Page 12 of His Graceful Duchess (A Lady’s Vow #3)

CHAPTER 12

“ T his shouldn’t be too difficult,” Evan muttered to himself.

He was in a private meeting room at Whitehall Club. His dark eyes swept lazily over the assembled men, his fingers idly toying with the rim of his glass.

He gave nothing away—not irritation, not eagerness, not even a hint of interest. He let the silence stretch, his expression unreadable, until the other men grew restless.

Silence unsettled people. Evan had learned that long ago.

And it worked.

Mercer, a rotund man with thinning hair and a nose that was perpetually red, dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief as he faced Evan. He was an old-school businessman—the kind who had always relied on his title to protect him from failure.

The problem, of course, was that titles could not buy competence. And Mercer had very little of that to spare.

“You were saying, Mercer?” Ambrose prompted, his voice smooth. He had accompanied Evan to make the deal as he often did.

Mercer cleared his throat. “Yes, yes—well, as I was saying, the investment opportunity is… substantial.”

Evan did not even blink.

“And yet, you have failed to give me a single figure that suggests so.”

“I—well—” Mercer blanched.

Evan set his glass down with a soft clink, the first real movement he had made in minutes. He leaned forward slightly.

“I do not do business on vague assurances, Mercer. Do you understand that?” His voice was low.

“It is a developing property—” Mercer swallowed.

“That is another way of saying it is worthless until someone fixes your mistakes,” Evan cut in smoothly.

“Now see here, Marwood—” Mercer’s face darkened.

“I do see,” Evan interrupted. When in a situation like this, he preferred to always maintain the upper hand.

Ambrose sighed, rubbing his temple. “Mercer, you knew before you came here that Marwood does not tolerate incompetence.”

“The mill is profitable, I tell you. Given time—” Mercer scowled.

“Time is something a wise man accounts for in his dealings. You, on the other hand, are asking me to shoulder the time it will take for your mistakes to become profitable,” Evan replied.

Mercer’s cheeks were nearly purple now.

“It is an opportunity, Your Grace. You know this surely.”

Oh he did. But conceding that would be no way to cut a deal. He hadn’t gotten his reputation for ruthlessness over nothing.

“No. It is an attempt to make your problem my problem,” he said instead.

A silence settled between them. Mercer’s anger wavered, and in its place, something else took shape—doubt.

Evan watched it happen.

He had seen it a hundred times before—the moment when a man realized he was outmatched. It was the perfect time to strike.

“I will take the mill,” he said suddenly, his voice so calm that Mercer almost looked relieved.

But he wasn’t finished talking yet.

“At half your asking price.” Evan concluded with a smirk.

“ Half?” Mercer nearly choked. “You cannot be serious.”

Evan lifted a brow. “I have never been more serious.”

Mercer sputtered. “That is theft.”

“No,” Evan corrected. “That is what your mill is actually worth.”

Mercer’s nostrils flared. “That is robbery.”

“If that is the case,” Evan shrugged, “then do not sell.”

Mercer stared at him, his fingers tightening around his glass. They both knew he did not have that luxury.

Evan let the silence stretch again, watching Mercer come to terms with the reality.

When he spoke again, his voice was smooth.

“You are drowning, Mercer. And I am the only man offering you a lifeline.”

Mercer’s jaw tightened.

Evan reached for his glass then and took a slow sip, giving the man a moment to consider his options?—

Which were none. Evan was not one to negotiate after all.

Tick. Tock. He knew it was only a matter of time before…

“Fine,” Mercer spat, throwing his napkin on the table. “Half.”

Evan smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Splendid.”

Ambrose chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as Mercer scribbled his signature onto the contract.

“You are a devil, Marwood,” Mercer muttered.

“And what does that say about you?” Evan grinned, triumphantly. “Since you’re the one making deals with me?”

“Fine, fine. I don’t want to hear it,” he huffed. “You got your deal. Now send me over the money.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Evan assured, smirking. “I always keep my promise.”

Mercer glared at him one last time before storming out of the room, his boots clacking furiously against the floor.

The moment he was gone, Ambrose let out a low whistle.

“Now that was worth seeing,” Ambrose nodded. “You are truly ruthless.”

“It is not ruthlessness. It is business,” Evan replied, unbothered.

He had heard himself being described as ruthless so many times now that it was routine to him.

Ambrose shook his head. “You could have bled him even further, you know.”

“That would have been unnecessary,” Evan shrugged. “There is no sport in beating a man who is already on his knees.”

Ambrose laughed at that. “Ah, and yet you did not extend him mercy, either.”

“Mercy has no place in business,” Evan noted. “But even so, there are lines that I do not cross.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Ambrose said after he’d studied him for a long moment. “Your wife will have her hands full with you, I suspect.”

Ah. Isadora.

“This is why I keep my personal life separate,” Evan scowled.

Just the idea of Isadora being present at one of these deals—seeing him like this—it was quite unacceptable to him.

“You say that, yes. But the Evan I know—business is his life.” Ambrose raised a brow. “So tell me then, are the two things really separate?”

Evan ignored him, standing smoothly.

“I think we should leave now,” he said, brushing past Ambrose and heading toward the door. “The deal has been finalized, and there’s no use lurking.”

“Avoiding the subject, are we?” Ambrose chuckled, following him out.

Evan threw him a dark look over his shoulder as if to say drop it.

The two men made their way out into the streets of London. It was a busy day—people of all manners and forms spilled out onto the cobbled pathways in a rush to get to wherever their destination was.

“You know, you could have struck another deal today,” Ambrose mused. “I heard that Lord William was looking for buyers for his country farm estate. And that he is quite in a hurry to sell it off. I thought you’d pounce at the opportunity.”

“I’ve already closed one deal,” Evan replied. “Besides, I doubt Mercer realizes just how profitable I can make his venture. So I am fine not cutting another one.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Evan I know,” Ambrose’s tone took a turn for the teasing.

“Then you should know this one,” Evan replied.

“No, no. I suspect that there is more to it. You have been different since your wedding, you know,” he remarked. “Dare I say, even distracted.”

Evan scoffed at that. “I am not distracted. You just saw me cut an impossible deal.”

“Yes, but that’s something I expect of you.” Ambrose arched a brow. “You just walked past a rather stunning investment opportunity without so much as a glance. That part is new.”

Truthfully, Ambrose had a point. He had known about the sale for the estate. And previously, he would have jumped at the chance to acquire it.

But now, he just saw it as extra labor. More work to do, more time away from home.

“Maybe I’ve already cut a deal with him, and you simply do not know,” Evan lied, trying to placate his friend.

“I do not believe that for a second,” Ambrose grinned. “If you had, you would not have wasted a moment gloating about it.”

Evan said nothing. It was best for everyone if they didn’t probe too deeply into the matter.

But, as usual, Ambrose had a mind of his own. They had only made it a couple more steps when he spoke again.

“How is the Duchess doing?”

Evan exhaled, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. “She is just fine.”

“Has she managed to crawl her way into that cold heart of yours?” Ambrose asked.

Evan glanced sideways at him. “You seem quite interested in my wife.”

“Only in how thoroughly she has thrown you off your game,” Ambrose smirked.

“You’re being ridiculous again,” Evan said as he instinctively stopped.

“Ridiculous?” Ambrose gestured toward a nearby storefront. “You have just stopped in front of a dress shop.”

Evan blinked, only now realizing that his feet had, in fact, come to a halt before an elegant window display.

It had caught his attention without his intention—a deep emerald, made out of what looked like the finest-quality silk.

It was a color he had never seen Isadora wear.

“Is this another business opportunity, or are you in need of a new gown?” Ambrose remarked teasingly.

“Shut up.” Evan scoffed.

“You are going to buy it for her, aren’t you?” Ambrose grinned.

Was he? Before he could think better of it, he turned and strode inside.

Ambrose chuckled, following him in.

The shopkeeper, an older woman, immediately brightened at the sight of them.

“Your Grace,” she greeted smoothly, dipping into a curtsy. “How may I assist you?”

Evan gestured toward the window. “That gown. I want it.”

“Of course. I can arrange it for you,” She blinked, “For—for your wife, I assume?”

“Unless you think it would suit me better?” Evan arched a brow.

Ambrose snickered behind him.

The shopkeeper recovered quickly, nodding. “Of course, Your Grace. I can have it delivered by tomorrow. I believe I have the Duchess’ measurements already.”

“Fine.”

Ambrose watched in amusement as Evan signed the ledger, sealing the purchase.

The moment they stepped back onto the street, he let out a low whistle.

“Well, well. A man who has never given a woman so much as a single flower has now purchased a gown for his wife.”

“It was an impulse purchase.” Evan exhaled, running a hand against his jaw. “Consider it a celebration for closing the deal.”

“Ah,” Ambrose said, grinning. “An impulse . Of course.”

Evan shot him a warning look, but Ambrose merely shook his head in mock sympathy.

“It is happening, my friend.”

“What is happening ?” Evan couldn’t help but frown.

“As an outside observer, it’s quite clear to me now, really,” Ambrose smirked. “You are falling into the marital trap.”

“Here you go again with these theories of yours.”

“You know, it is rather amusing,” he mused. “I have known you for years, and I have never seen you act without reason. You calculate everything. And yet,” he gestured toward the shop, “you did not even hesitate.”

“It is just a dress, Ambrose.” Evan rolled his shoulders, unconcernedly.

“It is not the dress that I am talking about,” Ambrose conceded. “Rather the sentiment behind it.”

“You should know already that I do not concern myself with sentimentality,” Evan reminded his friend.

“Yes, but we have been friends for a long while,” Ambrose shrugged. “It shouldn’t really be too awful to let some sentimentality slip through every now and then.”

Evan considered his words for a moment. It was true— he was one of his oldest and closest friends.

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

Evan thought back to his childhood—when he would walk these same streets alone. Back then, he neither had the company of a friend nor the money to shop at expensive places as he did now.

How time changes everything.

“And it has been a ride,” Ambrose grinned.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Evan blurted out, surprising even himself.

“For what exactly?” Ambrose narrowed his eyes at him. There wasn’t any space for sorrys and thank yous when it came to their friendship.

“You know what I mean,” Evan exhaled. “For not treating me like an outsider when I inherited the title.”

Ambrose studied him for a long moment, then said simply, “You were never an outsider to me.”

They had met years ago when Evan had still been a self-made man but not yet a titled one. Ambrose had been beaten by Evan in a card game. Quickly, that acquaintance had transformed into a business relationship. Their first business deal had been a tense affair with neither man willing to trust easily.

Through Ambrose, he had also met Nicholas, who had also come to be one of his closest friends.

In fact, both of them had been the only two men of standing who had not turned their backs when Evan’s title had come into play.

Evan had not forgotten that. He was not one to forget those who were kind to him and those who weren’t.

He gave Ambrose a small nod. “Whatever the case, it is worth acknowledging.”

“Is that a trace of sentimentality, I hear?” Ambrose grinned. “First, the dress and now, this acknowledgment. Marriage truly has changed you.”

Evan rolled his eyes. His friend was back to being the same insufferable presence he loved being.

“Do not mistake this for sentimentality,” he replied.

“Oh, but it’s so hard not to.”

They continued walking, but his thoughts drifted once more. First to the gown that he had just purchased and then to his wife.

And to the annoying realization that he was looking forward to seeing her wearing it.