Isadora steeled herself. She would not press him. She was smart enough not to push him over the limit, lest he decide to shut her out completely.
No. She would have to play the long game, so she lifted her chin and nodded, forcing composure back into her voice.
“Of course,” she said. “Another time, then.”
“I’m glad that you’ve opted not to argue.” Evan’s lips twitched. “Another time.”
Then he turned, leaving her standing alone in the study—with far too many thoughts.
She exhaled, turning away from the space where he had stood just moments before, her mind still whirling.
She had not expected him to answer her question. And yet, in the span of a few minutes, she had learned more about Evan Marwood than she had since their wedding day.
He had said it so easily—My mother was a commoner. My father was not.
As if it were a simple thing. As if it had not shaped his entire existence.
The world she had grown up in had always been clear about a man’s place. A man born outside of nobility could never truly belong.
Isadora felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest. Not pity. She doubted Evan would tolerate that. It was something else. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to shake the thought away.
This was a lesson learned. Evan Marwood did not offer things freely.
And when she pushed, he had retreated.
“Any progress is still progress,” she told herself, hoping to finish off her night at a positive note.
Slow progress—perhaps even infuriating progress—but she was only beginning to piece together the puzzle that was her husband.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
Evan looked up as she stepped inside the dining room the next morning, his expression neutral, giving nothing away from the previous night.
He had showed up to breakfast. Isadora paused briefly then nodded. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Your Grace is far too formal, darling.”
She ignored him, taking her seat as the footman poured her tea.
“I think it is perfectly appropriate,” she replied after a moment when it became clear to her that he was not going to relent as he stared at her, waiting.
“You seem troubled,” he noted, rather bluntly. “Did our dancing lesson keep you awake?”
Isadora took a sip of her tea, schooling her features into careful indifference.
“Not at all,” she said smoothly. “If anything, I slept wellsince your skills were not as bad as I had imagined. That is less work for me.”
Evan smirked. “I shall take that as a compliment.”
“Do not.” Isadora set her teacup down. “I trust your business was handled successfully last night?”
Evan paused just slightly before answering. “It was.”
She waited for him to elaborate.
He did not.Typical.
She exhaled. “Well, that is fortunate. After all, we do have a ball to attend soon, and I assume you would like to free yourself of any outside responsibilities before that happens.”
