Chapter 6

CHAPTER6

"You really are taking this quite seriously, are you not?"

Evan looked up from the documents he had been perusing and smiled slightly. Earlier in the morning, he had sent in a ridiculous bouquet of flowers as well as his card, conveying his express intention to see Lady Amy Clarke for tea in the afternoon.

He could only imagine that the lady in question might not take such attention kindly.

Evan had never before encountered such an odd young lady. She was neither servile nor overtly flattering. In fact, she was outright disdainful of him—and all the other gentlemen in the ton, perhaps—but that was to his advantage. As long as no other man approached Lady Amy, he would have her undivided attention.

As to what she intends to do now that I have put myself in her path, that remains to be seen...

"I happen to find the Lady Amy quite... invigorating."

Benedict shook his head at that. "Invigorating? I suppose in the same way that one finds the exercise of wrestling with a famished crocodile would be." He shuddered at the mental image of such a thing.

"Just because the Lady did not look kindly upon you does not mean she will do the same to me."

"Yes, and I suppose that is due to your overflowing charm."

"Naturally."

How could it be any other way? Evan had always had a talent for charming ladies so that he had hordes of them eating out of the palm of his hand. Some really feisty young widows would even fall over themselves for a chance to get into his bed. Opera singers and dancers vied for his patronage while the young and unmarried misses of the ton longed for him to even cast a glance upon them.

No matter how cold or sharp-tongued Lady Amy Clarke was, she was still a young lady, and Evan was quite confident that he would succeed in getting on her good side.

Even if she did make known her distaste for his attentions and stomped on his feet all throughout their second dance.

"The gossips are all afire with what you did last night," the Viscount remarked. "They could not believe you would dance with Lady Amy twice when Elizabeth Throckmorton had been hanging onto your arm shamelessly."

Elizabeth Throckmorton was yet another young widow amongst the fast set and it was an open secret that she had set her sights on Evan. She might not be angling for the position of the Duchess of Leonbridge, but she most certainly would like to occupy a more permanent spot in his bed.

"Last week, she was hanging onto Lord Foster’s arm, and I guarantee that by next week, she will be all over Charles Lock," Evan snorted.

"But you have to admit, she does have a certain charm..."

"If one were predisposed to it, yes."

In truth, he found the widow too much of a loose cannon to have any sort of long-term relationship with her—even one that was strictly within the confines of his bed.

Besides, he was finding that he much preferred the cold disdain of Lady Amy Clarke over that of the tempting Lady Elizabeth Throckmorton.

"You do not have a very high opinion of Society’s ladies, do you?"

Evan stilled at that. It was not that he had a low opinion of the women in the ton. In fact, he would go so far as to say that he had a rather low opinion of himself when it came to human relations—a fault that could be laid at the doorstep of his own sire.

But Evan had no desire to dwell on his late father when he had sworn that he would never let the sixth Duke of Leonbridge and his mistakes haunt him for the rest of his life.

The sins of the father are visited on the heads of his sons...

Somehow, that old adage from the Bible always unnerved him. He was never a deeply religious man, nor did he ever profess to be.

It was just that there were some things that he would much rather avoid, and this was one of them.

If the sixth Duke of Leonbridge ever had any idea of what Evan had been planning for the rest of his mortal life, he would be tumbling over in his grave in rage.

But Evan simply did not want his deceased father to have the last laugh from... wherever he was in the afterlife. Besides, he had a younger brother to inherit the title and lands of the Duke of Leonbridge. It was hardly likely that the line would die with him, when Adam—as well as his progeny—could take on the mantle in the event of his demise.

"Well, since you are set on this, I shall leave you to it, then," Benedict grinned as he stood up. "I look forward to your progress with Lady Amy Clarke, Your Grace."

Between the two of them, Benedict need not be quite so formal with titles and statuses, and whenever he referred to Evan by his title, it was mostly in good-natured fun between two best friends.

"Hmm... maybe when you have the time, you might want to accompany us," Evan suggested. "It would be boorish of me to steal Lady Amy’s time all for myself. Do you not think that Lady Esther would be rather forlorn?"

"You seem confident that the young lady in question will be amenable to spending an inordinate amount of time with you."

It was true that Lady Amy looked like she would rather be anywhere else than in close proximity to Evan himself, but he was working to change her mind on that. And when he did succeed—as he gathered he would in less than a fortnight—then he would rope Benedict in to accompany Lady Esther as well.

It was only fair, after all.

"Just clear up your schedule for a picnic or two," Evan told him with a grin. "You might even be invited to join us for tea."

"I look forward to it," Benedict chortled, tipping his hat in Evan’s direction before striding out of his study.

After his best friend finally left him alone, Evan stood up from his desk and strode over to the windows, smiling a little as he recalled the events of last night.

Although her unhappiness in being led onto the dance floor was quite obvious, he still could not understand why she did not outright refuse him when she had done so countless times in the past. Was it because of his status? He sincerely doubted that.

Lady Amy Clarke did not seem like the type to bow down before such things as titles and wealth—which was already intriguing in itself.

Her behavior seemed rather odd to him which made him all the more eager to see her again and discover for himself what Lady Amy was truly up to...

* * *

Whatever it was Evan expected of Lady Amy during teatime that afternoon... well, he could not be more wrong.

"Your Grace!" Her voice was filled with breathless wonder when she met him in the drawing room dressed in the most awful piece of clothing known to mankind. Not only did it look like some seamstress had fashioned it from a sack of potatoes, but it failed to highlight the luster of her hair, the translucent glow of her skin, or the vivid green of her eyes.

As to why Evan noticed all of those, he had no idea.

Still, Lady Amy greeted him with the brightest smile he had ever seen grace a woman’s face—brighter even than that time he had asked Miss Catherine Humphrey to dance when she wouldn’t detach herself from his arm.

Good God, how could a woman have such a disarming smile?Evan thought to himself, mentally shaking his head. And to think she did it wearing that monstrosity of fashion she called a dress.

"I have been waiting all day for your arrival," she told him, her hands clasped together in excitement.

"I... trust that you received the flowers I sent you this morning?"

"Oh yes! I was planning to press them so that I can forever keep the memory of your first gift alive!" She looked up at him with shining eyes. "Just like my ardent affections for Your Grace!"

Her what? Evan nearly backed a step as Lady Amy all but professed her undying love for him. However, he could not allow himself to be so weak, so he held his ground and smiled at her as he held out a bouquet. It was smaller than the one he had sent her earlier this morning, but no less as beautiful or expensive.

"Oh my!" she breathed, her eyes round with wonder. "Are these truly for me, Your Grace?"

"Ah... yes, of course." He shoved the flowers into her hands, hoping that the bouquet would keep her preoccupied, because truly, he was going out of his mind trying to deduce what to expect of her right now.

Why was Lady Amy behaving like an addled woman? Where was her sharp wit and even sharper tongue? Did...did insanity run in the Marquess of Irington’s bloodline?

But Lady Amy was still quite coherent if only a little strange. Well, more than just a little strange, actually.

She was acting like she had taken leave of her bloody sensibilities!

"You must be rather taken aback by my actions today," she continued, prattling on in a voice reminiscent of a bird who had been force fed a bitter cup of coffee. "In truth, I could scarcely believe it myself, Your Grace. I... I am so taken by Your Grace’s presence! These... these are merely the effects of true love!"

Tears shone in her eyes, and Evan heard warning bells go off in his head. Was she going to cry? What the hell was he supposed to do if she did?

In fact, how the hell was he supposed to handle a situation that had gotten so out of hand?

"Err... why don’t you sit down for a moment," he advised her, "lest you feel overwhelmed, Lady Amy."

She brushed at the corner of her eyes and shook her head. "Your Grace cares for me so tenderly. How could my heart not fall for you?"

All this from just asking her to sit? I was afraid she was going to faint from the way she kept batting her damned eyelashes at me!

"I... was more afraid you would tip over and fall," he muttered.

She smiled up at him as if he hung the moon and the stars in her night sky. "Your presence brings me so much happiness, Your Grace. You truly are the most wonderful man in the entire world. Oh, how fortunate I am that you have paid so much attention to me!"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him like a genuine half-wit, and Evan nearly groaned and strode out of the room. But if he did that, then it was tantamount to admitting to Benedict that he had lost and could not handle the affections of a woman up close.

"On second thought," he smiled at her in extreme discomfort, "why don’t we both go out for a walk? The weather is rather excellent, and it would be such a shame to waste it indoors—"

"As usual, Your Grace makes the most excellent suggestions!" she beamed up at him. "But... perhaps I am not dressed as well as Your Grace…"

Yes... In fact, I have never before seen such a hideous outfit, Evan thought to himself.

"...and still, you would want to be seen with me!" she finished, her eyes wide with awe.

Wait—what?

It was too late when Evan realized the grave error of his suggestion. He had thought to suggest an outdoor excursion, thinking it might curb Lady Amy’s strange behavior if they were both outside in the public eye. He had failed to realize that by bringing her out, he was exposing them both to public scrutiny.

Evan then wished he could take back his words and shove them down Benedict’s throat.

Damn that man forever suggesting Lady Amy—the woman was clearly mad!

Well, there were still thirteen more days to go. He had best steel himself for whatever insanity the woman would cook up for him then!