“Academic or romantic?”
He sighed, looking down at the table. “I should find a match for you soon. I have been remiss.”
“Father, where is this coming from?” she asked, looking closer at him. “You know that I am happy with my life as it is.”
“I know, but someday…” He looked away from her. “This matters. That is all. We’ll fix this, Evelyn, somehow. I promise.”
She took a breath as she pushed away her plate, no longer hungry. She had done nothing wrong. So why did it feel like she had?
The next weekpassed in a blur of escalating rumors and Asher’s own angry frustration.
First there came the newspaper articles, detailing his private conversations with Lady Evelyn, at the Spring Soiree and beyond. His interest in the diamond. His interest in scholarly bluestockings. If Lady Evelyn hadn’t outlined all the reasons scandal would be harmful for her own family’s reputation, he almost would have suggested that she had been the one to start the rumors, for who else could possibly benefit?
He heard the comments at his club about his choice in scholars, the whispered laughter from a passing carriage, the newspaper columns with not-so-veiled references.
What made it all the worse was that he secretly longed to know more about the one woman who refused to be intimidated by him and also didn’t seem to have any interest in him. He couldn’t think of another lady in London who fit that description.
But to spend any time with Evelyn would only feed the gossip columns, so he kept his distance, hoping it would all subside.
It seemed, however, that even if he wasn’t feeding the fire, someone was, for it was only getting worse, the gossip on everyone’s tongue.
When he received a note one morning, he knew he had no choice but to address it.
Your grace,
Your choice of inaction does not seem to be making any progress but rather is sinking us deeper into suspicions. My voucher has been refused by the Almack’s patroness, and my father is being questioned in his academic societies. I find I am no longer welcomed in lecture halls as I once was.
I would suggest we meet to determine a path forward. If you would like to keep it private, then perhaps we could return to our previous meeting place — the third chamber of the British Institution? I can be found there nearly every morning at 10 o’clock.
Lady Evelyn Stratford
Asher frowned at the note.
He hated that it had come to this.
But even more, he was worried about how much he was looking forward to seeing her again.
The British Institutionhad always been Evelyn’s safe space.
But today, she stepped through the front doors more nervous than she had ever been.
She strode across the foyer and was almost through when a voice called to her, “Lady Evelyn?”
“Yes?” she said, finding the Institution’s keeper striding toward her.
“You forgot the clue,” he said, looking at her quizzically.
“Of course,” she said, realizing that it did look rather strange for her not to stop, when she had nearly every morning for the past few months, ever since they had returned to London. “I was so eager I rushed right by.”
She read the day’s clue, registering it, but her mind was too preoccupied to solve it as of yet. She would do that later, after she spoke with the duke.
She greeted the few people within as she made her way to the third chamber, finding the duke pacing, hands clasped behind his back. When she entered, he immediately turned toward the door, as if he had been waiting for her.
For a moment, she forgot why they were here, what had drawn them together, and appreciated the breadth of his profile, the power with which he held himself, drawing her in.
An attraction he had to shake off, especially when he turned around and caught her staring at him, those brilliant blue eyes focusing on her.
“There you are,” he said, his mouth in a grim line.
