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

CHAPTER 3

“ M y help?”

Evan leaned back in his chair, studying the woman before him with idle curiosity.

Isadora Morton.

He had heard of her before in passing. Daughter of the Earl of Young and very protective of her younger sister. He knew of her friends, who happened to be married to some of his own. But never had they ever spoken to one another. And never had he expected her to be standing in the middle of his study like this.

A lady of rank standing before him at an hour no proper woman should. Her cloak was damp from the night air, her cheeks flushed, whether from the cold or sheer audacity, he did not know.

But she had caught his interest.

Evan lifted a brow and gestured lazily to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

She hesitated but only for a moment before lowering herself onto the seat, her back straight.

“I have to say your methods are quite… unconventional, Lady Isadora, but you have succeeded in getting my attention. Now, what is it that you want? Has this something to do with… what were the names… Duchess Violet and Duchess Daphne?”

Isadora shook her head immediately. “Not in the slightest, Your Grace. I have not come here on behalf of my friends.”

His brow arched slightly. “Then, what is it that you want?”

“This has to do with my sister.”

Something about the way she said it made him pause.

“Your sister.” He leaned forward slightly. “And what has your sister done that requires my involvement?”

“She is to be married.”

Evan blinked once then exhaled a soft laugh. “Congratulations.”

Isadora’s expression did not change.

“You do not look particularly overjoyed, Lady Isadora. I must assume, then, that the match is… less than ideal?”

“That is one way to put it,” she sighed, sounding defeated.

Evan could not say that he was surprised. He had heard that story before. For a society that made such a fuss about matchmaking, it was truly fascinating just how often matches turned out to be the wrong ones.

“And what, precisely, do you expect me to do about it?”

Evan was no matchmaker. If anything, he kept his distance from the whole charade. He could not understand for the life of him why she had opted to seek his help of all people.

“I need you to stop the wedding.”

It took a moment for her request to register and then a low chuckle escaped his lips.

“That is a new one. I do not think I am the right person for the job.”

“You must at least hear me out, please.” She shifted slightly in her seat. “I would not have come if it were not… necessary. The man she is set to marry—he is not a good man. He is a rake; his reputation is unlawful. I cannot let my sister ruin her life by marrying him.”

He let the word hang between them for a moment then sighed dramatically. “Well, Lady Isadora, I must confess—this is quite the predicament.”

“Are you mocking me? I have come out here to seek your help.” Her voice rose in irritation.

“Not at all,” he said though the amused glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. “It is simply that I fail to see how I could be of service. If your sister is determined to marry this man, there is very little I can do. After all, if she is choosing him over you, I fear you must accept that the better woman has won.”

“I wish that were the case.” Isadora shook her head.

“So, the villain in question is not a man of her choosing?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “No. My sister is betrothed to a rake—one only my father deems worthy.”

Evan exhaled a mock sigh of relief. “Well, that is entirely different then. For a moment, I feared I was being asked to interfere in a grand love affair.”

“There is no love in this arrangement,” she clarified immediately. “And there never shall be. He is a scoundrel.”

Evan smirked. “We are off to a promising start.”

“He is a known rake.”

“As were half the men at Almack’s last week,” Evan shrugged.

“He is known to gamble away his fortunes and has accrued considerable debts!”

“Who among us does not enjoy a bit of sport?”

With each passing retort, her patience seemed to grow thinner. The Duke was having fun pushing her like this.

If for nothing other than payback for requesting his presence at such an odd hour.

“He has no sense of propriety, Your Grace. You do not understand; he is a bad man. And he is much older than her.”

“Some prefer that. They believe that with age comes a certain kind of wisdom.”

“I cannot believe that you are not yet seeing the error in his ways.” Her tone tinged with frustration. “He has ruined reputations and left women in scandal.”

Evan leaned forward slightly. “Then, Lady Isadora, I must ask—are you concerned for your sister’s welfare… or simply disappointed that he has not yet turned his sights on you?”

Isadora shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor. He had finally pushed her to the limit. Evan was surprised it took that long—usually people snapped a lot quicker when he tested them like this.

“I have made a grave mistake in coming here. This is a colossal waste of my time,” she fumed.

“Now, now. I am merely offering you a counter argument. You need not get so worked up over it.”

She turned toward the door, her breath tight in her chest. “Worked up over it? Forgive me, Your Grace, if I am not too interested in debate when my sister’s fate hangs in the balance. You are clearly more interested in jesting than actually helping.”

Evan exhaled then stood. She was no fun. “No need to be dramatic, Lady Isadora. You seem to take everything to heart. “

She spun to face him, her eyes blazing. “You mock me and then chide me for having a reaction.”

“Oh, no. You are much mistaken.” His lips curled into a smirk. “I do not mock, ever. I only observe.”

She exhaled through her nose, turning back toward the door and reaching out to turn the handle. Evan watched her carefully.

But just before she could leave, he spoke again.

“Tell me, Lady Isadora… just how far are you willing to go to stop this wedding?”

She froze and turned back to him, slowly.

“I care about my sister more than anyone else in this world. I need your cooperation at any price.”

Ah. There was a sincerity in her voice.

“Careful.”

“Careful of what?” There was a slight edge to her voice—one born out of true desperation though she did not let it show in her expression.

“Of offering anything without considering the cost.” He pursed his lips. It was not every day that a situation like this presented itself to him.

“I know exactly what I am saying,” she said firmly.

“Do you?”

“I do,” she insisted. “If it takes bargaining, if it takes persuasion, if it takes—” She hesitated just a second too long..

“If it takes what, Lady Isadora?” Evan smirked.

“It does not matter. I will do whatever I must.” She exhaled, shaking her head.

“ Whatever you must,” Evan hummed.

“Yes,” she said, her voice stronger now. “I will not stand aside while my father condemns my sister to a life she does not want.”

“You are quite passionate about this,” he said, but that much was obvious. What else would compel a lady of her standing to visit him at an ungodly hour like this? He realized that he had already made a decision, and now, he was just… playing with her.

She was fun to play with.

“I am. And you are capable of stopping it,” she repeated.

“And why should I stop it?” he asked her.

“Because you can. Because you have influence, power—things I do not have.”

“True,” he shrugged. That was the answer he had expected.

“And because you are not a cruel man,” she added quickly, watching him closely. Now that caught him off guard.

It was not usual for him to be recognized for his generosity of all things.

“Who told you that?”

“I… assumed,” she stammered.

“I see.” His expression gave nothing away. “You assume I am not cruel simply because I have not been cruel to you.”

“I do not think you are without cruelty, but I do not think you are heartless either,” she swallowed.

Clever girl.

She was playing to his empathy now. Though—it was a surprise that she had assumed he had any.

“Help me,” she pressed, stepping closer now. “You have the ability to put an end to this marriage to him.”

“Yes, but,” he interrupted, “that does not mean I intervene in matters that do not concern me.”

“You have nothing to lose, Your Grace. And if you do this… if you help me…” She exhaled, gathering herself. “Then I owe you.”

His eyes flickered at that.

Ah.

I owe you.

They were words he had heard many times before in many situations when he had pulled people out of trouble. But somehow, they had never sounded so sweet as they did now.

“Very well,” he murmured.

“You will help?”

“I never said that,” he teased even though he had already made his decision long before.

Frustration flared across her features. “Then what?—?”

“I said,” he interrupted, stepping forward until there was only a breath of space between them, “that you have my interest.”

She swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he murmured, “that I enjoy seeing how far you are willing to go.”

“Then tell me what it takes.” She refused to back down. Even now. Stopping this wedding really meant something to her.

“Well, Lady Isadora, that makes things simple,” he mused, retreating now. “If I am to stop a wedding, I need only something useful against the groom. One cannot destroy a man’s prospects without the proper leverage.”

“Leverage?” Isadora frowned. “That should not be difficult. He is a rake after all.”

“Yes, so you’ve mentioned more than a few times now.”

“But beyond that, I do not know much.”

At that, a slow smirk spread across Evan’s lips. He made a quiet sound of amusement. “What is his name?”

“The Marquess of Hartenshire,” she announced bitterly.

“Oh.”

“You know him?” Isadora’s eyes narrowed.

Evan let out a short chuckle. He knew him all too well.

“Well then,” he murmured, stepping around the desk, coming toward her now. “That clears things up beautifully.”

“What do you mean? Can you state things clearly?”

Now where was the fun in that?

“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.

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.