no personal grudge, no.” The Duke walked to the front, now facing the audience. “Lord Hartenshire owes half the ton money including me. An amount, I might add, that greatly exceeds his current wealth. I suppose he forgot to mention that to you, Lord Morton.”

The reaction was instant. More gasps, some nods of approval, and heads turning to one another in disbelief.

“Ah, see?” Evan smirked. “Even some of the people in here seem to agree with me. How pitiful is that?” Evan turned to the Lord. “Did you manage to borrow money from everyone on the face of this planet?”

“He has not said anything about borrowing money from me,” George answered though he appeared quite furious.

“Not directly, but do you really think he is marrying your daughter from the goodness of his heart?” Evan challenged. “Or perhaps because he stands to gain something in terms of material wealth?”

“That is quite the accusation. Is he telling the truth?” George asked Harry, turning red.

Harry’s expression turned murderous. “The Duke is just trying to cause trouble. Who among us does not have a few debts?” he said, trying to defend himself though his tone lacked any sort of conviction. “I will pay back every single one of them soon enough,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Evan’s lips curled into something almost resembling a smile. “Pay them back. But the last I heard was that you had exhausted all of your personal means and are on the verge of bankruptcy. So, I wonder, will it be Lady Morton’s dowry that allows you to do so?”

Harry’s face resembled that of a child who had been caught by a parent doing something naughty.

“H—how dare you? What do you have against me?”

“It is a matter of honor, you see. Not a personal grudge,” he continued. “One I could not, in good conscience, ignore. I felt it my duty to inform the people it affects—before it is too late.”

That was all it took.

With a wordless growl, Harry stormed forward, fists clenched at his sides, his entire body seething with rage as he charged down the aisle toward Evan.