Page 27

E velyn stood in the second-floor chamber that was meant to be hers when she first became Duchess.

It hadn’t even been a year. It hadn’t even been six months.

No—how long had it been? Four months? Goodness gracious.

She was becoming a duchess twice in four months.

Surely it had to be some sort of record.

She looked at her sister. “One of you should have placed a wager that your sister would become a duchess twice over in less than a year. All of Father’s financial worries would be gone. Oh, no—I might even make it through the wedding breakfast this time without becoming widowed.”

“Do not be so bitter,” Charlotte said. “You’re marrying a young, handsome duke. One who isn’t so tethered to society’s wants and needs. One who will let you have your freedom. And Father? He is utterly Friday-faced because the Duke has made it clear that there will be no secondary dowry.”

Nathaniel had told her this morning. Evelyn knew this—he had told her as much the day he informed her he had obtained a special license so they could get married quickly and in the privacy of their estate.

Her father was not going to receive another dowry or anything else.

Technically, he had already received one dowry from the Duke of Sinclair. He did not deserve another.

This had cheered Evelyn somewhat. At least her father would not benefit from this disaster.

In fact, he wasn’t going to attend this wedding either.

It was becoming somewhat of a tradition.

She would marry a Duke of Sinclair, and her father would ignore the event until it was suitable for him to reach out his hand to demand some money.

Although, of course, he would not get anything from Nathaniel. That much she knew for certain.

“Oh, and Marianne said you care for him. You admitted as much. You could be really happy if you allowed it.”

“He doesn’t want me. He made that clear. He didn’t think me good enough for Halston, and he certainly didn’t think me good enough for himself until he was put in a position where he could not deny it.”

“What were you doing in his study?” Charlotte asked. “Charmaine said that you were locked in a steamy embrace, lips locked upon one another, not a stitch between you.”

She rounded on her sister. “You better not listen to such vile gossip. We were doing nothing. We were doing nothing wrong whatsoever. We were talking. Arguing, as we always are. That is all.” She looked away because she knew that her sister would be able to tell the lie in her eyes.

They hadn’t just argued. No, in fact, she’d been almost certain that they were about to kiss.

But then hadn’t they been about to kiss several times, always to be interrupted or for one of them to walk away?

This peculiar habit of theirs was bound to catch up with them sooner or later. And now it had—in spectacular fashion.

“Have you brought all of your things back from the house?” Eugenia asked.

“I hardly took anything to begin with,” she said. “But yes. All my things are here in the east wing. It will be mine from now on. Nathaniel is going to stay in the west wing, where he always has been.”

“It’s not uncommon,” Eugenia said.

“No, perhaps not,” she said. “But he has told me that the entire wing shall be mine, including the drawing room, implying that he would like the downstairs drawing room for his own use.”

“Did he say that?” Eugenia asked.

“No, but it was implied.”

“You simply must stop reading things into what he says.” She turned to Evelyn’s sisters. “Girls, leave us for a moment.” The two left, Marianne grumbling and Charlotte humming under her breath, ever the optimist that all would still turn out as it should.

“Evelyn,” her aunt said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Evelyn sat on the edge of the chaise, not wanting to wrinkle her wedding gown—the second one in four months.

“He asked me to come to the study to talk. What about, I did not know. When I was there, I was riled. About how he implied that Lord Halston only wanted me because of his prior rivalry with Nathaniel. About other things.” She shrugged.

“Things took a peculiar turn, and I thought perhaps…” She looked down at her shoes, knocking her toes together.

“I thought he might kiss me, but then Charmaine came and ruined everything, and now…”

“So you did almost kiss,” Eugenia said, and sat beside her. “So, you do care for one another—I thought that you did. So why is this marriage such a terrible thing?”

“Because afterwards he admitted he was only doing it because it was the right thing to do. To save my reputation. He thinks of himself as some knight from an old tale, rescuing the damsel in distress.”

“I daresay you are still in distress. If he hadn’t married you, you would’ve been ruined.”

“Yes, but I want him to want to marry me, not because he has to. And he made it quite clear that this is all for practicalities. It means nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound as though it means nothing. Don’t you think that perhaps all might still be?—”

“No,” she said. “It will not be well. I will not deny that I cared for him before, but he has made it clear time and again that he does not care for me the same way. He all but pushed me into the arms of others. He didn’t want any of this.

He didn’t want to be a duke. He didn’t want to be married to a duchess.

And he most certainly doesn’t want to produce heirs with me. We are trapped. Trapped in misery.”

Her aunt patted her hand. “Well, if you say so, dear. But at the very least, you have one thing you always wanted. Your freedom.”

Freedom. Yes, it was true that she had it.

Nathaniel had made it very clear that she would have her own household budget.

Access to all the money from her jointure, as well as whatever else she needed.

She didn’t have to rely on him. And that, for a woman of her station, was quite remarkable.

She knew other duchesses who had to ask their husbands for a little spending money for a new gown or some ribbons.

She would have access to her own money—something that nobody could touch but Nathaniel.

And he wouldn’t. He made that clear as well.

She had everything she wanted. Everything, she realized—except the chance of ever finding true happiness.

The ceremony was quick. Conducted at the small chapel on the grounds of their estate, with only their immediate family and close friends in attendance. The wedding breakfast was also small and intimate. Lady Charmaine had not been invited. Her sister, Lady Annabelle, had.

It was Lady Annabelle with whom Evelyn sought refuge later that day. While Nathaniel sat with Julian and Eugenia, discussing this new arrangement, and her two sisters had gone off to visit the stables, Evelyn walked arm-in-arm with Annabelle.

“I do not know how I can beg your forgiveness. My sister is a horrible gossip. Always has been.”

“I know. I remember from the seminary—she always had everybody else’s news to share. But I cannot believe she would be so vindictive.”

Annabelle wet her lips. “I have a secret I must tell you. Her secret. And I know that you have every reason to hate her and you might want to tell everyone about it, but promise me that you won’t.”

She looked at her, pressing her lips together. “What is it?”

“Promise.”

“Very well. I shall promise. I will not stoop so low as to be on the same level as her. Now, what is it?”

“Charmaine had designs on Nathaniel.”

“What?” she said and turned to her friend. “I did not even know she knew him.”

“They met once before in Scotland. I daresay Nathaniel likely will not even remember it. It was at a dance hosted by his mother.” She paused. “Why are his parents not here? Nathaniel’s mother and stepfather?”

“There was no time. They wrote and said that they would come to visit in due course, but this time it was too short notice. But enough of that. You were talking about Charmaine?”

“She says he flirted with her most outrageously, and she thought him the most handsome gentleman she had ever met. But evidently, he was not interested in her and left with another lady.”

“Oh,” Evelyn said, not quite certain what to make of this. She had never thought about his past before—what sort of man he had been before she met him.

“Did she mean to tell me that he was a rake?”

“It seems that way,” Annabelle confirmed. “But you cannot believe everything she says. Look at what she has done to you. It is almost ironic,” she said. “She wanted him, and when she couldn’t get him, she thought to warn him—only for him to marry you. Sometimes her actions make no sense.”

“Sometimes when you are driven by anger, you do not think. But I wish she had—because she has made me utterly miserable. And now she seeks to sully his reputation.”

“I do not know what she seeks to do. In any case, she cannot do anything else. You are already married. She certainly will not be the Duchess of Sinclair—not that there was ever any real danger of that. However, I thought it might be worth mentioning that it seems to me that Nathaniel has changed. If he truly was a rake, he is not anymore. And I must imagine that it has something to do with you.”

“With me? How?”

Annabelle shrugged. “Well, think of it this way. He is a young duke, just arrived at this part of the world, and instead of being out every single day meeting ladies left, right, he hasn’t been out much at all.

He certainly hasn’t established a rakish reputation in town.

Perhaps he cares what people think. Or rather—what one certain person thinks. ”

“Do not encourage me,” Evelyn said. “He did not want to marry me any more than I wanted to marry him. This marriage will be a miserable one, and we both know it.”

“Do not be quite so dejected. All may yet be well.” Annabelle looped her arm underneath Evelyn’s, and the two walked on together.

Evelyn had a reasonable hope that her friend was right, but her heart told her that she was quite wrong.

That whatever chance there had been between her and Nathaniel had faded away and may never be recovered.

In addition, the idea that he was a rake troubled her.

He had never struck her as such. Ladies like Lady Charmaine threw themselves at every possible man.

Of course, that was true. But that didn’t make him a rake. Even if he was—did it matter?

Why was she even thinking about this? It made no difference to their circumstances.

Forcing herself to think of something else, she focused on her friend.

But even as they talked about frivolous things—such as new hats and shoes and what was on dit—Nathaniel remained on her mind.

Like a nagging ache that refused to go away, no matter how much laudanum one took.