“You’re being ridiculous again,” Evan said as he instinctively stopped.
“Ridiculous?” Ambrose gestured toward a nearby storefront. “You have just stopped in front of a dress shop.”
Evan blinked, only now realizing that his feet had, in fact, come to a halt before an elegant window display.
It had caught his attention without his intention—a deep emerald, made out of what looked like the finest-quality silk.
It was a color he had never seen Isadora wear.
“Is this anotherbusinessopportunity, or are you in need of a new gown?” Ambrose remarked teasingly.
“Shut up.” Evan scoffed.
“You are going to buy it for her, aren’t you?” Ambrose grinned.
Was he?Before he could think better of it, he turned and strode inside.
Ambrose chuckled, following him in.
The shopkeeper, an older woman, immediately brightened at the sight of them.
“Your Grace,” she greeted smoothly, dipping into a curtsy. “How may I assist you?”
Evan gestured toward the window. “That gown. I want it.”
“Of course. I can arrange it for you,” She blinked, “For—for your wife, I assume?”
“Unless you think it would suit me better?” Evan arched a brow.
Ambrose snickered behind him.
The shopkeeper recovered quickly, nodding. “Of course, Your Grace. I can have it delivered by tomorrow. I believe I have the Duchess’ measurements already.”
“Fine.”
Ambrose watched in amusement as Evan signed the ledger, sealing the purchase.
The moment they stepped back onto the street, he let out a low whistle.
“Well, well. A man who has never given a woman so much as a single flower has now purchased a gown for his wife.”
“It was an impulse purchase.” Evan exhaled, running a hand against his jaw. “Consider it a celebration for closing the deal.”
“Ah,” Ambrose said, grinning. “Animpulse. Of course.”
Evan shot him a warning look, but Ambrose merely shook his head in mock sympathy.
“It is happening, my friend.”
“What ishappening?” Evan couldn’t help but frown.
“As an outside observer, it’s quite clear to me now, really,” Ambrose smirked. “You are falling into the marital trap.”
“Here you go again with these theories of yours.”
“You know, it is rather amusing,” he mused. “I have known you for years, and I have never seen you act without reason. You calculate everything. And yet,” he gestured toward the shop, “you did not even hesitate.”
“It is just a dress, Ambrose.” Evan rolled his shoulders, unconcernedly.
