But if he let her win, he’d get a fortnight—a reprieve. No matchmaking. Time to… spend with her. Time to watch her smile when she thought no one saw. Time to see her wield a saber again.
No, he scolded himself. Foolish thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. He was not here to entertain her. He was here to find her a husband.
People were already talking. A young widow living with her late husband’s heir—unmarried? Now fencing?
He had to end this.
He surged forward—quick feints, blade high and low in rapid succession. Evelyn parried with fierce intensity, but herbreathing was ragged. Her movements were slower. Sweat dotted her brow.
One final thrust—he disengaged her blade, twisted his wrist, and tapped her on the shoulder with the blunt edge of his saber.
Match over.
Her saber clattered to the ground. She bent, hands on her knees, panting.
“Damn it,” she muttered.
He lowered his blade, trying to calm his breath.
“You fought well,” he said. “Far better than I expected.”
“Your condescension is noted,” she gasped, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Enjoy your fortnight of matchmaking, Your Grace.”
He managed a faint smile. “Indeed, I shall.”
But as he watched her turn and leave the room, her spine straight despite her fatigue, Nathaniel felt something strange in his chest.
He had won.
And yet, somehow… it did not feel like victory.
CHAPTER 12
The following week, Evelyn sat in Nathaniel’s grand carriage, her fingers tapping against her leg. They were on their way to Almack’s—it had taken Nathaniel’s cousin only a week to secure guest vouchers, thanks to his friend Julian and Julian’s well-connected aunt, one of the lady patrons. Evelyn had hoped it would take longer. In fact, she was still rather vexed with herself for losing the duel in the first place. She had done so well. Until she had slipped. She had nearly freed herself from these tedious courtships for an entire month, only to lose in the final moment.
How frustrating.
Her thoughts drifted back to that afternoon—not to the duel itself, but to the moment Nathaniel had stepped behind her to adjust her grip. She now had to admit, reluctantly, that it had been necessary. It had given her much better control over her saber.
She recalled the sensation of him standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her knee into a more comfortable position. Had he sniffed her hair? It certainly sounded like it—but that would be odd. Wouldn’t it? And yet, at the moment, she had found it rather… enticing.
And his hands—so smooth and soft on top of hers.
I am making a fool of myself. I must stop these silly thoughts at once!
“You’ll have to be a little livelier than this,” he said beside her.
She snapped out of her reverie. “Lively? Now you even critique my demeanor? Is a lady not allowed to sit quietly as she’s being driven to her?—”
He raised an eyebrow. “Please do not say ‘slaughter’ or compare yourself again to meat at the market. I’ve heard it before. You lost fair and square. I won, and this is my reward. You were the one who insisted on placing a wager.”
That was true. She had insisted. Why had she done that? She didn’t know. In hindsight, it had been incredibly foolish.
And now here they were on their way to Almack’s.
Or rather, they had arrived. The carriage came to a stop. A line of carriages stretched around the block, but Nathaniel didn’t wishto wait. He leaped out, opened the door, and offered her his hand.
“Let’s go,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I last came here. And if what I hear is correct, it will be teeming with eligible gentlemen. You may walk out with a fiancé.”
