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“ Y ou did what?” Julian said later that afternoon, as the two had sat down to a glass of brandy and liqueur at the White Gentlemen’s Club in London.

It was quite convenient that the estate was in Brixton, which wasn’t too far from town.

Indeed, he had a mind to stay in a hotel of some sort to avoid being in the same room as the body that was still lying in the parlor, as well as the willful woman who refused to leave the house.

“You heard me,” he sighed. “She made a compelling case against her being thrown out of the house. Can you imagine the scandal sheets if she went and sold a story about how I truly ejected her from the home of her late husband on the day of his passing? It would look?—”

“I thought you did not care about such things,” Julian said.

Nathaniel grunted. It was true. He did not generally put much thought into what the scandal sheets had to say, especially not the English ones. Still, something in the way Evelyn stated her case had given him pause.

He had heard of Lowey and his gambling. Even if he had not, he had encountered that type of gentleman many times over the course of his twenty-eight years on this earth.

Men who used their daughters to get themselves out of sticky situations they had gotten themselves into through recklessness.

In fact, it explained some of the peculiarities of this marriage.

He had assumed that she was the sort who looked to climb the social ladder, elevate herself from an earl’s daughter to a duchess, but she hadn’t appeared pleased with the title.

She had wielded it formidably, but it hadn’t struck him as something she had wanted.

He looked around the room. He knew English society—and the Scottish one—liked nothing more than a scandal. And she must have suffered immensely as the object of such tales.

“I did not want an endless argument, and then to be in the scandal sheets for having evicted her when I haven’t even taken my seat in the House of Lords yet,” he said.

“Also, I would not sleep well if I knew that I had sent her back home only for Lord Lowey to marry her off to some other ancient man.”

“And she agreed?” he said, taking a sip from his cognac.

“Yes. She put up a fight, but then she caved in. I think she saw the point. It is in both our interests that she makes a good match. For me, it is to get her out of my house before the scandal sheets have a chance to dip their quills into the inkpot, and for her, it will be advantageous to have a choice in whom she marries.”

Julian wet his lips and sat back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Well, but there is one problem. You do not know how many eligible?—”

Nathaniel grinned. “That is where you come in. You’ve spent far more time in London than I have. You know everyone. Help me make a list.”

Julian grumbled. “A list? Am I a matchmaker now?”

“You have been seeking a profession other than being heir to your father’s dukedom,” Nathaniel jested.

Julian rolled his eyes. “Very well. Come, do you carry a pencil with you?”

“I do. I have already started a list.”

“Very well, let me see,” Julian said and took the page.

“Lord Barstowe is already engaged,” he said, crossing the name off the list. “Hazeltine is rumored to be romancing a governess in his uncle’s home.

” He crossed that person off, too. Then he looked back.

“Well, that leaves two you are choosing: Lord Pendleton and Sir Franklin. Not bad choices. You ought to start with them.” But here he scribbled and wrote five more names on the list before returning it to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel scanned the list. He was vaguely familiar with the first four, but the fifth made him sit up straight, shoulders pulled back.

“Not Halston.”

“Why not? He is titled. He is young. He is charming. The ladies tell me he is very handsome, and he is excellent at fencing. I should know. I partner with him.”

“No,” Nathaniel repeated. “Not Halston.”

“As you wish,” Julian said and crossed the name off with a flourish. “Well, what are you going to do in the meantime?”

Nathaniel rubbed his neck. “What do you mean by ‘ in the meantime?’ I aim to begin this immediately.” His voice rose so high that several pairs of eyes turned in their direction.

“You are aware of how long mourning is for a husband?”

“That is what she said,” he said, and waved a hand.

“But it hardly matters. The marriage was not even consummated. If I wanted to, I could likely have the whole thing annulled.” It had occurred to him to do that, but he decided that seemed mean.

His mother would never stop pestering him about it if he set out to harm this young woman.

His mother had always been soft-hearted in that way.

“Look,” Nathaniel said. “Nobody is going to expect a twenty-year-old young woman to wait for an entire year to mourn a husband she did not want to be married to and who didn’t even make it to the end of the wedding breakfast. I shall explain this to all the gentlemen.

I shall invite them to my new home. They shall have tea with her and go for walks.

Then, in a few weeks, they can attend balls together.

And then dinners. We will integrate her into the marriage mart slowly—and thus, quickly. ”

“And you really think it will be that easy?”

Nathaniel paused. Evelyn was a puzzling woman.

She was beautiful—there was no denying it.

When she didn’t scowl, frown, or glare, she was a picture of youthful beauty.

Of course, the few times he had met her, she had engaged in all three of these, which took away somewhat from her beauty.

In addition, she had the personality of a scrub brush, and though she had shown the ability to compose herself, he knew that poise didn’t come naturally to her. He chuckled.

“What is funny?” Julian asked.

“I just thought it would’ve been rather amusing to see my uncle attempt to contend with Evelyn as his bride.”

“She had the luckiest escape, I shall say that.”

“That she did. And I will ensure that this time around, she ends up with somebody who can value her. Maybe somebody who can soften her brisk edges. Put her mind at ease. Pray, can you find out what Lowey’s present location is and what he is doing?

I should not want him to interfere. There was a woman at my home.

Older, with a walking stick. I assume she is a relative of the Langley girls. Can you?—”

“Lady Eugenia Harcourt. Wife of Sir Frederick Harcourt. Quite respectable. She is their aunt. They are from Bournemouth, but she has stayed in London at their home for a while. I think it is to look after the family while the father is wherever he is.”

“I see.” He leaned back and swirled his drink around the glass as he glanced at the names again.

He would see Lord Franklin that evening.

He knew he was a keen card player, and if he in any way resisted Nathaniel’s suggestion to court Evelyn, he knew how he could persuade him.

Nathaniel had always had a lucky hand at cards.

He would trick him if he had to. Indeed, he feared that he might have to take quite a few of these gentlemen to agree to court the duchess, not just because of her manner and wrestling personality, but also because the mourning could pose a challenge.

He liked to attempt to dismiss it, but the reality was the reality.

Some gentlemen might be less than willing to court somebody who had not even yet buried her husband.

On second thought, he realized, perhaps it was best to leave the venture until after the funeral. But as soon as the old dragon was under the ground, he was going to see to his widow and make sure she got out of his house, posthaste.

“Marriage?” Charlotte said when Evelyn had finished telling them the latest ridiculous turn her life had taken. “He wants you to marry?”

“Yesterday, if possible,” Evelyn said, and nodded. “He was quite determined.”

“But how?” Marianne asked. “You cannot get remarried. If you wish to marry now, you would have to get an annulment.”

“There will be no annulment,” Evelyn said and got up. “If I got an annulment, I would have to revert to being a single woman of marriageable age. And I do not want that. And you should not want that for me. It is horrid. No, I shall remain a widow. But what I shall not do is?—”

Her sisters looked at each other and then at her as though she had spoken in some foreign tongue. They did not understand.

“But I thought you said you had to marry if you wish to?—”

Evelyn grinned. “Indeed. That is the term he set. I must court to find a husband. During that process, I am allowed to stay at Sinclair Estate. But he did not set a timetable. You see, I shall do as he pleases. I shall court everybody he presents before me, but I shall make sure that not one of them wishes to marry me.”

“But how?” Charlotte asked.

“And why?” Marianne added.

“Because that is my way to freedom.”

“But do you not want to marry?” Marianne asked. She had always been the most na?ve among them all, so it didn’t surprise Evelyn that she saw some sort of romance in all of this. “You might find a wonderful gentleman who is kind and loving and will let you have all the freedom you so desire.”

Evelyn scoffed. “All I want is my freedom. I hope and pray that you one day find a gentleman such as you have just described—for yourself, and for you too, Charlotte—but as for me, no. It is not what I want. Ever since Mother died, I have done everything Father demanded of me. I have represented this family. I have behaved myself. I have done what he wished. I have married the most unfortunate man, and I shall not let it happen again. Now, do you still have your collection of scandal sheets?”

“Of course I do,” Charlotte replied. It had long been her preferred hobby to read and collect the scandal sheets. She had stacks of them in her chamber. Evelyn had never quite understood her sister’s fascination with them, but now they would come in handy.

“May I borrow them?” Evelyn asked, as if asking to steal the crown jewel.

“Yes,” Charlotte said.

“You shall have them all back once my quest is over. I shall need the scandal sheets from the last two years.”

“I haven’t got two years’ worth of scandal sheets,” Charlotte said, indignant.

“Of course you do,” Marianne said with a light laugh. “We all know that you keep them sorted by year. You have sheets at least from five years ago.”

Charlotte grew red. “And what if I do? It is good to be able to reference the past. Besides, sometimes a rumor starts, and it’s not picked up again until months later, so I must be able to refer back.”

Evelyn bit her lip at the ridiculousness of it all. “Well, for once, I have to agree,” she said, a ring in her words. “I do need to refer back to the past. I must find out everything I can about the gentleman Nathaniel wishes to set me up with—old rumors, things they like and dislike.”

Marianne’s forehead creased. “But I thought you just said you do not wish to marry. So why would you want to know their preferences?”

“Silly you,” Evelyn said, “so that I can be the very opposite of what it is they’re seeking.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I must say, this venture might be far more amusing than I first gave it credit for.”