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E velyn stepped out of her chambers and instantly tumbled over a bucket of discarded paint.

“Perdition!” she cursed, hopping on one foot and leaning against the wall to steady herself.

“Now, now, I do hope you will not employ such language when our guest arrives,” Nathaniel said.

She looked up and saw him leaning against the wall again, which appeared to be his preferred pose these days.

He smirked at her, and she wondered if he had put this bucket there just to vex her.

She understood very well that the sudden burst of renovations that had sprung up everywhere around the manor were his idea to get her to leave.

But she would not leave, any more than she would entertain any of these suitors with any sincerity.

She pulled her shoulders back. “You can rest assured that I will be perfectly behaved when our guest arrives. Now, what is his name again? Pembroke? Hensley?”

“Pendleton. The Viscount of Pendleton,” he corrected and pushed away from the wall as he proffered his arm. “Allow me to go downstairs. You should find him most enticing. He is thirty-five years old.”

“And yet far older than I like,” she said.

Ignoring her, he continued, “He is, from what I am told, handsome—not that I would be able to judge another man’s handsomeness. He has a decent fortune and is comfortably settled with a home in Tottenham and a cottage in Brighton.”

She nodded. If she were looking for a husband, these qualities might be enticing. But knowing Nathaniel, and having already met two of his supposedly suitable contenders, she had to be wary.

“And does he also enjoy sermons?”

“I believe it is fishing he likes,” Nathaniel said.

“In any case, your fortune will be safe in his hands. Also, he is dull. So dull that he will be no threat to anyone, least of all you. If you and he engage in a courtship, I am certain you’ll be well settled, and you'll be able to do everything you wish to do at his side. He will not con?—”

Another bore… Evelyn did not say it out loud. She already suspected that Nathaniel might be onto her scheme and thus had to pretend to be pleased with this.

“Well, I suppose, as long as he does not quote sermons at me and require me to extract every answer from him by force the way Lord Stafford did, I shall give him a?—”

“That is all I ask,” he said.

He escorted her down the stairs while footmen carried up what appeared to be Chinese hanging paper.

She took a deep breath. “Pray, how much longer are these renovations going to?—”

“Oh,” he said, waving his free hand. “Months, I expect. Years, perhaps. This is quite a large estate that my uncle has done little to upkeep. If I am going to make this my main residence, it must reflect my taste. Do you not think?”

“Indeed,” she said. In fact, she had already visited the Dower House twice under the pretense of visiting Lady Appleton to see how she was.

In reality, she had sized it up for her own use in the future.

She knew exactly where she intended to put all the furnishings she planned to bring in, for what was there now was old-fashioned.

Not that she was going to tell Nathaniel that.

They had arrived at the bottom of the steps just as a carriage pulled up in the drive.

“He is right on time,” Nathaniel said. “I like a gentleman who can keep appointments in a timely manner. Don’t you?”

She glared up at him, but then reminded herself that she had to reflect a picture of poise.

“Indeed,” she said.

Bennett opened the front door and allowed Lord Pendleton entry.

He was tall—almost absurdly so—towering over her by a head and a half.

His hair was short and graying at the temples, while his eyes were wide and blue.

His chin was oddly small compared to the rest of his face, and his nose had a slight upward slope.

He wasn’t conventionally handsome, she thought, but there was a particular alertness to him.

“Pendleton!” Nathaniel said enthusiastically and shook his hand. “May I introduce you to Evelyn, Duchess of Sinclair?” The man bowed deeply.

“A distinct pleasure indeed to meet you, Your Grace,” he said. And immediately she knew that, while he wasn’t unpleasant to look at, there was a good reason Nathaniel had described him as too dull to be a threat.

His voice grated on her—he lisped a little. The way he enunciated his words was so sleepy, so tiresome, so dull. She thought she might fall asleep at once. It was almost as if his voice was laudanum.

She sucked in air, annoyed at herself for thinking so ill of men she did not even know.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t kind… But the anger inside her sometimes overtook her, leading to having such unkind thoughts.

Still, these men were preying on a widow.

Though at the instruction of a certain Mr. Sinclair, as she had trained herself to think of Nathaniel as.

“It is such a lovely day,” Nathaniel said. “Would you care to take a walk with Her Grace? In the gardens? I dare say you would not even need to bring a chaperone. We can see you from here.”

She narrowed her eyes. This was unusual.

He had chaperoned the meeting with Lord Stafford himself and then sent a maid to accompany her with Sir Franklin.

She had expected the maid would be sent again this time.

She had already ensured that the maid—a young woman named Clarissa—revealed none of the things Evelyn did or said to her suitors.

She had been handsomely paid off, and through their brief conversations, Evelyn had understood that Clarissa did not think it was proper for her to be forced into a marriage so soon after her husband’s death, either.

So she was inclined to help. But for some reason, her help was not required this day.

Shaking it off, Evelyn put on her brightest smile.

“Indeed, it is a lovely day. Shall we, Lord Pendleton?”

“And trout—one can never go wrong with a trout,” Lord Pendleton said as they strolled along the pond near the house.

“Prepared just right, with just a little butter and vegetables—perhaps a potato—there is nothing better. I eat it at least every week. More if I catch them myself. There is something so satisfying about catching one’s meal.

I am most envious of those who can sustain themselves in such a manner, providing for themselves.

Without the need to go to the market and purchase items. To live off their?—”

Evelyn looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I suppose nothing is stopping you from living off the land. I take it your lands are large?”

“Oh, they are,” he said. “But unfortunately, while I can fish, I do not know how to raise a single vegetable from the ground up. I must leave that to those who are so skilled.”

“One could always learn,” Evelyn said.

She liked little less than the men of privilege who spoke about those beneath them in a romanticized manner.

Men like Pendleton had no idea what it was like to be poor, to be reliant upon what one could grow or fish.

Not that Evelyn knew either. But she had always made a point to speak to the tenant farmers at their estate in Brixton.

Her mother had always encouraged her to do such things, to ensure she understood the needs of those who lived on their lands.

She also knew that after a particularly bad harvest, when many of the tenants had suffered, her mother had insisted that her father assist them financially, using her own funds, of course.

Pendleton, however, appeared entirely oblivious to her dismissive tone, continuing to talk about nothing but fish and the best ways to prepare them. If that was going to be her future, she might as well jump into the pond immediately, turn into a fish herself, and swim away.

“Pray, Lord Pendleton,” she said. “Are you a keen re?—”

“Reader?” he said and spun around. “Indeed! I adore nothing more than to read.”

This was promising. “Say, have you read any books by the author who signs her books as ‘By a Lady’? ”

His bushy eyebrows rose. “ ‘By a Lady’ ? Certainly not. I do not read novels by female authors. Preposterous! Where are we as a society going to be if women spend their time writing tales rather than tending to their families?”

“And preparing fish,” Evelyn added.

“Precisely,” he said.

Evelyn wanted to roll her eyes but reminded herself that she was a duchess now, and duchesses did not roll their eyes, cross their arms, tap their feet, or otherwise act petulantly.

However, there was something she could do about this. She was not going to waste an entire afternoon entertaining this bird-witted man.

She had to get rid of him. But how?

They walked a few more minutes while he continued to ramble on about things that did not interest her when it came to her.

“Say, I saw a large fish in this very pond just yesterday. It was at least this big—” she indicated with her hands, about two feet.

“Indeed?” he said. “What a spec?—”

“Yes,” she said. “Over there. I have seen it twice—yesterday, swimming by the little?—”

“Fishing pier!” he said with delight. “I wish I had brought my fishing rod and tackle. Let us go and see!”

“Indeed,” she said. “Let us.”

They made their way toward the pier, and she strode forward, her eyes peeled to the boards beneath her.

She had indeed been on this pier several times, and that was how she knew that at the very, very edge, the wood was worn and gave way.

She had almost fallen in herself the first time because the algae had made the area slippery as well as bendy.

Now she strode toward that spot with confidence.

“It was here,” she said, but stopped shy of the very edge. Instead, she gestured forward. “Oh, I see it!” she said, and pointed.

“You do?” he exclaimed, walking past her to the edge.

She heard the floorboards creaking but quickly spoke up, “Yes, up yonder—over yonder. You may not see it very well because of the lily pad, but it is right there. You see?” she said excitedly, pointing.

He bent over slightly, which is what she had hoped he would do, and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m afraid I cannot?—”

She placed her hand on the small of his back—aware how inappropriate it was—but then slightly pushed him to the right. “You see, if you will just turn a little, you will see it if?—”

“I think I see it!” he said.

She was momentarily confused. As far as she was aware, there was nothing in the water but lily pads and frogs.

However, he leaned forward, evidently assuming that she was going to hold him back if he should fall.

Instead, she pushed—ever so slightly. Just enough to make him take another step forward.

He turned to her, a bright smile on his lips. “I think it is a rainbow trout,” he said.

“Indeed,” she said, and then moved just enough so that she bumped into him to give him the last bit of push he had needed.

“Oh!” he called, as his arms flailed.

“Lord Pendleton!” she said. “Do be careful! The end is very slippery!” she added, knowing it was far too late for such a warning.

He lost his footing and fell forward, arms and legs in the air. He flailed for a moment as the top hat he had been wearing flew into the air.

Then he splashed down like an ungraceful toad, connecting with his stomach first. Water sprayed into the air, and lily pads flew from their prior positions, bouncing across the water as the man flailed about.

“Goodness!” she said and clasped her hands in front of her mouth. “What a disaster,” she said. If he looked up, she would look horribly concerned—but in reality, she was suppressing a laugh. Then, recovering herself, she turned and rushed down the pier.

“Help! Help!” she called. “Lord Pendleton fell into the pond!”

Already, someone was running down the path from the main house toward them. But to her surprise, it wasn’t a footman. It was Nathaniel.

“What has happened?” he called. “I saw him fall from the porch. What did you?—”

“Me?” she exclaimed, her voice a little too high. “Why would you think I did anything? He fell. I told him about a wonderful fish I thought he would be interested in, and he fell. It is not my fault that he is un?—”

He looked at her, eyes narrowed, but then dashed past her to the pier where Lord Pendleton had managed to grasp onto the edges. His arms and upper body were already out, but he struggled to get free.

“Pendleton!” Nathaniel shouted as he ran, his footsteps booming over the wood. For a moment, Evelyn silently wished that perhaps he too might fall in—for that would have indeed been a successful day. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down, grasped the older man under the arms, and heaved him out.

Pendleton stood there, water dripping out of every pore.

He shook his head like a dog after a bath, water spraying everywhere. She remained on the edge of the pier, leaving the men to do whatever they were going to do next. Laughter sat at the base of her throat, desperately wanting to come out, but she controlled herself.

“You!” Pendleton said and pointed at her. “You pushed me!”

“I did no such thing,” she said. “I attempted to hold on to you so you would not?—”

“Nonsense!” he said. “You pushed me.”

She made her way toward him now, head held high and shoulders back.

“I am a duchess. I would not stoop so low as to push my visitors into the water, especially not those whom I am entertaining as potential?—”

He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. Beside him, Nathaniel looked as though he had seen a ghost. Water had speckled his powder-blue shirt and waistcoat, making them look darker in spots.

“I assure you, Lord Pendleton,” she said, “I only wanted you to see the glorious rainbow trout.” She repeated.

“Well, that is nice that you know they are in the pond,” Nathaniel said, before turning to Lord Pendleton. “Why don’t you come to the house? Let me get you towels and some dry clothing.”

Pendleton shook his head. “I would rather walk back to my estate dripping wet than step into your house with that woman.”

“Lord Pendleton!” Nathaniel said.

Then he pulled his dripping-wet waistcoat down further, stood straight, and marched down the pier, his shoes squeaking and water flying up in the air with every stride.

Evelyn closed her eyes and pressed her hand in front of her mouth again, willing herself not to laugh. When she opened her eyes again, he had made it some distance away, and she looked at Nathaniel.

“All right,” he said. “What did you do? Did you push him?”

“I would do no such thing. I already have a reputation as a bride who did not survive even twenty-four hours with her husband. I most certainly do not want to be known as the woman who has killed two potential suitors. However, Nathaniel, I dare say, you ought to read these gentlemen better. This one barely even survived the walk.”

She clicked her tongue and then left him standing where he was as she made her way back to the house, where she finally gave in to her urge to laugh.