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“Lady Petunia,” Evie said with a genuine smile at the elderly woman before her.

They’d met two nights ago and chatted over a plate of supper.

The woman had a lively mind and wicked humor, and a forthright nature.

Unfortunately, she was also Lord Hamilton’s aunt, which could not be easy considering his reputation.

“Did you enjoy the performance?” Lady Petunia asked. The words were fired at her like hail on a windowpane. Perhaps there were some similarities between her and her nephew after all. “I saw you were seated beside my nephew.”

Evie nodded. She would say nothing further because no good could come of insulting the man who shared Lady Petunia’s blood.

“We loved it,” Prue said before Evie could speak.

“Miss Spencer, would you allow me this dance?”

She hid the need to flee at the deep words. Instead, she smiled up at Lord Cavendish.

“Lady Petunia, Miss Prudence Spencer, if you will excuse us,” he then said, before Evie had agreed to dance with him.

Hand forced, she followed him to the floor. Looking over her shoulder she saw the frown on Lady Petunia’s face and wondered what had put it there?

At least it was not to be a waltz, so she could put some distance between herself and Lord Cavendish.

Since entering society, he’d sought her out constantly, and she felt uncomfortable around him.

What she couldn’t work out was why she had found favor with him when there were plenty of other prettier woman who were younger, titled.

Plus, they had dowries, which she did not.

“I would like to call upon you and take you driving, Miss Spencer,” he said when the music had started, and they were dancing. “There is also a picnic I will accompany both you and your sister to.”

“I am, of course, honored,” Evie lied. “However, I am unsure of our movements at this stage, my lord.” She scrambled for excuses.

“You will come driving with me and attend that picnic, Miss Spencer. Your beauty has bewitched me, and I will not take no for an answer.”

“Lord Cavendish, I’m here to look after my sister—”

“You are too beautiful to be a chaperone.” He dismissed her words, which made Evie’s teeth snap together. She hated anyone doing that.

“Thank you for your kind words,” she choked out.

She looked around for anything to distract him. Her eyes found Lord Hamilton’s. He gave her a mocking bow, and Evie thought seriously about poking out her tongue, but knew someone other than he could see it.

“They are the truth,” Lord Cavendish said as the dance finished and he led her back to where Prue stood chatting with a group of people. “I will return shortly, with some refreshment for you and your sister.”

She watched him walk away from her and wondered why men always believed they knew what was best for women? Her father, of course, was the exception to that rule. He rarely knew what day it was.

Both Spencer sisters knew that one of them needed a husband, and Evie had decided Prue was their best prospect.

However, Lord Cavendish was rich and titled, or so she believed, and seemed interested in her.

What she couldn’t understand was why? It would not do for her to insult him, but if she was honest, she had no wish to spend her life with the man if that was his intention.

Which makes you selfish, as your family needs financial security.

“Miss Spencer, how lovely to see you again.”

Happy to be dragged from her thoughts, Evie turned to look at the lady standing behind her.

“Lady Agatha.” Evie dipped into a curtsey.

This was another of Lord Hamilton’s aunts, of which there were three.

It was something she could not quite reconcile with the rude lord.

He had three delightful aunts, two who seemed to have soft edges and loved to gossip, and one who was forthright but equally lovely.

“Do you know my nephew well, Miss Spencer?” Lady Agatha stared hard at Evie after these words.

“I don’t, my lady.”

“Lovely boy. We, his aunts, dote on him, you know.”

Dear lord, why?

“He is exceedingly lucky to have you, I’m sure,” Evie said when nothing else came to mind. That anyone would want to dote on that man was completely beyond her.

“Excellent rider, and of course, titled and wealthy. He has all his own teeth, you know, and is admired by both men and women,” she continued.

This conversation was growing odder and odder. Evie looked at Prue, but she was chatting with two young ladies and no help at all.

“He, ah, he sounds a wonderful man.”

Lady Agatha beamed, all the wrinkles in her face flattening as she did so.

“His reputation does not portray him accurately you see, my dear. He is misjudged and is quite gentle when you get to know him.”

Her eyes found him a short distance away, leaning against a wall, looking bored with a glass in hand.

He bowed his head as two young ladies scurried past sending him fearful looks.

It took clenching every muscle in Evie’s body to stop from laughing hysterically.

Gentle? She knew a sow that had the same mean disposition as him.

Clearly, his aunt was not right in the head. She turned back to Lady Agatha.

“Do you like lavender, Miss Spencer?”

“It has a lovely aroma,” Evie said.

“Well, let me tell you about its healing properties.”

This, Evie thought, had to be the oddest conversation she’d ever had in society, but she found herself liking the woman who thought her horrid nephew was misjudged, even if she was deluded.