Chapter 8

CHAPTER8

That woman was mad—there was absolutely no other explanation for it.

One moment, she was hissing at him like an angry cat, the next she was stomping on his feet like a bear. And now…

Now, she was looking up at him like a thrice damned puppy.

No, he had had better behaved dogs before and even his craziest hounds had nothing on Lady Amy Clarke.

"Damn that Benedict!" he cursed under his breath as he poured himself a glass of brandy from his study. "How was I supposed to know that Amy Clarke is certifiably insane?"

Otherwise, he would have never agreed to his best friend’s ridiculous challenge.

I have to admit that it was a lack of judgment on my part, he grimaced to himself. But a woman like Amy Clarke should never have been let loose in the ballrooms of London—never mind if she has the most enchanting emerald eyes I have ever seen on anybody...

Evan cursed himself as he poured himself another glass. What the hell was wrong with him? Was her insanity contagious? Why was he thinking of her more... redeemable qualities?

Honestly, those things should not even matter when the woman had fairly managed to drive him to Bedlam with her antics.

"Is it not too early in the day to be drinking?" a laughing voice interrupted his thoughts.

Evan glanced up, and his eyes instantly narrowed when he saw Benedict grinning from the doorway of his study along with Charles Lock. The two hardly got along well together without Evan, so he figured out that they might have the same purpose of seeing him.

"We were just going to see if you would be up for a night at White’s," the Marquess of Repington remarked drolly. "But I can see that you are otherwise occupied."

"I take it that your visit to the estate of the Marquess of Irington did not go as well as planned?"

Evan glared at his best friend. How could anything involving Lady Amy Clarke ever go as planned? That woman not only defied conventions—she defied logic as well.

"Lady Amy Clarke is absolutely insane," he growled. "One moment, she is dismissive and even adversarial, and the next moment—"

He watched as his best friend and the Marquess made their way into his study without even being invited and sat comfortably upon his couch. Somehow, the sight of it irritated Evan. In fact, everything irritated him right now.

"The next moment what? Do go on. I believe we are getting to the most exciting part."

He shot the Marquess a withering glance before he continued, "Now, she has our future all planned out, complete with the names she has prepared for any possible offspring we might have!"

Benedict burst out laughing at that. "Well, it seems like your charms have finally won over Lady Amy Clarke."

Charles merely raised an eyebrow although his icy blue eyes glittered with interest. "Indeed. Although, something seems amiss."

"What do you mean?"

"Certainly no woman can change so quickly overnight," he explained. He shot Evan a sly look. "And I suppose that is what has His Grace all up in knots."

As much as Evan found Charles Lock annoying most of the time, he had to admit the man was pretty sharp and picked up on a lot of things from observation alone.

"Charles is right," Evan agreed. "I believe that it is the lady’s intention to drive me mad."

But why? She could refuse to see him outright, and that would be the end of that. Why did she need to go through such a farce, acting like an absolute half-wit as she clung to him like a limpet?

How does one explain the logic of a madwoman like Amy Clarke anyway?

"So, does that mean that you give up?" Benedict asked him hopefully.

"Do not be daft," Evan snapped at him. He was already in an ornery mood from trying to make heads or tails out of the events of this afternoon. Benedict goading him was the last thing he needed.

He did not like the thought of ending their years of friendship for such a trifling matter, but it seemed like his best friend was particularly oblivious to the precarious state they were in.

Either that, or Benedict was deriving some sort of sadistic joy out of seeing him squirm.

"If I may, I think that Lady Amy’s intentions were already made known at the Glendale ball," Charles told them smoothly with that same subtle smile hovering on his lips. "This is simply her way of further dissuading His Grace."

"Of course, I already know that."

"Then, the only way to fix that is to stop seeing her, Your Grace."

Benedict grinned. "But that would mean you are admitting you lose."

Like hell I will!

There was nothing Evan hated more, but what was he to do? Was he supposed to go on as he did for the next thirteen days? It was becoming apparent that conventional ways would not work with a woman like Amy Clarke. No, he had to think of something else.

Something that would make it harder for her to continue with this show.

Something that would inevitably make her drop her guard so that she became more receptive to him.

And then, what? Evan frowned at that. What was he supposed to do once the Lady opened herself up to him?

He certainly could not carry on with the courtship! Those things led down the matrimonial aisle, and Evan had no intention of venturing into those murky waters.

He knew himself well enough to be certain that he would not make a good husband—for Lady Amy or any other woman, no matter how beautiful, courageous, and smart she was. Being with a woman for so long...it was bound to bring out the darkness in him, and he did not want that.

He did not want to turn out just like him.

But he could not lose out to Benedict either. All he had to do was prove that he was capable of accompanying a woman for as long as a fortnight, and at the end of it all, he could cut things off cleanly by saying that they would never suit each other.

Because that was the truth. Evan would never be suitable for any gently bred woman of the ton.

They might speak of him in such flattering words, but that was because they only saw the man, the title, the wealth, and the clothes. They had no idea of the darkness that lurked beneath the veneer of civility and polished manners.

"So, what do you intend to do, then?"

Evan poured out two more glasses of brandy and handed it out to the two other gentlemen with a smirk. "I was thinking that it would all be easier if I had company."

"You mean—"

"An excursion," he clarified with a devious smile. "I think that Lady Amy Clarke has spent too much time in ballrooms and soirées. Perhaps a change of scenery in the company of good people would be most ideal."

"A capital idea!" Benjamin declared.

"I am pleased that you would see it that way," Evan grinned at him, "for you shall be accompanying me—as well as Lady Amy and her friends—on this outing." He turned to Charles. "You are welcome to join us as well, Lock."

"What? Lady Amy has friends aside from that bluestocking—"

"Careful with your words, my friend," he admonished Benedict. "You would not want to offend the young ladies with your bad manners."

While Benedict sputtered in protest, Charles looked as if he was seriously pondering the invitation as he stared intently at the liquid swirling in his glass.

"An outing with the most unconventional ladies in the ton," he mused. "It certainly sounds more promising than a day cooped up in my study."

"You can’t seriously be considering his proposal!" the Viscount exclaimed, aghast.

But Evan clamped a hand on his shoulder. "As my very good friend, I know I can count on you, Ben."

"You would be better off inviting those two out to a poetry reading or an afternoon in the library," Benedict groused.

"Do not tell me that you find daunting the prospect of spending time with the most intellectual young ladies in the ton..."

"Damn you, Evan!"

Just like he could not resist a good challenge, Evan knew his best friend was much the same.

"Well then, Norton!" he called out.

The butler of the Leonbridge Estate appeared immediately as if he had never been more than a few paces away from the door to the study, eagerly awaiting his master’s orders.

"Kindly send word to the Irington Estate that I would like to invite Lady Amy Clarke out to go riding tomorrow." He smiled at the butler’s impassive face. "And tell her that she may bring as many of her friends as she likes!"

If Norton was shocked at hearing his master send out an invitation for a young lady, he did not show it. He had been trained well enough to keep his nose out of his master’s business.

"I doubt that Lady Amy has any other friends, though..."

Evan smiled wickedly at his grumbling friend. "In that case, then you should be glad that you will be dealing with just one other young lady."

If it was just him and Lady Amy alone, who knew what antics she would get up to? However, in the company of her friends and his, it would be quite hard for her to maintain whatever facade she had been putting up thus far.

Already, Evan was looking forward to their excursion tomorrow...

* * *

They had already run out of tea and scones when George knocked discreetly on the door of the salon.

"Oh, George, there you are!" Amy beamed. "Perfect timing as always! We were just about done with tea."

"Milady, a messenger left this for you."

Amy frowned as the butler handed her a fancy envelope with her name written on the back in a strong, masculine scrawl. The letters stood out from the paper as if they held a sort of authority on their own. She had never before seen such handwriting before.

"Who is it from?" she asked in confusion.

"From His Grace," George intoned, "the Duke of Leonbridge."

Amy nearly dropped the missive as her hands trembled. "His Grace?"

What could that man possibly want?

Was he going to reprimand her for her atrocious behavior earlier? Or was he going to express his most unfortunate regret that their friendship could not go on?

"Amy."

She looked up to find Esther looking at her with a concerned look.

"You will not find out what he wants if you keep holding on to it so tightly," her best friend told her gently.

That was when she noticed that she had been gripping the envelope tightly. She felt a rush of warmth up her cheeks in embarrassment.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I must see what that man wants..."

If George ever noticed how she casually referred to a duke of the realm as "that man," he made no sign of it.

Amy tore through the envelope and fished out the fancy paper within it. Her eyes first met the crest of the Duke of the Leonbridge, and her heart fell. It looked genuine which eliminated the probability that this was most likely a scam.

Her eyes ran over the contents of the letter quickly.

And then she read it all over again.

It was impossible! How could he do this?

"Is something wrong?" Esther’s voice was filled with concern for her friend.

Her numb hands dropped to her lap, and she turned to her friend with a shocked face. "His Grace just invited me to go riding with him tomorrow to be followed by a picnic on his estate."

She thought she had successfully managed to scare him off. Why was he responding with another invitation? Did he truly enjoy putting himself through torture?

Or perhaps what she did was not enough?

Whatever it was, she knew she could not refuse him because of her agreement with her father. Fortunately, there was something else in his invitation that promised to make this even more bearable for her.

"He also says that I might bring as many friends as I want," she choked out.

"But... but we don’t have that many friends, Amy."

She turned her desperate eyes to her best friend. "Esther, will you come with me?"

At first, her friend seemed to balk at the idea of joining her on this, but then she smiled. "Very well, my dear friend, I would love to."

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" Amy cried out, throwing her arms around her best friend.

Esther laughed softly and patted her back reassuringly. "At least, I will be able to get away from Mother and all the gentlemen she means for me to marry..."

"Dear Esther, I think Lady Farthingon means for you to marry just one of them—and not the whole lot."

"Touché, my dear. I should have worded it a little more carefully."

Both young ladies shared a look before bursting into giggles.

Amy turned to George and pressed her lips. "Send word to His Grace that Lady Esther Follet and I would love to join him tomorrow. We hope that our presence will not be too much of a burden to him."

"As you wish, Milady."

As the butler left to do her bidding, Amy began to wrack her brains as to how she was going to shake the Duke off. Perhaps, if she acted just as absurdly in the presence of his friends, maybe—just maybe—he might finally be persuaded to leave her be.

Your Grace, you truly are proving to be a more stubborn man than I initially considered!