Page 18 of His Graceful Duchess (A Lady’s Vow #3)

CHAPTER 18

“ H ave you seen Isadora anywhere?” Evan found himself sitting alone at the dinner table, inquiring after his wife.

The last he had seen of her was when they arrived together at the venue. After that, she had made a swift getaway and was nowhere to be found.

Daphne pursed her lips from the other side of the table. “Yes, well she was just with the two of us. And then Violet took her to meet the baby.”

The baby. Interesting. The image of his wife holding a small child across her chest crossed his mind, and to his surprise, he did not wish to immediately dismiss it.

“I got back downstairs a long time ago,” Violet remarked. “But Isadora said that she needed some air. I suspect she might still be on the balcony.”

“Was she not feeling well?” Evan demanded immediately, suddenly feeling a surge of overprotective energy.

Violet exchanged a look with Daphne, and it irked Evan that he could not immediately figure out what it meant.

“No, she was fine. Perhaps she was just tired?” Violet said, but her response was anything but helpful.

“If Isadora was tired, then she should have come to me,” Evan said through gritted teeth. He would have made sure that some solution could be devised. They could have gone home immediately, and she could have rested.

Unless…

There was something else up with her. He did not wish to ponder over what that might be.

Violet and Daphne exchanged another one of those maddening, knowing glances, and before Evan could demand an explanation, a soft voice interrupted them.

“I see my name is being passed around rather freely tonight.”

Evan turned, relief washing over him as Isadora approached the dinner table. She looked unharmed, thank God.

“You would be correct to assume that,” Daphne grinned, waving her forward. “We were just talking about you.”

“Were you?” Isadora’s tone was dry as she approached, her gaze flickering to Evan before settling back on their friends.

“Indeed,” Ambrose chimed in, smirking. “Your husband appeared to be quite concerned about you.”

Evan shot him a glare, but the damage was already done.

Isadora’s brows lifted, her lips parting slightly in surprise before she quickly masked it with amusement. “I was not gone for too long, Your Grace. I only needed some air.”

“Good that you returned when you did,” Ambrose continued. “Your husband nearly had a search party assembled.”

Evan shot him a glare. Now is not the time.

“I did not know that my presence was so sorely missed,” Isadora observed, a blush creeping on her cheeks.

Daphne smiled. “Well, it is not surprising she needed a moment. She has been the most sought-after person in the room all evening.”

“Hardly,” Isadora scoffed.

Violet smirked. “I don’t know—everyone seems to be vying for your attention. Your husband included.”

“I do not vie for anything.” Evan arched a brow.

“No, you simply demand,” Ambrose chuckled.

Evan ignored him.

“I think it is only because people do not yet know what to make of me.” Isadora sighed, shaking her head.

“Not at all,” Daphne countered. “They have already made up their minds. They adore you.”

“They ought to,” Evan added, surprising himself. He was never one for such public adorations, and yet when it came to her, he could not help himself.

Isadora turned to him, surprised. “ Ought to ?”

“I think it’s quite remarkable what you’ve accomplished in such a short time.” He turned to their friends. “She’s done more for my household in a few short weeks than I ever have.”

“Oh, that is hardly true,” Isadora blushed.

“There is no need to be so humble,” he said simply. “I have run an efficient estate for years, but Isadora seems to be better at it than I have ever been. You would not believe how quickly she has taken charge of my household. The staff practically bow when she enters the room.”

“He’s exaggerating now,” Isadora murmured, but she was smiling.

“Not in the least,” Evan said easily. “Just the other day, I overheard the housekeeper lecturing a footman on the correct way to set a tray—apparently, they had been disgracing the silverware before you corrected them.”

A chuckle rippled through the table.

“Well, is there something wrong with that?” Isadora exhaled in mock exasperation. “It is hardly witchcraft to expect a properly arranged tray.”

“No, of course not.” Evan tapped his fingers against the table, enjoying himself now. “And yet, you have accomplished something I never could—striking actual fear into their hearts.”

“I merely encouraged efficiency, Your Grace. It is what any respectable duchess should do,” she replied. “And besides, I have learnt it from you.”

“And a respectable duchess you are,” Violet chimed in from across the table, raising her glass in a toast.

Ambrose smirked. “Yes, Evan, do tell us. How does it feel to have married a woman who actually knows how to run an estate?”

“I consider myself quite lucky,” he admitted after a moment. Isadora had not stopped smiling, even for a second. Evan felt something warm settle in his chest at the sight of it.

But then?—

“I must say, Your Grace,” a smooth voice interjected from Isadora’s other side. “You’ve made quite an impression on society. I have heard nothing but praise for your poise and grace.”

Evan turned his head just in time to see the speaker—Lord Bellington, or perhaps Harringford—he hadn’t bothered committing the man’s name to memory—offering Isadora a charming smile.

Immediately, his own amusement vanished.

Isadora turned slightly to acknowledge the man. “That is kind of you to say.”

“It is only the truth,” the man continued, leaning just slightly toward her. “Most women in your position would struggle. But from what I can gauge from the conversation, you seem to belong in it as though you were born into the title.”

Evan’s grip on his fork tightened. Excuse me? That insipid, smear of a man was trying to flirt with his wife. The words themselves were perfectly polite, but Evan knew better. He knew how men operated.

And Evan was not going to stand for it.

So, before Isadora could say another word, Evan leaned in slightly—just enough that his presence was impossible to ignore.

“I must say, Lord… Bellington is it?” Evan asked deliberately, as though ensuring he hadn’t accidentally forgotten the man’s name—though not because it was particularly worth remembering. “You are correct in your observation.”

The man turned to him, brows lifting. “Oh?”

“My wife has adapted exceptionally well.” He made sure to emphasize the word. He turned his gaze to Isadora then, letting the heat in his expression speak for itself. “She has always been remarkable.”

A small gasp left her lips, barely audible but he heard it. Good. He wanted to be the only person to get a reaction from her.

“Indeed, Your Grace. You are a fortunate man.” Lord Bellington gave a short chuckle, clearly unaware of—or deliberately ignoring—the sudden shift in the conversation.

Evan wanted to bash his head against the table, but he composed himself.

Instead, he took a different strategy entirely.

Lord Bellington—or whoever the hell he was—had enjoyed too much of Isadora’s attention. Even if it was only for a few moments. He shifted slightly in his seat, turning toward his wife with the ease of a man who fully expected to be heard.

“Isadora,” he murmured smoothly, “would you care for some wine?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—” She glanced at her glass, “I?—”

“Of course, you would,” Evan decided for her, already signaling to a footman. He wasn’t actually concerned about whether she needed wine—only that she was looking at him again. Isadora gave him a bemused look but said nothing.

Bellington, however, took that moment to clear his throat. “Your Grace, well?—”

But Evan was not going to allow him the space to speak again. He cut him off.

“I was just telling Ambrose earlier,” Evan went on as if the pother man was not even present at the table, “that I could not have chosen a better duchess.”

He didn’t need to glance at Bellington to know he was now an afterthought. Isadora’s lips parted slightly.

“He was indeed telling me that,” Ambrose grinned. “And I have to say, I had my doubts before, but it’s clear to me now that this is a good match.”

Nicholas, who had been quiet for the entirety of the conversation, finally spoke. “I, for one, am glad to see Evan embracing married life. Who would have thought that the Duke of Giltburg had such a sentimental streak?”

“Well, it’s not as sentimental as it is logical,” Evan clarified. “Our match makes logical sense. And I am sure that everyone on this table would agree.”

What he really wished to convey was that she was his and his only , and no one else should even try to look in her direction.

“Logical, yes,” Ambrose drawled. “That must explain why you’ve spent the past ten minutes ensuring your wife is looking only at you.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “As she should.”

“It’s endearing, actually,” Ambrose laughed.

Isadora cleared her throat, reaching for her glass. “This conversation is absurd.”

She was annoyed at him again. Perfect.

“No, this conversation is proof that you are, indeed, the most noteworthy person here,” Evan continued. Isadora’s breathing shifted slightly, and he didn’t miss the way she faltered before taking a sip of her wine.

Ambrose leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with amusement. “I see what you’re doing here,” Ambrose whispered, so that only the Duke could hear. “And I have to say, well played. ”

Evan only smiled because he had already won. Lord Bellington sat, ignored. And Isadora—well, she only had eyes for him.

When the dinner was finally over and the guests began to rise, Evan stood immediately, stepping beside Isadora before anyone else could. His hand settled at her waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the silk of her gown. He felt her breath hitch ever so slightly.

Good.

She straightened her posture, but Evan did not move away. Isadora shot him a look from the corner of her eye. “You are forgetting your manners.”

“Am I?” Evan smirked, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed her temple.

“You do not need to hover like this. We are in public.” Isadora let out a deep breath.

“I am not hovering,” he said smoothly. “I am merely ensuring my wife does not get lost in the crowd.”

“We are indoors,” she deadpanned.

“You have already disappeared on me once tonight.” His fingers flexed lightly at her waist. “You wouldn’t want me to worry again, would you?”

“You are very confusing, do you know that?” Isadora blinked at him.

“Am I?” Evan challenged. He liked it when she was annoyed with him like this. It meant that he was the only one on her mind.

“Yes,” she muttered. “One moment, I think you hardly notice my presence, and the next, you are—” she gestured vaguely, as if she couldn’t find the words.

“Hovering?” he offered, amused.

“Ensuring I do not get lost as you put it.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well, I did notice you were gone,” he said lightly, his grip on her waist tightening slightly. “And perhaps Lord Bellington did too.”

“Lord Bellington?” Isadora’s eyes widened slightly, her gaze snapping up to his. “Is that what this is about?”

“No, he is far too unimportant,” Evan snarled as he said his name.

“Right. So, it is entirely random, then?” She studied him, as if piecing together a puzzle. “That you’ve been glued to my side ever since dinner ended.”

“I call it attentiveness,” he shrugged.

“ Confusing would be a better word,” she sighed.

“Oh?” Evan murmured, leaning in slightly. “Well, I could help you understand. But somehow, I get the feeling that the appeal lies in letting some things go unsaid.”

She turned her head to face him fully, her lips parting as if she was about to speak—but then she hesitated, as if she had lost an internal argument with herself. He watched her for a moment, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

Thought so.

He was not the only one who enjoyed this little game they played.

“We should return to our hosts,” he murmured after a moment.

“Very well,” Isadora conceded. “As if you’ve left me with a choice.”

Isadora barely had time to collect herself before she was cornered by her two friends, who ushered her off to a private corner of the room.

“What—?”

“Oh, stop. We have a lot to talk about.” Violet’s face brightened up with glee.

“He’s quite possessive, isn’t he?” Daphne remarked, mirroring the same enthusiasm. “I would have never been able to guess.”

“Neither me,” Violet nodded. “You never told us about this side of him.”

“There is no side,” Isadora muttered, reaching for a glass of wine from a passing footman. She took a careful sip, ignoring her friends.

“ Woman! Are you truly delusional? Did you see the way he spoke about you tonight?” Violet continued. “You make him sound ever so unromantic when you talk about him.”

“That is because he is,” Isadora scoffed. She did not know what had gotten into him tonight, but she knew enough that she should not read into it too deeply.

This was exactly what Evan did. He was confusing. Making sense was not a natural thing for him.

“Oh, I am not sure if I agree with you after what I have witnessed tonight,” Daphne insisted. “He was so possessive over you. He wanted everyone to know you were his wife and how proud he was of you.”

“But that can be interpreted in a different way,” Isadora said, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck. “He is practical. Logical. Not one for foolish sentiment. His comments were only made for that reason.”

“Bragging,” Daphne added. “He was bragging about you. Can’t you see it?”

Isadora’s fingers tightened slightly around her glass, and her cheeks burned. “That was not bragging.”

“Oh, my dear, it most certainly was,” Daphne teased. “I don’t think he’s ever spoken so much at a dinner before. And certainly, never about anyone else.”

“You keep saying these things, Isadora, but your face tells a different story,” Violet smirked.

“I am only flushed because of this insufferable conversation,” Isadora muttered.

“Or perhaps because your husband was singing your praises all night and couldn’t stand to let another man have your attention?” Daphne grinned.

“That is not what happened,” Isadora said quickly.

“Oh?” Violet tilted her head. “Then why did Lord Bellington suddenly become invisible the moment Evan decided to join your conversation?”

“Coincidence,” Isadora said immediately.

“You truly think that?” Daphne asked, unimpressed.

“I—” Isadora hesitated because, no, she did not. But she also refused to read into whatever Evan had been doing. “Evan is merely… protective of his things.”

“His things? ” Violet’s brows shot up. “So, you are one of his things now?”

“You know what I mean,” Isadora groaned.

“Oh, we do. You just said it in a very unfortunate way,” Daphne said, barely containing her amusement.

“I believe ‘possessive’ was the word Daphne used earlier. And it is far more fitting, don’t you think?” Violet asked.

“It does not matter,” Isadora said, trying to shut the conversation down.

“It does matter,” Daphne insisted. “Because for someone who is so logical, and so practical, he was acting rather irrationally tonight, don’t you think?”

“You say he is not sentimental, but that man did not stop watching you. Every time you so much as turned your head, his eyes were already on you,” Violet pointed out.

“He was merely—” Isadora started.

“Ensuring your safety? Ensuring you didn’t get lost indoors?” Daphne smirked.

“That is exactly what he said,” Isadora muttered.

“Oh, my dear, he was not worried about you getting lost,” Violet said, shaking her head.

“No,” Daphne agreed. “He was worried about someone else finding you.”

Isadora stiffened, her fingers tightening around her glass. The thought of Evan being possessive towards her made her stomach twist. And yet all the signs pointed towards that exact thing.

“Well, he does not need to worry about that,” she muttered under her breath.

“Does he always act like this at public gatherings?” Daphne asked, not letting her curiosity ease.

“Well…”

Truthfully, he did not. Evan had never cared much for socializing at events. He would participate when necessary but always with an air of detachment. However, he had been fully engaged tonight.

“I think he is not as indifferent as you think he is,” Violet said slowly when Isadora declined to answer.

Isadora let out an exasperated sigh. “Both of you need something better to do. You are inventing theories for your own amusement.”

Daphne smirked. “Are we? Or are you just trying very, very hard to ignore what is right in front of you?”

“I do not need to ignore anything because there is nothing to notice,” Isadora said stubbornly.

Violet smiled knowingly. “Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

“But when you finally realize we were right, you owe us.”

“Owe you what, exactly?” Isadora narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps admitting that you were wrong?” Daphne shrugged, feigning innocence.

“I shall do no such thing,” Isadora scoffed. Owing someone a favor was exactly how she had wound up in this marriage to begin with.

“Oh, you will,” Violet said smoothly. “And we will be here waiting for it.”

“Take your time. We are very patient,” Daphne grinned.