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“ H e is the most peculiar man, a walking contradiction,” Evelyn said the following Tuesday as she had tea with her sister, Charlotte. “He is still determined to find me a husband, but he has become more selective. He presented one fellow just yesterday who was… almost bearable.”

“Coming from you, that is high praise,” Charlotte said with a chuckle. “Pray, what was he like—this almost bearable man?”

She shrugged. “Floyd Westcombe. A friend of the duke’s—or so he told me. Quite tolerable. I shall see him again.”

“Indeed,” Charlotte said.

“Yes. Make no mistake, I have no desire to make a match out of him. But I wish to appease Nathaniel. He has recently tried to get to know my wants and needs more and consider them when selecting a husband.”

“Oh,” Charlotte said, dipping her head thoughtfully.

“Yes, he is rather… vexing.” She sighed.

“Ever since he discovered that I was chasing off the men he selected, he has been most annoying in his attempts to decipher what I actually want. He bothers me when I am embroidering, when I’m attempting to read, when I’m trying to walk.

He asks endless questions—about my preferences, my plans, what my future ought to look like if I had my way. ” She rolled her eyes.

“Sounds as though he is rather attentive to you… and beyond what I would imagine a matchmaker to be,” Charlotte observed.

Evelyn crossed her arms. “Please. It is his way of being rid of me. He wants me out of his house. He does not fail—he never tires—of telling me so.” She leaned forward in her seat. “He had never even been to the dower house. Did you know that?”

“He hadn’t?” Charlotte asked, surprised.

“No! He didn’t even know the way. A few days ago, he walked with me as I went to visit Lady Appleton, and he swore he knew the way. But he didn’t. I led him the long route when there was a much more direct path—and he did not comment at all.”

“Maybe he didn’t notice,” Charlotte suggested.

Evelyn let out a deep puff of air. “The duke notices everything. And he never tires of telling me whenever I make a misstep. He delights in correcting every perceivable mistake. The other day, he looked over my shoulder while I was embroidering, correcting my stitches. He is utterly… perplexing.”

“Do you not think…” Charlotte began gently. “Perhaps it would be best if you left? Came home? You could continue your campaign for the dower house from there.”

Evelyn shook her head firmly. “No. Absolutely not. Besides, I think Lady Appleton may be amenable to relieving the dower house. When I called on her, we had a lovely cup of tea. She told me about her sister who lives just outside Galway, in Ireland. She said how beautiful it is, and how good the air is for her poor, wretched lungs. So, I intend to engage Dr. Lassiter.”

“Dr. Lassiter?” Charlotte asked. “The physician?”

“The professor,” Evelyn corrected. “He has been called upon by the Prince Regent himself when ill—or so I’ve been told. If I can convince him to tell Lady Appleton that the Irish air is better for her lungs, she may very well agree to leave.”

“And how do you intend to get in touch with him?”

“I’ll find a way. In any case, I am not coming home. And I will most certainly not entertain Father’s ideas—whatever they are.”

“Perhaps he simply wants to see that you are quite all right,” Charlotte suggested. “He may not have a new husband in mind for you already.”

“Charlotte, dear,” Evelyn said, tone dry, “do not be na?ve. You know him as well as I do.”

Her sister sighed and leaned back. Yes, it was true—she did.

But Evelyn also knew that Charlotte would never admit it.

She adored their father in ways Evelyn could not, would not, understand.

But then again, Charlotte and Marianne had never been subjected to his preposterous schemes or roped into assisting with them. That had always been Evelyn’s job.

The two finished their tea, and Charlotte left.

Once alone, Evelyn wandered through the empty house.

It was such a grand place—so many rooms, so many passageways.

She would have loved it as a child; it lent itself to playing hide and seek.

She smiled as she remembered playing that game with her mother.

Sometimes, her father would even join in.

How entertaining it would be to play such a game here with her children.

They could run down the halls after one another, trying to win the game. Nathaniel would?—

She stopped in her tracks.

What in the world is wrong with me? Nathaniel? Why in the world am I thinking of Nathaniel?

“No, no, no,” she muttered, snapping the side of her head. “Foolish, foolish girl.”

She had spent far too much time with him of late, so much so that he was invading her thoughts. It wasn’t bad enough that he had made himself a menace to her plans; now he had to imprint himself upon her mind. She would not have it.

Evelyn turned right and found herself in a gallery.

Paintings hung on the walls—ones she hadn’t seen before.

Judging by their appearance, they were old—several generations old.

She wandered from one to the next, trying to imagine who they all were.

Her eyes landed on something in the far-right corner: there, hanging up, were sabers.

She smiled as she pulled one down and stood the way she had been taught, waving the saber back and forth.

“On guard!” she called, and leaped forward, letting the saber whistle through the air. A rush went through her as she did, and she smiled widely.

“Bravo,” Nathaniel’s voice called.

She stopped at once, lowering the saber to her side. She turned.

“Do you always sneak up on ladies?” she asked.

“I do when they’re using my sabers to practice fencing,” he replied. “That said, you’re quite good.”

She crossed her arms behind her back, saber still in hand. “Well, I didn’t know you were going to be here. Had I known, I wouldn’t have practiced.”

“We do have a dedicated room for fencing, you know. Those sabers are rather old and valuable.”

“Valuable? They look rather rusty,” she said, shrugging, and handed it over to him.

“For something so old and rusty, it certainly works well, don’t you think?” He let the saber fly through the air, making a few practiced moves.

“You fence?”

“Of course. It is expected of someone of my standing. Even if my role as heir was rather… in flux over the years, I still learned all the things a gentleman should—hunting, fishing, fencing, shooting. The question is—how do you know how to fence? It’s not an accomplishment a lady usually possesses. ”

She pursed her lips. “My mother taught me.”

“She did?” His eyebrows rose.

“Yes. She learned it from her brother, who was quite skilled. They would sometimes spar, and I would watch. I begged her to teach me, and eventually, she did. My father did not like it. He didn’t find it suitable for a young woman. But I loved it.”

“I’d like to see how good you are,” Nathaniel said with a grin. “What do you say—you and I?”

She tilted her head to one side and placed her hand on her hip. “You would fence with a woman? Is that not beneath your standing?”

“We are in the privacy of my home. What I do behind these walls is entirely up to me—and you. But if you’re?—”

“I’m not scared of you,” she fired back. “I’m certain I could beat you.”

“Oh?” he said, amused. “I wouldn’t be so certain. I have seen you fence, and there’s certainly room for improvement. On the other hand, I’m very accomplished.”

Her blood boiled at his display of arrogance.

“Is that so? Well, in that case, I shall take you up on it. It seems you could stand to learn a lesson in humility.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. “If you think so. Tomorrow at noon. In the fencing room. Ask your maid where it is—she can tell you.”

He was about to walk away when she called after him.

“You forgot something. A wager.”

“You would place a wager on our match?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

“I would. And you shouldn’t be so worried about it, given how confident you were a moment ago.”

“I’m not worried at all. Tell me—what is your wager?”

“If I win, you will leave me alone when it comes to courting potential men. For a month.”

“A month?” he scoffed. “I think not. A fortnight.”

“Very well, a fortnight,” she agreed.

“At last, a touch of reason,” he said. “And if I win?”

She shrugged, as though not bothered at all, though she was deeply worried about what he might come up with.

“If I win,” he said, “you will accompany me to Almack’s—and there, you will dance with every single gentleman I point out. For two Wednesdays.”

“Oh,” she groaned. “The place of boring lemonade and bland, dry cake? I do not have a voucher.”

“Neither do I, but Julian can get us both vouchers for a night or two. I’m certain—his aunt is one of the lady patrons. Now, are we in agreement?”

She took a deep breath, then stepped forward and extended her hand. “We are in agreement.”

He slapped his hand into hers and curled his fingers around hers.

A jolt went through her, but she steadied herself so he would not notice.

What was wrong with her? He was annoying.

More than annoying—he was absolutely impossible.

And yet, her body was reacting as though she had some sort of secret attraction to him.

It was ridiculous. All of it.

But she knew what she would have to do.

She would beat him at yet another one of his foolish games.

And she was sure she would. That would buy her what she needed most: time to put her plans into action.