“La, sir.We all have our troubles.My hair didn’t curl correctly tonight.”
“Now, Lady Evelyn, I know you better than that.You are your father’s daughter.I’m guessing it was something weightier than that.”
“Well, yes.Have you corresponded with the new Duke of Rutland, sir?”
“Rutland, Rutland,” he said with a pensive look.“I believe so.”
“I think you’ll find his politics similar to your own; you might find him an ally.And when he visits London, he’ll be looking for an entrée into the clubs and soirées.”
“How do you know this, child?”
“My family visited him briefly last month.I…overheard the men discussing Lords’ business one afternoon.”
He chuckled.“Truly your father’s daughter.”
The servant at the ballroom doors announced the next guest.“The Duke—”
The crowd hushed.Evie managed not to roll her eyes.Ah, London.No wonder Xander had no patience for it.The man could be the cruelest, most horrible person in the world but they’d pander to him based on that four-letter word.
“—of Rutland.”
Evie’s jaw dropped even before Xander stepped through the door, clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides.He wanted to fidget, to rip the cravat from around his neck, she could see it all flit through his eyes.
Instead, he stepped into the room without meeting anyone’s eyes, as his stepfather and mother were announced.Murmurs rose on a swell as heads leaned toward each other, reminding their companions who North was to Xander and how it all came to be.
The older statesman turned to her.“That was quite the party trick, Lady Evelyn.’Tis as though you conjured him.”He bowed his head.“If you’ll excuse me, I shall find your father and ask for an introduction.”
Within a quarter hour, Xander and North were surrounded by Members of Parliament, talking and gesturing.Evie pictured standing by his side listening, or more likely rousing, the wives on whatever subject was at hand.Dragging her gaze from him, she saw North’s wife sitting against the wall chatting with another lady.
Evie’s mother, standing with a beautiful lady somewhere between her and her mother’s age, gestured Evie over.
“Countess, may I present my daughter, Lady Evelyn.Evie, this is Lady Charlotte, Countess of Harrington.”
Evie curtsied.“My lady, ’tis a pleasure.”
“Lovely to meet you.Please call me Charlotte, and may I call you Evie?I hate standing on formality.”
Evie blinked.She liked this woman already.She’d heard about her in London circles, as the former Countess of Peterborough who managed the estate’s finances and was one of the wealthiest people—man or woman—in England as a result.She had married the Earl of Harrington and brought the Harrington estate back from ruin by the previous earl, in between bearing an heir and a spare.
“Your mother tells me you are betrothed to the Duke of Rutland.”
Evie shot her mother a sharp look.“I was betrothed to the previous duke.The new duke is…well, new.”
Charlotte smiled.“Well put.”
The small orchestra began warming up.
Charlotte said, “That is my cue to find my husband.Ladies, might I presume to call on you tomorrow?”
Her mother accepted with alacrity.
The musical instruments made Evie gulp in fear.She was not yet ready to face Xander.Worse, she might cast up her accounts if he danced with another woman.There was no doubt he’d be very much in demand with the débutantes and their mothers.“Mama, please.I have a sore head, and the music is making it worse.Might we leave now?
Her mother eyed her suspiciously, no doubt wishing to ask if her head had begun to hurt when Xander arrived, but went to find the earl and make their excuses.He stayed, opting to go to his club with a few cronies later.
She escaped to the carriage, sinking into the corner of the squabs and closing her eyes, unable to fathom a time when she would be free of the pain of loss.
* * * *
