“Besides, it still does not make much sense to me. Isadora Morton sought you out, you say?”
Evan nodded.
“And why, exactly, did she do such a thing?” Ambrose inquired. “Was she under some kind of obligation?”
“Flattering that this is the only circumstance in which you can see our marriage being possible,” Evan shot back.
“I am only joking,” Ambrose countered.
Evan mulled over his own thoughts for a moment. The whole situation would seem rather odd to a third person.
“She needed something. And I was the only man who could give it to her,” he said without giving too much away.
Ambrose exhaled a deep breath. “I don’t think I wish to know what that means.”
“Nothing scandalous, I assure you,” Evan chuckled. “Stranger things have happened in the world, surely.”
“Yes, but it does not make the situation any less baffling,” Ambrose admitted. “But I am rather curious. How?”
Ambrose paused for a moment. It was not often that the two discussed their private lives. “I only know of her through my wife, of course—who only has the highest praise for her. But I wonder what she is like with you.”
Evan hesitated, the question catching him off guard.
What was she like?
“That is quite the loaded question you have asked,” Evan admitted, but his mind was already reeling.
He thought of her sharp wit, the way she challenged him at every turn. She had managed to surprise him with that.
And then—he thought of her hands. Soft, and delicate.
A stark contrast to his own which bore the remnants of a life spent climbing, fighting, and surviving.
She was proper in all the ways that he was not.
“She is…” Evan’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening slightly.
How does one begin to describe Isadora?
Evan was not sure if he had the answer to that question yet.
Ambrose arched a brow. “What? Out with it; you have spent enough time building the anticipation.”
Evan let out a breathless chuckle. “I suppose she is surprising.”To say the least.
Ambrose smirked. “Then perhaps you have met your match.”
“One can hope,” he muttered under his breath.
“No need to be so pessimistic,” Ambrose replied immediately. “As far as matches go, you definitely could have picked worse for yourself—even though I find the union a bit odd. Tell me—does she… well, does she know?”
Evan glanced up. “Know what?” The words came out more annoyed than he had intended them to. Perhaps he had reached his limit of being questioned.
“You know what I mean. Does she know theotherside of her husband?” Ambrose’s voice was steady. “That you have dealings with men she would never dream of knowing?”
Right. That.
The God’s honest truth was that Evan tried not to spend much time pondering over that.
