Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

“ O h, would you look at that! My Lady, I believe there is a coachman across the road wearing a bright red… tunic! Oh my, I have never seen quite a sight!”

As the carriage trundled down the winding country road, it jostled its two passengers as it approached the grand Dunmore Estate.

Seated inside, Evelina smoothed her pale blue satin gown and adjusted her bonnet, determined to maintain a composed and dignified facade despite her inner trepidation.

Beside her, the Countess of Claymont chattered away excitedly about everything and anything, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. At fifty-two, Clara Jones cut a striking figure in her elaborate emerald silk gown and overwhelming towering feathered headdress.

The eccentric aunt of the Duke of Dunmore was renowned among the London Society for her flamboyant attire and penchant for meddling in others’ affairs.

“Now, my dear, there is no need for such nervousness,” Clara said, patting Evelina’s gloved hand. “My nephew may seem a bit stern, but I assure you he is quite reasonable once you get to know him.”

Evelina forced a polite smile. “I appreciate your reassurances, Lady Claymont. I only hope His Grace will find me a suitable tutor for his daughter.”

In truth, Evelina’s anxiety stemmed not only from meeting the notoriously reclusive Duke but also from the desperate nature of her current circumstances.

At five-and-twenty, she was fast approaching spinsterhood, her chances of making an advantageous match dwindling with each passing Season. More pressingly, her father’s gambling debts threatened to leave her sisters destitute if she could not secure more income.

This position as tutor to the Duke’s young daughter was her best hope of providing for her family while maintaining some semblance of respectability. Evelina was determined not to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

As the carriage rolled to a stop before the grand manor house, Evelina took a deep, steadying breath.

You can do this , for Margaret and the girls.

A liveried footman assisted them out of the carriage, and Evelina followed Lady Claymont up the sweeping marble steps to the entrance. The massive oak doors swung open, revealing an austere butler who regarded them impassively.

“Lady Claymont and Miss Balfour to see His Grace,” Clara announced grandly.

The butler bowed stiffly. “If you would be so kind as to wait in the blue parlor. I shall inform His Grace of your arrival.”

He led them to an elegantly appointed sitting room decorated in shades of cerulean and cream. Evelina perched nervously on the edge of a brocade settee while Clara bustled about, examining the various ornaments and artworks adorning the walls.

“Hmm, I see Gabriel has redecorated since my last visit,” she mused. “Though he could do with some livelier colors. Perhaps some yellow curtains to brighten the place up a bit.”

Before Evelina could respond, the door opened, and a tall, imposing figure entered the room.

She held her breath, her eyes widening as she watched him walk in.

The Duke of Dunmore cut a striking figure, with his broad shoulders, chiseled jawline, and piercing green eyes. Though only five-and-thirty, there was a hardness to his features that spoke of a man who had known his share of trials.

His eyes assessed the scene before him until they landed on her. It felt as though he was looking through her, inspecting her down to her very bones.

Evelina nearly broke eye contact, if not for the sake of manners. Something about the situation made her feel… odd. Her feet were rooted to the carpeted floor, yet she felt like bolting out the door.

Stifling the odd feelings, she rose and bobbed a perfect curtsy. “Your Grace,” she murmured demurely.

“Gabriel, my dear nephew!” Clara exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him. “How wonderful to see you again. You really must visit more often, you know. You’ve grown even more handsome since last I saw you.”

The Duke endured his aunt’s effusive greeting with stoic forbearance. “Aunt Clara,” he said, his deep voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”

“Why, I’ve brought you the perfect tutor for little Eliza, of course!” Clara gestured dramatically towards Evelina. “May I present Miss Evelina Balfour. She comes highly recommended, I assure you.”

The Duke’s sharp gaze raked over Evelina assessingly. She once again fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny, keeping her posture erect and her expression neutral.

“Miss Balfour,” he said at last, inclining his head slightly. “I understand you seek the position of tutor for my daughter.”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Evelina replied, striving to keep her voice steady. “I would be most honored to undertake the education and moral guidance of Eliza.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “And what, pray tell, are your qualifications for such an undertaking?”

The way he looked at her was almost electrifying.

Evelina squared her shoulders. “I have extensive experience in instructing young ladies in all the proper feminine accomplishments—music, art, dancing, and needlework. Additionally, I am well-versed in history, literature, mathematics, and the natural sciences.”

The Duke’s expression remained impassive. “I see. And your education?”

“I was fortunate to receive a comprehensive education from some of the finest tutors in London, Your Grace. I have also continued my studies independently, particularly in the areas of philosophy and classical languages.”

He nodded slowly. “Impressive. However, I find myself curious as to why a lady with such accomplishments has not secured a match. Surely a woman of your… maturity would have had ample opportunity to enter into matrimony by now.”

Evelina felt her cheeks grow warm at the subtle barb. “I have chosen to focus my energy on intellectual pursuits and the care of my younger sisters, Your Grace,” she replied, a hint of steel entering her voice. “I do not consider marriage to be the sole measure of a woman’s worth or success.”

The Duke’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “Indeed? How very modern of you, Miss Balfour. I wonder, do your unconventional views extend to other areas as well? I should not like my daughter’s head to be filled with improper notions.”

Evelina bit back a sharp retort, reminding herself of all that was at stake. “I assure you, Your Grace, that I hold the utmost respect for tradition and propriety. The young lady’s education would be conducted in full accordance with your expectations.”

The Countess’s short laugh interrupted the tense moment, “Of course, dear. I mean, look at you. Just from your looks alone, we can tell you are quite the proper lady.”

Evelina was grateful for the woman’s words, yet she could not look away from the Duke’s alluring eyes to offer a smile.

“Hmm.” The man’s piercing remained fixed on her face. “And what of your family background? I believe I recall,” he turned to Clara with a nearly wicked glint in his eyes, “my aunt mentioning some rather… unsavory rumors about your father’s predilection for games of chance.”

Evelina heard the Countess gulp beside her. “Did I ever?” Her laughter betrayed her guilt despite how low it was. “I do not believe I recall…”

Evelina was least concerned about the woman at the moment, however. She watched as the Duke’s eyes flicked over to his aunt, a portrait-perfect smirk spreading across his perfect features.

Then his eyes flicked back to her, his eyebrows slightly raised as he studied her expression, his smirk almost taunting her.

Her hands clenched in the folds of her skirt, mortification and indignation warring within her. How dare the man cast such aspersions on her character based on idle gossip!

“I fail to see how my father’s personal affairs have any bearing on my qualifications as a tutor,” she said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. “I can assure you that I comport myself with the utmost propriety and discretion at all times.”

The Duke’s lips quirked up in what might have been amusement. “Come now, Miss Balfour. Surely you must acknowledge that one’s family connections can have a significant impact on one’s reputation and standing in society. I would be remiss in my duties as a father if I did not thoroughly investigate the background of any individual who might influence my daughter.”

Evelina’s composure finally crumbled. “And I would be remiss in my duties as an educator if I did not point out the logical fallacies in your reasoning, Your Grace,” she retorted.

Her tone was sharper than a knife as she continued, “to judge an individual’s character and capabilities based solely on the actions of their relations is both narrow-minded and short-sighted. I had thought that a man of your status and education would be above such petty prejudices.”

A charged silence fell over the room.

Clara gasped slightly, her eyes wide with shock at Evelina’s audacity. The Duke himself appeared momentarily taken aback, his customary mask of indifference slipping to reveal a flash of surprise—and perhaps a hint of admiration?

Good! This is what he deserves for belittling me, and I refuse to be ashamed of my words!

After a long moment, his lips curled into a sardonic smile. “My, my. It seems you have quite a spirited temper hidden beneath that prim exterior, Miss Balfour. I wonder what other surprises you might be concealing.”

Evelina lifted her chin defiantly. “I conceal nothing, Your Grace. Unlike some, I have no need for pretense or dissemblance.”

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “A bold claim, indeed. Tell me, Miss Balfour, how do you propose to instill proper decorum and respect for authority in my daughter when you yourself seem to lack such qualities?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Evelina replied, her anger rising, “but I fail to see how defending one’s character against unfounded accusations equates to a lack of decorum. Perhaps if you were less concerned with perpetuating baseless rumors and more interested in judging my actual skills, we might make some progress in this interview.”

A chilling silence echoed in the room. Evelina glimpsed the surprise that flashed behind the man’s eyes once again. For a moment, he seemed awed, sizing her up with an unreadable expression, sending tingles through her body.

Then, at last, his eyes returned to hers, and the fire in her eyes seemed to irk him.

The Duke’s jaw tightened. “You tread on dangerous grounds, Miss Balfour. I would advise you to mind your tone.”

“And I would assume you could be kind enough to mind your assumptions, Your Grace,” Evelina shot back with a fake smile, no longer caring about the consequences. “If you are as concerned for your daughter’s education as you say, your only interest would be my actual abilities. Pardon me, however, if this is how you typically conduct your affairs. I assume I’m to be grateful for the dubious honor of receiving your particular brand of scrutiny?”

Clara let out a strangled sound that might have been a gasp or a laugh. The Duke, for his part, seemed to be wavering between feeling outrage and begrudging respect.

“You are either exceptionally brave or exceptionally foolish, Miss Balfour,” he said at last. “I have dismissed servants for far less impertinence.”

“Thankfully I am not your servant.” Evelina met his gaze unflinchingly. “And perhaps you should consider why a woman in my position would risk such impertinence. Could it be that I have faith in my worth and abilities, regardless of your attempts to undermine them?”

The Duke studied her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. “A fair point,” he conceded. “Though I maintain that your methods of argumentation leave much to be desired.”

“As do your methods of conducting interviews, Your Grace,” Evelina countered. “I came here prepared to discuss my qualifications and approach to education. Instead, here I am, defending myself against unfounded accusations and thinly veiled insults.”

The Duke’s lips twitched. “Touché, Miss Balfour. It seems we have both failed to put our best foot forward in this encounter.”

Evelina took a deep breath, attempting to rein in her temper. “Perhaps we might start anew, Your Grace? I assure you, I am more than capable of engaging in a civil and productive discussion of Lady Eliza’s educational needs.”

The Duke regarded her thoughtfully. “A tempting proposal. However, I find myself curious to see how you might fare in a more… challenging environment. Tell me, Miss Balfour, how would you respond if faced with a particularly recalcitrant student?”

Evelina’s brow furrowed. “I believe in tailoring my approach to the individual needs and temperament of each student, Your Grace. Without knowing the specific circumstances, it would be difficult to provide a definitive answer.”

“Come now, Miss Balfour,” the Duke pressed. “Surely a woman of your experience and intellect can offer some insight into your general philosophy on such matters.”

Evelina narrowed her eyes, sensing a trap. “Very well, Your Grace. In general, I find that even the most difficult students respond well to a combination of firm boundaries, consistent expectations, and positive reinforcement. It is crucial to identify the root cause of any behavioral issues and address them with patience and understanding.”

“An admirable sentiment,” the Duke replied, his tone maddeningly neutral. “And how, pray tell, would you apply such principles to a student who, for example, openly defied your authority and questioned your every instruction?”

Evelina’s patience, already stretched thin, was on the brink of snapping completely. “I would remind the said student that respect is earned, not demanded,” she replied. “And that true authority stems from knowledge, wisdom, and compassion—not from an accident of birth or an inflated sense of self-importance.”

The Duke’s eyebrows shot up. “I see. And you believe such an approach would be effective in maintaining discipline and order?”

“I believe it would be far more effective than attempting to browbeat a student into submission through intimidation and arbitrary displays of power,” Evelina replied, her voice sharp. “But perhaps you have a different perspective on the matter, Your Grace?”

For a moment, the Duke simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, to Evelina’s utter astonishment, he cocked his head and laughed—a soft, genuine sound that seemed to transform his entire countenance.

“Bravo, Miss Balfour,” he said, his eyes glinting with what might have been amusement. “I do believe you’ve managed to thoroughly upend every expectation I had for this interview.”

Evelina blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “I… I’m not entirely sure how to interpret that statement, Your Grace.”

The Duke’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Take it as a compliment, Miss Balfour. It has been a long time since anyone has dared to challenge me so directly. I find it… refreshing.”

Evelina’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Does this mean you are considering me for the position, Your Grace?”

“Absolutely not,” the Duke stated matter-of-factly. “I would never consider someone so insolent and lacking ladylike qualities to school my young daughter.”

Evelina’s heart sank. However, she squared her shoulders, determined not to show any sign of disappointment to such a callous man. “As you wish, Your Grace. I’ll take this as a sign from the heavens. Perhaps there is more suitable employment for me elsewhere.”

The man’s eyes were dark as he clucked his tongue. “Oh, I doubt anyone would take you in the way you are, Miss Balfour. Do not get your hopes up.”

“Thank you. Yet, what I do with my hopes is my concern only, Your Grace.”

With their gazes locked, the two breathed heavily, angling for another argument.

Evelina straightened her back, steadying herself. Yet, she still felt somewhat small under his piercing gaze.

There was something about the way he looked at her that made her want to melt…

“Well, I’d say things have finally come to a standstill, have they not?” The Countess’s anxious giggle filled the air, thankfully slicing through the tension.

“Good day, Miss Balfour. Aunt Clara.”

Not even bothering to give Evelina a second glance, the Duke gave a curt nod and then strode out of the room, leaving her reeling in his wake.

Clara hurried to her side, fanning herself vigorously. “Good heavens, my dear! I have never seen anyone speak to Gabriel in such a manner. I admit, I thought he might order you out of the house!”

Evelina’s jaw clenched. “He very nearly did, I suspect. However, I do not regret speaking my mind. The man is positively infuriating!”

“Now, now.” Clara patted her shoulder consolingly. “All may not be lost. Did you not see the look in Gabriel’s eyes? I do believe you managed to pique his interest, my dear. He does enjoy a challenge, you know.”

Evelina shook her head, still seething with indignation. “Be that as it may, I fear I have done little to endear myself to His Grace. How am I to work for a man who seems determined to think the worst of me before I’ve even begun?”

As they made their way back to the waiting carriage, Evelina’s mind whirled with conflicting emotions. The Duke’s arrogance certainly made her upset, yet she couldn’t deny the admiration that she had for his quick wit and deep intelligence.

And beneath it all, a small spark of… something, ignited by the memory of those piercing green eyes and that unexpected laugh.

Stop that this instant . You cannot afford such fanciful notions. Focus on finding a way to salvage this disaster of an interview.

She reminded herself as well that a man’s charm, after all, was not enough to make up for his insufferable demeanor.

As the carriage rolled away from Dunmore Estate, she huffed to herself, sensing that she had not seen the last of the infuriating Duke.

With a quiet sigh, she turned her gaze to the passing countryside, steeling herself for the difficult task of explaining this calamitous turn of events to her eagerly waiting sisters.

Whatever happened next, she knew she must find a way to provide for her family—even if it meant swallowing her pride and facing that maddening man once more.

Evelina Balfour was not a woman to be trifled with, and she was more determined than ever to prove her worth—to the Duke, to Society, and, most importantly, to herself.