Page 48

Evan did not move. Instead, he merely stood there. And then, Hartenshire stumbled. Finally, he had realized the mistake he was making by squaring up to a duke.

“Something wrong, Lord Hartenshire?” Evan murmured, taunting him.

Hartenshire’s nostrils flared, his fists twitching at his sides, but he did not take another step forward.

Because now, he understood that he had already lost.

George, however, intervened first before any further words could be exchanged.

“Enough!” George bellowed, stepping between them. His face was red with fury though it was unclear whether it was directed more at Evan or at the Marquess himself.

Harry was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained rage.

“If what the Duke of Giltburg is saying has any merit, then this wedding cannot continue.” George turned to him, his voice sharp with finality.

Isadora blinked, standing up in the crowd now. She wanted to run over to her sister and cry happy tears, but the confrontation was not over just yet.

“I will not have my daughter married to a scoundrel who intends to use her fortune to clean up his own disgrace. Consider this wedding called off,” George said.

The father of the bride had spoken, and the Marquess had no more ground to stand on. His mouth opened as if to protest, but George cut him off.

“And I suggest you never darken my doorstep again.”

A stunned silence followed, broken only by the whispers that now swirled like a storm among the guests.

Harry looked like he would implode at any given moment. His entire body trembled with rage. But he was outnumbered. The damage had been done.

Isadora could hardly believe it.

She rushed over to Penelope, whose eyes were wide, her hands still gripping her bouquet. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Penelope exhaled, a shuddering breath of relief, and Isadora’s entire body loosened.

She barely heard the whispers of the guests around them, barely registered George mumbling something about how he could have been so deceived. None of it mattered.

The wedding had been stopped.

The moment the ceremony was officially called off, people began to rise, some pretending to be horrified while secretly thrilled by the gossip they would carry home. It would not take long for the word to spread.

But that was the least of Isadora’s concerns.

It had worked!

Public humiliation by a man who ranked higher in status. That was all it had taken. Had Isadora made the same claims, George would never have believed her. But even he—as awful as he was—had a reputation to protect.

“Oh, Isadora,” Penelope said, crying now. But with happy tears. “Did you plan this? Were you behind all of this?”

“I made a promise to you not to let you marry that horrible man. Now, please, let us get away from this mess. We shall never have to think of this again.”

“But how?” Penelope questioned, still in disbelief. “How did you manage to do this?”

“I told you before that it is my responsibility to protect you,” Isadora smiled, “so the means do not matter here. All that does is that you are not bound to that horrible man anymore.”

She grabbed her sister by the hand and began guiding her out of the church.

“Father seems like he will murder someone on sight.” Penelope was laughing now the relief was finally catching up to her.

“Best for us to stay out of his sight for now,” Isadora nodded. “He does look rather scary.”

Her father would be in a sour mood, no doubt. But that was the least of her concerns.

As the two women were about to step out, someone stopped her. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Evan Marwood. His hands were tucked lazily into the pockets of his coat.

“Congratulations on the second chance at freedom, Lady Penelope.” He grinned briefly at her sister before turning his attention to her.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Penelope began to shake her head. “I do not know how my sister managed to convince you to do what you did, but that was remarkable.”

Evan glanced at Isadora, who found herself suddenly growing shy under his gaze.

“Your sister has her methods,” he nodded, smirking. “That much I can see,” Evan continued and then stepped closer to Isadora.

Her heart thudded loudly against her chest.

“I believe I have something important to tell you. A moment, please?”

She let herself be guided to the corner of the church. Evan placed a loose hand over her shoulder, and she felt a buzz go through her.

There were some curious looks thrown their way, but the man had just done her a great favor. She could not deny him.

“Your Grace, thank you. I—you remained true to your word—” she rambled. “For a moment, I was worried that you were not going to show. And that I would have to stage another drama to stop this madness.”

Evan looked at her, amused.

“Did you think you could outdo my performance?” he challenged.

“No,” she shook her head. “Absolutely not. I am just incredibly thankful?—”

“Please stop that,” He raised his hand to stop her and then waved as though he had no interest in the praise. “I told you I am not one to disappoint. It would do you well to trust what I say.”

Her cheeks burned instantly. He was ordering her. In any other circumstance, she would have found it rather irritating, but it surprised her that this was not the case when it came from him.

No wonder he gets whatever he wants. He simply orders people around.

“You said that you had something to say to me. Wh—what did you wish to tell me?” she managed to splutter out, suddenly realizing that he was standing much closer to her than he ever had before.

“Ah, that,” he smirked. “Well, I think I should be rewarded for the great performance that I put on. Not only will the Marquess never bother you again, but I think he will exile himself entirely. This level of humiliation is hard to recover from.”

Isadora nodded. Good. That was exactly what she had hoped would happen. Men like him did not deserve to run free.

“My sister is so pleased with this,” Isadora continued, but Evan stopped her.

“You talk too much,” he said simply. “Now please, let me do the talking.”

A smile played on his lips as he regarded her. Isadora found herself listening to him again. Without warning, he leaned in. His breath was warm against her ear.

“You owe me, Lady Isadora,” he murmured. “Expect my visit.”

A slow shiver rolled through her. Before she could gather a response, he stepped away and strode off without another word.