“I believe we are done here.”
And with that, she spun on her heel to leave, but Isadora barely made it three steps before Evan’s voice stopped her.
“One more thing, sweetheart.”
Does he really need to call me that every time?
Her back stiffened at the infuriating endearment, but she turned, glaring at him. “What now?”
“The only thing I do not need from this marriage,” he said smoothly, “is an heir.”
She stared at him.
The words should not have surprised her—this was not a real marriage after all—and yet, hearing them spoken so plainly left her…
She did not know what.
It was not that she had expected children, of course. But wasn’t that what marriage was? Even arranged ones? She should not care.
Evan took his moment to stand up, making his way around the desk toward her.
Her instinct was to step back. But instead, she remained rooted to the spot as he closed the distance between them. He stopped only a breath away, towering over her once more, his dark eyes flicking over her face.
Then, his lips curved.
“Disappointed?”
Her entire body burned. Was it with rage or something else entirely… she did not know.
“Rein it in, Your Grace.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be. Not Evan, not husband, not even the occasional sweetheart? Just ‘Your Grace’?”
“I should think so, given that you are already abusing the liberties of our arrangement.” She tried to avert her gaze.
“Taking liberties?” He had the audacity to say as he stoodthatclose to her.
“Quite,” she said stiffly. “And since you are so insistent that this marriage remain nothing more than a business arrangement, I suggest you start behaving as such.”
He hummed. “And how, exactly, does a duke behave?”
“You need lessons,” she said flatly. “And they will start soon.”
Evan chuckled at that—perhaps realizing that he was not the only one with audacity.
She turned on her heel before she did something regrettable—or worse, let him see that the heat rising in her face had spread from her neck to her ears.
As she reached the door, she heard him call after her.
“I look forward to it, sweetheart.”
She slammed the door behind her.
It was still early when Isadora made her way downstairs the next morning.
She had slept little the night before. Though ‘slept’ was perhaps too generous a word. She had laid awake, her mind racing with the weight of what she had agreed to—a marriage that was nothing more than a transaction—a role she had spent years preparing for but never in this manner.
But if nothing else, she could take control of her duties.
