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“If it is too much, we may—”
“It is not,” she replied quickly, holding my hand. “It is not too much for me. Nevertheless, at this moment, I wished to breathe and reflect. Do not think I am unhappy, for I am greatly pleased with Everely and you—though you try me. Especially when you cannot control your anger and fight within the magistrate’s office, leaving everyone with enough gossip for the next few days if not weeks.”
I sheepishly smiled. I was a duke. I ought to have been better. My smile faded the more I thought of it. “Forgive me. I lose myself when I see Datura or Fitzwilliam, which is strange because I quite like my youngest brother.”
“Gabrien, right?”
I nodded. “Yes. He avoids conflict like the plague and comes here only when he must. Even now he is seeking to go on tour after he finishes at Eton.”
“I am glad you at least have one brother you like,” she said, glancing up at the stars. “I am trying to think of a way this can end with Fitzwilliam, but I see no solutions, only more conflict. And the more conflict, the worse your name will be attacked.”
“And the worse my name, the worse yours?”
“It is our name.”
“Very true.”
“I have come up with one possibility,” she said as she handed me her port. If she was giving me a drink, I was most likely going to need it.
“What is it?”
“A ball.”
I chuckled. “A ball?”
“Yes. Currently, everyone is no doubt talking of you attacking a member of society like a madman—”
“He attacked me as well.”
“He is not a duke. Your actions are automatically judged more harshly because you are supposed to be better.”
“I feel as though I am being lectured.”
“You are, but you sought me out, remember?”
“So, had I not come, you would not have said anything?”
“I would have told you we were having a ball but not the reason why,” she replied. She took the bottle of port from me and drank straight from it, which was quite a sight. “I am a bit foxed now, so I shall simply admit it.”
I grinned. “Very well, to your ball then.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Topwells must be invited.”
“Aphrodite! I do not want him here.”
“We will have the festivities outside and men throughout the house to keep watch.”
“It is not the point. Everely—”
“Is yours,” she said sternly. “And he is in the wrong, but he is also being welcomed into the gentry by others. Should you keep him away, it will cast you in a bad light. His wife believes you to be the villain. Half the town believes you are getting vengeance on behalf of your mother, and that is why you keep Datura at bay—truth or not. We must be seen as better, not worse than they are.”
How did she gather so much information so quickly? Her plotting seemed a greater skill than her beauty, whether or not she knew it. Still, I never wanted that man or his mother here.
“Evander, I know how this pains you. But I seek to repair the reputation of Everely because I cannot bear to see you branded as cruel. You have suffered and yet it is you who is blamed. It is unfair. So please allow me to do what I can.” She nearly begged.
And just like that, I was powerless to deny her.
It was not fair to make a mortal man fight against a goddess.
