“I cannot argue with that.” Evan flashed a bright smile. “And what flattering remarks has my wife made about me… if you do not mind me probing?”
Isadora narrowed her eyes at Daphne, warning her not to reveal anything. “Nothing of consequence.”
“Oh? A shame.” Isadora couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, or he was genuinely disappointed.
Nicholas chuckled as he joined them. “It is rare to see a marriage as new as yours without at least a little intrigue.”
“Oh, there is intrigue,” Daphne said lightly. “I am sure of it.”
“If there is, Marwood is keeping it to himself,” Ambrose spoke next.
“Evan never tells anyone anything. It is a rather frustrating habit,” Isadora admitted, wondering if his friends could clue her into something about him.
“Yes, that sounds rather like Evan,” Nicholas agreed. “A man of mystery, as they say.”
“Oh please. I have always found the word mysterious too dramatic,” Evan’s gaze flickered toward her, his smirk deepening. “I am full of surprises, that is all.”
“It is truly spectacular to see how fate unfolds its plan,” Daphne leaned in, eyes alight with mischief. “Here I thought you made a vow never to fall for surprises, Isadora.”
Isadora stiffened, and the words caught Evan’s attention immediately.
Oh no, no.Daphne had said a bit too much. She had not told Evan about the vow—and nor did she particularly intend to do so.
“Is that the case?” Evan turned to her now. “A vow?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Isadora dismissed quickly. “Daphne just likes to tease me, as you know.”
Evan did not seem convinced, but he let the subject drop for the time being.
Her friends all exchanged knowing glances. Nicholas came to their rescue then as he changed the subject, steering them into safer territory.
The conversation continued for some time, the group falling into comfortable banter.
It was a new dynamic for Isadora. Before, she had only interacted with her friends’ husbands, but now, she joined the conversation as a married woman herself.
She thought that Evan had been occupied in conversation with the other men. At least that was how it seemed on the surface. But all it took was the music to shift for him to direct his attention back to Isadora again.
It was the first waltz of the evening.
“Shall we dance, Duchess?” he asked her without pause.
Isadora hesitated for only a moment—just long enough to be annoyed at herself for doing so. She could feel her friends watching, waiting for her response, and somehow that made it worse.
“I… yes.” She forced herself to ignore the way her stomach twisted and placed her hand in his.
His fingers curled around hers, warm. And as he led her onto the floor, Isadora realized one very unfortunate truth.
She was blushing.
It should have felt ordinary, just another dance on another evening.
But it didn’t.
Isadora forced herself to focus on the steps, to ignore the warmth of his hand on her back, the way he held her just close enough to remind her that he was there—that he was guiding her—yet still far enough away to give the illusion of propriety.
“Good thing we had some practice,” he teased as they danced together.
“Ah, yes,” Isadora replied, flustered. “We would not want anyone to be stepping over anyone’s feet.”
