He noted—as he had since returned from Edinburgh—that she refused to address him with his title, just as he refused to call her “Your Grace.”
“It is quite urgent,” he said. “I do hope you won’t mind a little discomfort.”
“Discomfort?” she echoed. “My reading has been interrupted, but I’ll manage.”
“Oh yes, and I’m afraid the books and shelves will need to stay outside your chambers for a while. I know it may be a bit of a maze, but I’m having the library renovated, and your wing is nearby, so it’s the most convenient space.”
“There’s an unused drawing room across from the library. Why not use that?”
“Oh, but that’s the private drawing room assigned to the Duchess of Sinclair.”
“I’m not using it.”
“Well, all arrangements have been made. I wouldn’t want to confuse Bennett and the footmen by altering the plan now. And there are more renovations to come. There may be some noise. Should you find it unbearable…”
Her jaw tensed, eyes narrowed, but a sweet smile formed on her lips.
“Do not fret,” she said. “I’ve lived through far worse than a little noise and mess. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for tomorrow.”
He watched her go, noting how she threw her head back in defiance. His cheeks hurt from grinning as widely as he did, for he knew that while she was defiant and confident now, things might look quite different in a few days’ time.
CHAPTER 6
Evelyn 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 thecrackling 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.
