Happy to be dragged from her thoughts, Evie turned to look at the lady standing behind her.
“Lady Agatha.” Evie dipped into a curtsey. This was another of Lord Hamilton’s aunts, of which there were three. It was something she could not quite reconcile with the rude lord. He had three delightful aunts, two who seemed to have soft edges and loved to gossip, and one who was forthright but equally lovely.
“Do you know my nephew well, Miss Spencer?” Lady Agatha stared hard at Evie after these words.
“I don’t, my lady.”
“Lovely boy. We, his aunts, dote on him, you know.”
Dear lord, why?
“He is exceedingly lucky to have you, I’m sure,” Evie said when nothing else came to mind. That anyone would want to dote on that man was completely beyond her.
“Excellent rider, and of course, titled and wealthy. He has all his own teeth, you know, and is admired by both men and women,” she continued.
This conversation was growing odder and odder. Evie looked at Prue, but she was chatting with two young ladies and no help at all.
“He, ah, he sounds a wonderful man.”
Lady Agatha beamed, all the wrinkles in her face flattening as she did so.
“His reputation does not portray him accurately you see, my dear. He is misjudged and is quite gentle when you get to know him.”
Her eyes found him a short distance away, leaning against a wall, looking bored with a glass in hand. He bowed his head as two young ladies scurried past sending him fearful looks. It took clenching every muscle in Evie’s body to stop from laughing hysterically.Gentle?She knew a sow that had the same meandisposition as him. Clearly, his aunt was not right in the head. She turned back to Lady Agatha.
“Do you like lavender, Miss Spencer?”
“It has a lovely aroma,” Evie said.
“Well, let me tell you about its healing properties.”
This, Evie thought, had to be the oddest conversation she’d ever had in society, but she found herself liking the woman who thought her horrid nephew was misjudged, even if she was deluded.
Chapter Three
Anthony woke tothe tap on his bedroom door after achieving about four hours of sleep, which was usual for him. He’d not slept long hours at Blackwood Hall, and that had become a habit.
“What?” he bellowed.
“You have visitors, my lord.”
“Who?”
“Your aunts, my lord,” the voice told him through the door.
Scrubbing his face, Anthony sat on the side of the bed. Only they would dare to show up at his house at such an hour. Unlike the rest of society, they did not fear him.
“Enter, Dibley, but only if you have coffee.”
The door moved and then his butler appeared with his manservant on his heels. Tall, bald, and with manners that would make any mother weep with joy, Dibley had been in Anthony’s employ for ten years.
“Are they all here?”
His butler lowered the tray he carried to the nightstand, thankfully bearing coffee, while Bernard scurried to the window to open the heavy drapes. Anthony grabbed the cup and sipped, letting the hot, black, bitter taste slide down his throat.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Did they offer any clue as to why?”
