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E velyn jumped out of the carriage and rushed up the steps to what used to be her home. She knocked, and Hanover opened almost at once.

“Your Grace,” he said with a bright smile.

Evelyn flinched. It was one thing to make Nathaniel call her by her proper title—something he refused to do half the time—but quite another to hear those who had known her since she crawled refer to her that way.

“Hanover. I hope you are well,” she said. “Is my sister or my aunt in?”

“In the drawing room, Your Grace,” he replied.

She hurried into the drawing room immediately and found her aunt Eugenia by the fire, rubbing her hands in front of the crackling flames. Even when the sun was blazing outside, her aunt was always cold—and even more so in winter.

Marianne was reading, while Charlotte was working on some water coloring. The moment Evelyn stepped into the room, her sisters looked up and paused their activity, while her aunt got up and embraced her, kissing her on one cheek and then the other.

“Your father has written,” she said instantly.

Evelyn felt herself stiffen. “He has? And what does he say?”

“He sent his condolences for the death of your husband and said that he will attempt to return as soon as possible to console you.”

More likely to see whom he can marry me off to next , she thought, but didn’t say it.

Aunt Eugenia loved her father because he was her little brother, just as she loved Charlotte and Marianne.

Evelyn had always imagined that, no matter what they did, their aunt would help them.

Indeed, there was nothing she would not do for her sisters.

“Well, I hope he does not cut his business opportunity short on my behalf,” she said wryly before sitting in a seat next to her sisters. Marianne joined her on one side, and Charlotte on the other.

“How was it?” Marianne asked.

Evelyn chuckled. “Sir Franklin arrived all jovial and jolly. He brought me flowers—daffodils, of all things. I think he picked them himself on the way.”

“How romantic,” Marianne said.

Evelyn suppressed a groan. “Romantic? I think not. Not if he seeks to impress a duchess. They weren’t even roses. Daffodils?”

“Roses are rather much, do you not think?” Charlotte said.

In her heart, Evelyn knew it was sweet of him to pick flowers.

Indeed, if she had been in the mood for a courtship, she would have liked it.

But as it stood, she could not allow herself to show any weakness in her resolve.

Otherwise, her sisters and aunt might think she could be convinced to do what Nathaniel wanted after all. No. She had to keep up appearances.

“It’s not just what he brought. It’s what he was.

Just as Nathaniel described him—brittle as an old bone, with no sense of humor or any redeeming quality to speak of.

I do not understand why Nathaniel thinks I would like him.

Lord Stafford was just as bad. However, both of them were easily put off. ”

“Lord Stafford? You did not say much about him,” her sister said.

“Well, Lord Stafford, whom I met yesterday, was no trouble at all. He was very uncomfortable being there in the first place. So when the duke left us alone for a few minutes, I simply burst into tears and said I was not ready to remarry. That I still considered myself a true wife and did not think I was ready to move on so quickly. That was all that was needed.”

“You are terrible,” Marianne said. “The poor man probably felt dreadful, thinking he had upset a young widow.”

“He should not have come to court a young widow in the first place, then. I am teaching him manners for the future. It will be a long time before he attempts to encroach upon a widow’s heart again. If anything, I am doing a favor to all womankind.”

Marianne shook her head, but Charlotte chuckled. “And Sir Franklin?”

“Oh,” Evelyn said, crossing her legs at the ankles as she leaned back.

“The scandal sheets have been immensely helpful. There is so much to be found about a gentleman’s preferences and dislikes.

The Duke inadvertently gave me a few pointers as well, which I used in exactly the opposite way from what he intended.

He told me that Sir Franklin was interested in theology and sermons, and so I made sure—absolutely sure—that he understood I have no religious beliefs.

I let him know that I do not believe in the existence of—” she grimaced and pointed upward.

“Goodness gracious!” Aunt Eugenia exclaimed. “That is blasphemy.”

“The good Lord will forgive me,” Evelyn said.

“Of course I believe. Of course, I have faith. You know that very well. But Sir Franklin does not need to know that. The good Lord provided me with weaponry to use against this unwanted marriage I am being pushed into yet again, and I shall not offend Him by refusing to use it. In any case, Sir Franklin appeared determined to ensure that I was saved by reciting several scriptures to me. I was entirely uninterested, and then somehow the wine he was drinking spilled all over the table—and upon his pantaloons. I think he took it as a sign and departed swiftly.”

“I take it you had something to do with the wine spilling?” Aunt Eugenia said.

Evelyn smirked. “I did. Frankly, I should have done all of this when Father first attempted to make me marry the late Duke. It would’ve saved me a lot of heartache.”

She sat back and shook her head. Why hadn’t she stood up for herself more?

Why was it so much easier to contradict Nathaniel than it had been her father?

It should have been simple to stand up to him, after all those years of watching him waste their fortune—and her aunt’s fortune.

And yet, she hadn’t been able to do it. She had gone willingly, like a cow to the slaughter, as he had taken her to meet her future husband.

She had smiled. She’d been polite. She had said all the right things.

Why hadn’t she done then what she had done now with Sir Franklin and Lord Stafford?

She sighed. She knew why.

She loved her father, after all. And she loved her sisters. His words still rang in her mind. He would have forced them into a match, even then. Why hadn’t she stood up to that? She could have told her sisters how to defend themselves against their father.

Her nostrils flared, and she shook her head.

No. She knew why she hadn’t done it.

She had no leverage.

Now she did.

She had what had been left to her by the agreement with her late husband, and she knew Nathaniel was in an awkward position.

She was well aware that he did not want her at the house.

That much was clear just from the way he did his very best to make her uncomfortable.

His attempt to disrupt her reading the other day had been only the first step.

Since then, disorganized attempts at renovation had sprung up around the manor.

It seemed that every area she favored—the library, the downstairs drawing room, the sunroom in the back, even the solarium—was suddenly undergoing renovation.

She had quickly figured out that this was all by design, having tested it.

She sat down in the drawing room, only to find footmen appearing to cover up the furniture with white sheets.

Upon inquiry, she had been told that the Chinese wallpaper was to be taken down and replaced.

She had retired to the solarium, only to find maids showing up to clean the windows.

No, he wanted her out of the house.

But that was her hold over him. He could not throw her out—it would look dreadful. And she wasn’t going to let him push her out, either.

That was her strength.

Her position was quite different this time. She had leverage. She—the Dowager Duchess of Sinclair—had power.

Lady Evelyn Langley had had none.

And she would be damned if she gave up any of it.