“Only mildly,” he murmured, watching the way her back stiffened.
He had to admire it all: her defiance, her desperate grip on control. It made the game all the more interesting. And if he wasn’t mistaken, the lady enjoyed it too, no matter how much she protested.
She then turned to him with an air of feigned innocence that nearly made him laugh outright. “So then,” she said carefully, “may I take more time to think about it?”
His dark eyes didn’t leave her face as he replied smoothly. “Of course. What sort of husband would I be if I rushed my wife into anything?”
The corners of her lips twitched in what was almost a smile though she fought to keep it subdued and hidden. But he saw the flicker of relief in her expression, the silent victory she thought she’d claimed.
She gave him a short curtsy, all too formal and entirely unnecessary. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
He inclined his head in reply, watching her turn and head toward the door. She believed she had won. That with enough cleverness and an arsenal of dress fabrics and indecision, she might slowly unravel the engagement she herself had orchestrated.
Robert almost chuckled but managed to stifle the sound. His mouth twitched as the door shut quietly behind her.
Let her stall. Let her drag her heels and try every excuse in the book. She could summon twenty gowns, a hundred designers, and he would nod and agree because none of it mattered.
He had his own plans. And erroneously, she thought she would stand in the way of them, in the way of him claiming justice. But the truth was that Evelyn Ellory was the path that would allow him to achieve exactly that.
“I spoke to the Duke yesterday,” Evelyn announced, smoothing the folds of her gown as she sank into the settee beside the parlorwindow where the sun filtered through lace curtains. “I brought up the matter of my indecision regarding wedding gowns… and he agreed.”
Cordelia’s head snapped up from the plum she had been peeling, her eyes wide with disbelief. “He agreed? Just like that?”
Hazel, who had been stitching a length of ribbon onto her glove, paused mid-thread. “You must be joking.”
“I most certainly am not,” Evelyn replied, lifting her chin with a measure of pride. “He said, and I quote, ‘What sort of husband would I be if I rushed my wife into anything?’” Her voice dipped low in imitation, earning a snort from Cordelia.
“Well,” Cordelia said, tossing the plum peel into the small dish beside her, “either he is a great fool, or you are the most talented actress the ton has ever produced.”
Evelyn allowed herself a small, smug smile. “He is no fool, I think. But he believes he is humoring me.”
Hazel gave her a look of cautious admiration. “That sounds rather dangerous, Evelyn. What if he’s simply waiting you out?”
“Then he shall wait,” Evelyn said with sudden steel in her voice. “For as long as I can make him.”
“But he agreed, truly?” Hazel pressed. “He did not argue or ask why you were hesitant?”
“No. He only asked which gowns I preferred. I gave him four options. Very detailed ones.” She waved a hand. “Names, silks, threads, embroidery. I daresay he looked faintly amused by the end though he tried to conceal it.”
Cordelia clapped her hands together. “Then it’s working! You’ve bought yourself time. Now, we simply need to think of what you shall do with it and how to prolong it indefinitely.”
Suddenly, a sharp knock on the parlor door interrupted them.
Evelyn turned, her brows knitting together. “Yes?”
The door creaked open, and their aging butler stepped in, his expression composed as ever. “Pardon the interruption, Miss Ellory, but you have parcels arriving for you. Several, in fact.”
“Parcels?” Evelyn repeated, her frown deepening. She rose slowly. “That cannot be right. I haven’t ordered anything.”
Cordelia gasped. “It must be another present from him, a bribe to hasten your decision!”
The butler cleared his throat delicately. “They are… rather sizeable parcels, miss. I have invited the delivery men to bring them in directly if that is agreeable.”
Before Evelyn could protest, two footmen appeared, red-cheeked from exertion, each bearing towering stacks of elegantlywrapped boxes. They placed them with great care at the center of the room. Then, they bowed and departed without a word.
The three girls stared at the pile in speechless awe.
Cordelia blinked. “It looks like a royal dowry.”
