Warwicke turned towards her and gave a respectful bow. “My lady.”
She offered a graceful curtsy. “Would you care to join us for dinner, my lord?”
“That’s kind of you, but I intend to dine with my wife this evening,” Warwicke replied. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Evander watched his friend go, then turned his attention fully to Olivia. Her pale green gown was a perfect complement to the fair glow of her skin. Her hair, drawn back into a neat chignon, was threaded with pearls that caught the light like tiny stars.
He stepped closer, his voice soft. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she replied with a smile. “You look rather dashing yourself.”
He offered his arm. “My father is out. I hope you don’t mind dining with only me.”
A mischievous smile danced on her lips. “There are worse ways to spend an evening. But I refuse to play chess with you again. You cheat.”
Evander chuckled, grateful for her lightness. “Not the way I see it.”
“Then you see it wrong,” she teased. “There’s a right way and a wrong way to play chess.”
“You were simply a sore loser.”
She rolled her eyes. “You tried using your wooden soldiers as chess pieces. Those don’t belong on a board.”
“I disagree. It made the game more exciting.”
“You claimed checkmate after one move!”
Evander shrugged. “Those are the rules—my rules.”
She laughed, and the sound warmed him. “You are utterly delusional.”
As they strolled towards the dining room, he asked, “How was the circulating library?”
“I ran into Lady Jane,” Olivia replied, her tone sobering. “She’s to marry the Duke of Brackenford.”
Evander’s steps faltered. “That poor girl.”
“We have to help her,” Olivia said, eyes burning with quiet determination.
“Of course. But how?”
“She said her father would disown her if she refused. If that happens, could she stay with us?”
“If that’s what you want, then yes. She’s welcome.”
They reached the dining room, and Evander pulled out her chair with a practiced hand. Once she was seated, he took his usual place across from her.
Olivia laid her napkin across her lap. “I spoke with Miss Winslow today as well. She’s connected to Mr. Fairchild.”
“The man who writes forThe Morning Post?”
“Yes. And he owes her a favor. She’s going to have him publish an article about Jane’s engagement.”
Evander took a sip from his wine glass. “Do you think that will help?”
“It might. If Society disapproves, it could pressure the duke to withdraw his offer of marriage.”
He arched a brow. “That’s quite the gamble.”
