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“ Y ou look rather lovely,” Nathaniel said when he spotted Evelyn standing in the drawing-room door.

She was clad in a light lavender gown, which skirted dangerously close to the line of what was appropriate for a widow to be wearing.

Not that they had observed any of the other mourning customs, but she had been demure in her attire, wearing navy and dark lavender.

Today, however, she wore a lighter color, which suited her and brought out the pale complexion of her skin and her sparkling eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. “I am waiting for my suitor.”

He stepped back, straight. “Suitor? I did not think we had arranged anything until the ball.”

“You had not arranged anything,” she corrected. “But since you have been presenting me with a never-ending parade of dullards and barons, I took matters into my own hands and found a suitor. He is coming now to take me on a walk around the estate.”

He blinked. This was new, and he could not say he particularly liked it.

He knew that she had been out of sorts because of her father, but that she would take it upon herself to find a suitor rattled him more than he wanted to admit.

Who was this man? Was he worthy of her? And why did such an intense jealousy nag at him?

“And who is this gentleman?” he asked, doing his best to appear casual.

“I do not think you would know him. I met him at the ball you took me to some weeks ago, and ran into him by chance at Hyde Park two days ago. He is tolerably interesting, has a fortune of his own—he will not need mine—and he’s reasonably handsome.”

“Reasonably handsome?” Nathaniel’s stomach clenched. “What does that mean? And you still have not told me his name.”

“Lawrence,” she said.

“Lawrence. That was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he a monarch, since he doesn’t seem to require a last name? Or is he a pope?”

She chuckled. “I dare say there’s never been a Pope Lawrence before. But no, if you must know, he’s the Earl of Halston.”

It was like a punch directly into his gut, and he had to stop to keep from toppling backward. Halston.

“I thought he was on the continent,” he managed to say. Her eyes widened.

“Oh, so you do know him. I didn’t know where he was—he never mentioned it.”

“I did not think that I was required to give you a list of all of my acquaintances, but since you were asking, yes, I know him. We were in school together.”

“Oh well, then you should be delighted,” she said and smiled. “I shall meet him outside. Unless you wish to come and greet him?”

There were a great many things Nathaniel wanted to wish Halston—smallpox, a case of smallpox, financial ruin, a harlot for a wife, and several broken bones—but he did not have a desire to wish him a good day.

“I must tend to matters,” he said, “but enjoy your walk.”

“I dare say I shall. And I will ensure he does not slip into the pond this time,” she said and made her way outside. Sarah hurried after her, having emerged from the shadows as servants had a habit of doing.

He stood and watched the door close. He shouldn’t follow her. He should go upstairs to his study. And yet he couldn’t quite stop his feet from walking forward to the window. There he stood, looking out to see a carriage arriving. The door opened, and his old nemesis appeared.

He was tall and clad in a dark suit over a yellow waistcoat, along with a top hat with a matching yellow ribbon.

He bowed deeply, and she curtsied, even though she was a duchess and outranked him, although she seemed to have momentarily forgotten that.

Then he kissed her hand. Nathaniel’s nails dug into the palm of his hand so much that he felt the skin tear.

Halston. Of all people… Why did it have to be Halston?

But then again, could he blame her? He hadn’t come forward to offer his hand in marriage, even though he wanted to, hadn’t he?

He knew that’s what she wanted. And he wanted it, too.

The only trouble was that he couldn’t be quite certain whether she wanted him to propose out of love or simply because he was a convenient choice.

It was that uncertainty that held him back. He had time, he had thought, to make up his mind. To find out her true motivations. To find out if she genuinely cared for him. Except it seemed the time was running out.

“You fool,” he chided himself, and marched back to his study. The door slammed shut behind him. Then he stopped before the portrait of his uncle, which still hung above the mantle, glaring down at him, judging him as he always had.

“You never thought I was good enough, did you?” he asked his uncle. “I was never as good as a natural-born son. Do you know what you’ve done to me, old man? You made me doubt my worth.”

He realized he was still digging his nails into his skin and released them. Looking down at his palms, he saw trickles of blood and quickly grabbed a handkerchief. Then he dropped into his seat.

He knew he should focus on his work, but the more he stared at the ledgers, the less the words made sense.

Numbers blurred together, and his mind refused to comprehend anything he was reading.

He couldn’t help but think about what was happening outside.

Were they still walking? Had Halston managed to make her laugh?

Did she really like him? The idea of Halston marrying Evelyn made him feel sick.

He shook his head. He shouldn’t worry about this.

It didn’t concern him. She didn’t concern him.

The only connection they had was through his uncle.

And truthfully, it would be better for him if she left his estate.

She was in the process of moving into the dower house now, which should help with the scandal, but he knew in the long run it wouldn’t work.

There would still be whispers. No, she had to get married.

He had to get her out of his hair. Did it have to be Halston? Of all people?

“Well, I was hoping I might see His Grace,” Halston said as they walked along the lake.

“He was busy,” she said. “Although he told me that the two of you went to school together.”

“We did,” he said and chuckled. “Although you wouldn’t recognize the boy I used to know at Eton. He was rather a scrawny little thing. Timid. Always in his books. Must’ve been difficult for him.”

“Being in his books?” she asked, not sure what he meant.

“No, being a spare.”

She frowned. Noticing her expression, he cleared his throat.

“Back then, your late husband had a living son. Henry, I believe his name was—a sickly boy. Didn’t even live into adulthood, I don’t think.

Anyhow, when I first met Nathaniel, he was the heir—carried himself like the heir, too.

He would receive packages from his uncle quite often—books about running an estate and such, fine clothing.

But then his uncle had a son, the aforementioned Henry.

And suddenly Nathaniel wasn’t quite as high and mighty. ” He chuckled.

Evelyn did not have a difficult time imagining Nathaniel as being high and mighty, yet something about the way Halston spoke of him did not sit right with her.

“So I take it you weren’t friends?”

“You could say that. I tried, once he was knocked down a few pegs and wasn’t quite as high and mighty.

I really did try, but the arrogance was just replaced with misery, and he was rather boring to be around.

So I gave up. It is what it is, I suppose.

Fate has shined brightly upon him in the end. And upon you.”

“Upon me?” she said.

“Yes. You managed to become a duchess, and you kept your virtue. I’d call that a win.”

“I suppose you could look at it like that,” she said, though she hadn’t felt fortunate. “I rather would not have married an old man at all, however.”

“I can imagine it must’ve been dreadful, kissing that old dragon,” he said.

She shuddered, her stomach rolling at the memory. “Let us not talk of such things,” she said.

“Very well. We shall not. Let me just say that a young lady such as yourself deserves much better. Anyhow, is that the pond Pendleton fell into?”

She looked up and smiled, relieved that the topic had been changed.

“It is. We were at the end of that pier, and I was pointing out a rather lovely rainbow trout when he leaned forward and fell.”

“Through no assistance of your own, of course?” he said slyly.

“Of course,” she said. “May I see the scene of the crime?” he asked.

“Well, there was no crime committed, but if you would like to see it, yes,” she said. They walked out onto the pier.

Halfway there, he turned to her. “Promise me if I should lose my footing somehow, you will pull me back. I shouldn’t like to be the entire ton’s laughingstock.”

“I promise,” she said, smiling.

But this wasn’t what she had dreamed of in a husband.

His wit carried a particular malice with it, and while he was handsome, she had never quite liked blond-haired gentlemen.

His face was pleasant enough to look at, though ordinary.

And while he was tall and broad in the shoulders, there was nothing outstanding about his physique.

And even though she could converse with him, and he even had managed to make her smile, there was something not quite right. Something was missing. She wasn’t quite sure what. Still, he would do.

Goodness gracious, how far my expectations of a husband have fallen.

She shook her head, making sure he didn’t see.

Her father—how much she despised him. He had written her two lengthy letters, lamenting her decision to stay with Nathaniel when she should’ve been staying with him.

In the same letters, he had spoken badly about Nathaniel, calling him out for sheltering her and enabling her foolishness, as her father called it.

What protection had Nathaniel provided? She somehow doubted it.

It was quite unusual for a duke to do for her what he had done.

She had to stop thinking about him. Whatever was between them didn’t mean enough to him to want to marry her.

Therefore, she had to look out for herself.

She had to make sure she had a husband she could tolerate.

A future worth living. She had to leave Nathaniel behind.

He wasn’t going to give voice to whatever it was that lay between them.

And she couldn’t, because if things went badly between her and Halston, or worse, between her and her father, she would need Nathaniel.

If she declared how she felt about him and he did not feel the same, it would be humiliating.

She would have to go home then. No, she had to put it all aside.

The future was Halston, or someone like him.

They had reached the edge of the pier.

He shielded his eyes with one hand from the sun. “Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked.

“Yes, Pendleton’s hat. Story has it that it is still floating around somewhere in your pond.”

“I should think not,” she said.

“Very well,” he replied. “Well, I do thank you for bringing me here. I shall be able to vividly retell him the story next time I see him.”

“Is that not unkind, to remind him of his misfortune?”

“Do you not think it was unkind to push him in?” He laughed as he spoke.

“I didn’t,” she said.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” he said. “Now, I’m rather peckish. Do you suppose we could have a spot of tea and perhaps some biscuits?”

“I think that can be arranged,” she said.

“Very well.” He proffered his arm, and she took it. As they walked, he placed his hand over hers on his arm, locking her in. “Just so you don’t end up tumbling in,” he said with a laugh.

She smiled, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from his hand on her arm. Not as dreadful as when her late husband would touch her, but it was still wrong. Inadvertently, her memory turned to the times when Nathaniel had touched her. That had been warm. Right. Nothing like this.

Taking a deep breath, she once again pushed those memories away. She had to focus on the future now.