Gillingham stepped in and bowed. “I apologize for the interruption, but Lord Luca Dexter has requested a moment of your time.”
Evander’s answer was immediate, and uncharacteristically short. “Send him away.”
Before Gillingham could so much as turn, a tall figure entered without invitation. He was striking—dark-haired, well-dressed, and carrying a satchel slung over his shoulder with a casual air that clashed with the intensity in his gaze.
“I assumed you wouldn’t wish to see me,” he said, his voice smooth and self-assured as he approached the end of the table, “but I must speak to you.”
Evander exhaled, slow and annoyed. “Very well. What is it that you want?”
Lord Luca shifted his attention to Olivia and bowed. “Your husband seems to have forgotten his manners. I am Lord Luca Dexter.”
“As have you,” Olivia replied. “You were not invited into my dining room.”
“I assure you that you will want to hear this.”
Olivia inclined her head, offering him a polite smile even as her instincts told her to be cautious. “Very well, my lord. Would you care to join us?—”
“No,” Evander cut in sharply. “Lord Luca will not be staying long.”
Her brows lifted. That tone from Evander—cold, clipped—was rare. Even more so in front of company.
Lord Luca didn’t seem the least bit bothered. A slow smile crept across his face. “That is true,” he said, eyes on Evander. “But your response was rather harsh.”
Evander wasn’t amused. “Just tell us what you want and be done with it.”
The humor dropped instantly from Lord Luca’s face, and the air in the room shifted with it. “I heard someone threw a rock at your father and knocked him unconscious.”
Evander narrowed his eyes. “How in the blazes did you know that?”
“It’s my job to know such things,” Lord Luca replied, already pulling something from his satchel. “That’s why I’m here. The same thing happened to Lord Lancaster. He was threatened so persistently he had no choice but to sell his indigo plantation.”
He withdrew a folded paper and offered it to Evander, but Olivia saw that he was watching both of them now, gauging their reactions.
“You’ll never guess who purchased the plantation,” Lord Luca said.
Evander unfolded the page, barely glancing at it before muttering, “Lord Harwood.”
“Yes,” Lord Luca confirmed. “But the purchase was finalized before he died aboard that ship. And the more I dig, the more I suspect his death—and your brother’s—were not accidents. Someone is orchestrating all of this. I can’t say who yet, but I intend to find out.”
“I am not interested in my brother’s death being made a spectacle in your newssheets,” Evander said, his tone curt.
Lord Luca lifted his hands, palms open. “I’m not trying to exploit anyone. I’m trying to uncover the truth. This is bigger than one scandal or one tragedy.”
Evander turned to her then, his expression softening only slightly. “Lord Luca recently purchasedThe London Gazette.”
Olivia nodded slowly.
“I did,” Lord Luca added, his tone earnest. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here. I truly believe there’s a pattern—one that might place others at risk. I’m trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” Evander snapped. “And I certainly don’t wantit. Now, if you would kindly leave so my wife and I can enjoy our dinner.”
For a moment, Lord Luca looked as if he might argue, but then, just as quickly, he bowed.
“My apologies for the intrusion. Good evening.”
As the dining room doors shut behind him, Olivia turned slowly to Evander. “You were rather rude to him.”
Evander’s gaze stayed fixed on his soup. “He was the one who interrupted our dinner.”
