Chapter 20

CHAPTER20

Meanwhile at the Leonbridge Estate, Evan found himself in an exceptionally great mood as he folded the letter and tucked it back into his drawer. Amy had received the flowers, and for once, she did not react bizarrely to it. Instead, she conveyed her thanks as well as her intention to see him again through the missive she had sent over. She made no outrageous proclamations of love, and Evan felt that he was finally seeing the side to her that nobody else in the ton was privy to, except her closest kin and friends.

He stared out of the window of his study and noted that although the day was not as fine as it was on that day they went on a picnic in his estate, he found it to be just as glorious. It was not sweltering hot, but it was not raining as dismally as it often did in London.

I wonder what she is doing now, he mused to himself with a small smile. Perhaps she should be resting more. Her gait was a little unstable when I finally let her go last night…

The last thought filled him with a male pride that he had not felt with all his other bed partners. Today, he was feeling rather good at having pleasured Amy so well that she found difficulty walking after.

Not that he was as comfortable as her, no. He was still so painfully hard when he made his way back to his own home that he had to stroke himself to completion before he could finally fall asleep. No other woman had ever affected him as much as she did.

And that was not all—he found that he did not want to just please her in bed, but in all other aspects outside of it, too. He had sent her the flowers this morning, hoping to brighten her day. It had taken all of his fortitude not to go over and see her, for he knew that he must restrain himself for the time being.

He did not want to scare her with his ardor, after all.

Again, this was something he had never done for any other woman, except Amy Clarke.

"Well, well, well. You seem to be in a rather fine mood today. I sincerely hope you are not plotting the untimely demise of some poor fellow."

Evan smiled wryly at the sudden disruption in his thoughts caused by his best friend’s jovial voice. Benedict was looking at him with an eyebrow raised as he and Charles walked into his study.

"I do not recall giving you permission to enter yet," he told them smoothly.

The Viscount rolled his eyes at that. "If you were of the mind to throw me out, you would have done so already. Fortunately, it seems that you are in rather good spirits today. Does it have something to do with a certain young lady, perhaps?"

Evan started to smile but then he recalled that it was the stupid bet he made with Benedict that tied his hands from being with Amy. On the other hand, if it was not for that same stupid bet, perhaps he would never have gotten to know her better.

"Nonsense," the Marquess scoffed coldly. "This is His Grace we are talking about. He would not lose his head over a mere woman."

Evan frowned at that. He did not like having another man refer to Lady Amy as a "mere woman"—not when she was more than that.

Infinitelymore than that.

"Well, could there be any other reason, then?" Benedict argued. "Look at him—he looks like the heavens just opened up and granted him the greatest desire of his dark heart!"

"I am pleased to know that you think so fondly of me," Evan muttered wryly. "Dark heart, indeed."

But then again, his friend was not too far off the mark with that one. After all, Evan once thought that having a father like the one he had, he would surely follow suit in his...proclivities. He never agreed with his sire on anything, but he was gravely disturbed by the fact that he quite possibly could take after him.

The man was a menace to humanity although most of the men of the aristocracy were of the same mind.

"Do not be daft, Burk. How could a duke—the Duke of Leonbridge at that—stoop to such pedestrian notions?" Charles argued.

"I hardly think that these are pedestrian notions, as you would call them, Charles," Evan told him softly. "Would you gentlemen care for some whiskey?"

"Is it not too early in the day to be getting foxed?" Benedict queried. "Are we celebrating or mourning something?"

"Benedict, you talk too much."

Evan shook his head and walked over to the liquor cabinet in his study. He extracted three glasses and a bottle of fine whiskey.

"You know, my friend, if I was not so appreciative of your fine handiwork, I might have been tempted to throw you out the door myself," he told his best friend and handed him a glass of whiskey. "As it stands, you have my thanks."

The Marquess of Repington looked perturbed as Evan handed him his glass. "And your meaning is?"

"I think that I might not be quite as bad as my father was," Evan shrugged.

"The sixth Duke of Leonbridge was an astute man," Charles argued. "He was above petty concerns—as a proper gentleman of the aristocracy should be."

It was no secret that Charles held a deep admiration for men like his father which was probably why Evan never felt as close a friendship with him as he did with Benedict. In the past, he had merely thought that the Marquess was firmly ensconced in the mindset of the ton. Although Evan disagreed with Charles on many aspects, he was still better than a lot of the other men of Society.

However, Evan still found many of Charles’ preferences disturbingly similar to that of the sixth Duke of Leonbridge. This happened to be one of them, unfortunately.

"So, are you saying that I am not a proper gentleman of the aristocracy?" Benedict shot back at the Marquess sarcastically.

Charles merely shrugged. "I am just saying that these are not the things we should be bothered with. Why, we marry simply to be able to sire heirs who will inherit our lands and titles. Legacy," he finished, "is of utmost importance, and we should only marry women who know and understand their place—"

"That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard!" Evan remarked icily, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

In this argument, Charles was beginning to sound eerily like his father. In fact, it almost seemed as if the sixth Duke of Leonbridge had risen from the grave to give his lecture about legacy and the place of women in Society.

Evan had had just about enough of it.

The Marquess of Repington, however, looked at Evan as if he had gone mad.

"Are you saying," he enunciated slowly, "that you believe otherwise?"

Evan glared coolly at him. "I am saying that I have avoided matrimony ever since I came into my title because I never wanted to be anything like my father. He was an odious man, and I suppose there are many who are glad to see him dead. You, my friend, are beginning to sound exactly like him."

Charles raised his chin defiantly, looking extremely offended at Evan’s words. "I am not wrong in this aspect."

"Perhaps," Evan countered. "But you are in my house, and I disdain that sort of thinking in here!"

Benedict quickly came up between the two men who looked like they were about to come to blows. "Gentlemen!" he pleaded. "Think of the carpet! It will be absolutely impossible to clean the blood off the carpet!"

"Shut up, Benedict!" Evan snapped at him.

Charles looked taken aback by the sheer venom in his friend’s voice and rightly so, because Evan had never before raised his voice at anyone like that—and most definitely, not at him.

"I do not recognize you anymore," he muttered softly, disgust clear in his pale blue eyes. "What happened to the great Duke of Leonbridge that I knew?"

"I have always been like this," Evan told him softly. "It is perhaps you who never saw it with your clouded judgment."

The Marquess smiled coldly at that. "My judgment is clouded?" he sneered. "I beg to differ, Your Grace—it is you who allowed your judgment to be clouded and by a mere woman at that!"

Evan swore softly under his breath. If Charles dared to utter anything remotely derogatory about Amy, he just might forget the fragile bond of their friendship and deck him right here in the study.

Fortunately, the Marquess of Repington pulled away, his features hard as granite. "It seems as if I have misjudged the company I kept all this time, Your Grace."

He bowed mockingly at Evan before he strode angrily out of the room.

Benedict heaved a sigh of relief and sat down on the velvet-upholstered couch, shaking his head. "Damn, I never knew that Charles was going to say that sort of twisted rubbish!"

Evan looked at the closed door with a cold glint in his eyes. "He is hardly the only one who thinks so."

"That is quite true, unfortunately."

The men of the aristocracy, for all their veneer of civility and etiquette, had sadly never moved on from the antiquated thinking that women were chattel to be bought and used. That once a woman married, they were the property of their husbands.

Evan had seen firsthand how his mother suffered under such a man and vowed he would never be like his father—even if that meant he would never marry and have his own children.

But Amy had changed all of that. Because of her, he began to reconsider his own mindset.

Perhaps, he truly could be a better husband than his sire was...

"Never mind what that fool says," Benedict told him, smiling encouragingly up at him. "I think being with Lady Amy has done wonders for your disposition."

"Aside from driving me insane for the better part of the week?"

"Face it, Evan—you needed that."

Evan smiled wryly. "I suppose I did."

"She turned you right on your head and set you right, my friend."

In a way, she really did—and she did it in the most wonderful way. If his mother had been alive, she would have probably adored her...

"I think," he said softly, "that I would like to spend more time with her even after the challenge is over."

"Well, I am certainly glad that it has worked out wonderfully for you." Benedict raised his glass of whiskey at Evan. "As it has done for me."

Evan raised an eyebrow at him. "I heard that you have been calling on Lady Esther frequently yourself."

"I cannot help it. We have the most fascinating conversations. It was the first time a woman did not talk to me about the weather or fashion or the latest gossip." The Viscount shuddered at the mere mention of those things. "Lady Esther... she is different."

"So is Lady Amy."

Both friends shared a smile before tossing back the rest of their whiskey together. It would seem that they both benefited from what seemed like a stupid deal in the beginning.

Now, if only Evan could last just a few more days...

He shook his head at that. What were a few more days, anyway?

Besides, he was going to be seeing Lady Amy for far beyond that...

* * *

The staff of the Repington Estate knew better than to disturb their master when the Marquess of Repington was in a foul mood, and today just happened to be one of those days.

Charles strode straight into his study right after he arrived and barricaded himself inside it. He leaned over the grand oak desk that had belonged to his father and his father’s father before him, his knuckles white as they clutched the edge.

This desk had served several marquesses of their line and was a testament to the prestige of their family. The men of his family did not achieve great heights because they were soft. Nor did they do that by catering to the whims of women.

No, the Marquesses of Repington strictly adhered to traditional values, and their Marchionesses were women who all knew their place.

Charles had initially thought that Evan was just like him—that he was a man that could be trusted not to be swayed by feminine wiles. After all, the sixth Duke of Leonbridge had been just as strict in raising his heir as Charles’s father had been with him.

Who would have thought that in less than two weeks, a woman that was so reviled by the rest of Society would be able to change his mind? They even very nearly came to blows over such a trivial matter!

Charles gritted his teeth at the very thought. It seems that even the people I thought I knew could be swayed so easily!

Lady Amy was a woman who did not know her place. She flaunted the rules of Society and was scorned by ladies and gentlemen alike. What could Evan possibly see in her?

He was going to make the Duke of Leonbridge see reason. He was going to prove to his "friend" that he was wrong.

He must!