Chapter 19
Nineteen
Mrs. Wilkes leaned in slightly, her voice lowered but still carrying an unmistakable tone of concern.
“My lady, forgive me for saying so, but... are you quite sure this is wise?” She glanced around at the elegant surroundings, her brow furrowed.
“Visiting the Duke of Colburn in his home—unannounced, no less—it might raise a few eyebrows.”
Minerva stood on the front steps of Colburn House, her gloved hands clutching the handle of her reticule tightly.
The grand mansion loomed before her, its imposing columns and elegantly carved stonework a stark reminder of the man she was about to face.
She drew in a breath, her heart pounding as she wondered, not for the first time, if coming here had been a mistake. But it was too late to turn back now.
Minerva paused, her own nerves already frayed. She knew Mrs. Hughes was only doing her duty, but the reminder of propriety was one she did not need. Still, she offered the woman a tight but reassuring smile.
“I understand your concerns, Mrs. Hughes,” she replied softly. “But this matter is... urgent. I would not be here if it were not.”
Mrs. Wilkes hesitated, her fingers still worrying the edge of her shawl. “I know you mean well, my lady, but the Duke—his reputation, as you know...”
Minerva’s expression hardened slightly, though she kept her voice calm. “I am well aware of the Duke’s reputation,” she said.
The heavy door opened, and a footman bowed, gesturing for Minerva and her chaperone, to enter.
Minerva stepped inside, surprised by the warmth of the space.
She had expected something dark and shadowy, befitting a notorious rake’s residence, but the entryway was flooded with light, the walls painted in soft, welcoming hues.
Tall windows allowed the afternoon sunlight to stream in, illuminating the marble floors and ornate furnishings.
Everything felt elegant, refined, and altogether unexpected.
The butler approached, bowing formally. “His Grace will receive you in the study,” he announced, leading the way with practiced precision. Minerva followed, her stomach twisting with nerves, while Mrs. Hughes trailed behind, her expression impassive but her eyes sharp.
The study was as inviting as the rest of the house, lined with bookshelves that seemed to invite exploration and wide windows that framed the lush gardens outside.
But Minerva hardly noticed any of it. Her attention was fixed on the man standing behind the large mahogany desk, a stack of papers scattered before him.
Evan looked up, his dark hair slightly tousled, his mouth curving into a familiar, teasing smile.
“Lady Minerva,” he drawled, moving around the desk with a kind of effortless grace that only made her heart beat faster.
“What a delightful and unexpected pleasure. Have you come to berate me again, or is this visit purely social?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, but his eyebrows drew together in curiosity.
Her resolve nearly wavered at that smile, but she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. “Your Grace,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I hope I am not intruding.”
He tilted his head, his gaze assessing. “Not at all,” he replied smoothly, though she detected a note of genuine surprise.
Evan folded his arms over his chest, his teasing smile widening as he studied Minerva.
“Don’t tell me,” he began, his voice a playful lilt, “you have finally decided that resisting my charms is a waste of energy, and you have come to surrender to my inevitable allure?”
Minerva let out a frustrated breath, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, please,” she snapped, but the light pink rising in her cheeks betrayed her irritation. “This matter concerns not you, nor your insufferable conceit..”
He straightened, one eyebrow lifting, clearly delighting in her annoyance. “Ah, but you see, every time you storm into a room looking as though you wish to throttle me, I cannot help but think you’re simply fighting your affection with all the fervor of a martyr. Am I right?”
Minerva felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, heat rising in her cheeks.
She was acutely aware of her chaperone, Mrs. Dorset, standing a few paces behind her, witnessing this entire exchange.
Mrs. Dorset’s brow was delicately arched, her lips pressed into a thin, restrained line, though her eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of judgment.
The woman had always prided herself on maintaining an air of stoic propriety, but even she couldn’t quite hide her disapproval at Evan’s flirtatious behavior.
Minerva glanced nervously at her chaperone before looking back at Evan, her voice growing more clipped. “I would appreciate it,” she said, struggling to keep her dignity intact, “if you did not make light of this in front of Mrs. Dorset. She is here to ensure my reputation remains... intact.”
Evan’s gaze flicked briefly to Mrs. Dorset, who had stiffened at the mention of her name, and he had the good grace to look slightly chastened—if only for a moment.
His teasing smile softened into something more sincere.
“My apologies, Mrs. Dorset,” he said, offering her a polite bow.
“I wouldn’t dream of compromising Lady Minerva’s honor. ”
Mrs. Dorset’s expression remained stony, but she gave a small, approving nod.
Evan turned his attention back to Minerva, his eyes holding a flicker of genuine concern. “Very well,” he said, his voice gentler. “I promise, no more nonsense. Tell me what troubles you, and I will give it the seriousness it deserves.”
Minerva’s embarrassment only deepened as she realized how vulnerable this moment made her feel, standing before Evan with her chaperone scrutinizing every word and movement.
She swallowed, gathering her courage. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice steadier now.
“This truly is a matter of great importance, and I hope you will treat it as such.”
Evan straightened, and with a slight incline of his head, he indicated that she had his full attention.
Minerva couldn’t shake the discomfort of having this conversation in front of Mrs. Dorset, but she forced herself to push past it.
There was too much at stake to let her embarrassment get the better of her now.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that did little to soothe her nerves. “Shame,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes now more serious. “Still, I am at your service. What is it you need?”
Minerva let out a breath, grateful that his teasing had subsided, even if she couldn’t quite banish the flutter in her chest at his nearness. “I need your help,” she said, her voice firm. “And I need you to understand that this is not a jest. My sister’s future may depend on it.”
Evan’s amusement vanished, replaced by a sharp, attentive look. “I see,” he said quietly, his posture shifting to something more alert, more earnest. “Then tell me everything.”
Minerva nodded, her fingers loosening around her reticule as she took a calming breath, feeling a bit steadier now that he was taking her seriously. This was no time for games—and thankfully, Evan seemed to realize that as well.
Minerva’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers tightening around her reticule. “Hardly,” she shot back, annoyed at how easily he could make her feel defensive. “I have come to seek... counsel.”
Evan’s eyebrow arched, his interest deepening.
“Counsel?” he echoed, as though the word was entirely foreign coming from her.
“Now that sounds serious.” He leaned against the edge of the desk, still the picture of a charming rogue but with a hint of something else—curiosity, maybe, or concern.
“What sort of trouble has found you this time?”
Minerva bristled at his casual tone, but the worry she carried for her sister outweighed her irritation. She drew in a breath, willing herself to focus. “It is not me who is in trouble,” she admitted, her voice softening. “It is my sister, Chastity.”
The humor in Evan’s expression faltered, and for a split second, Minerva thought she saw a genuine flicker of concern.
But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual grin.
“Ah, the infamous younger sister,” he said lightly.
“What mischief has she gotten herself into? Run off with a circus troupe? Eloped with a footman?”
Minerva’s temper flared, her frustration spilling over. “This is not a joke,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing. “She is heartbroken, and she blames me.”
Evan’s smile faded, and Minerva felt a pang of confusion at the way his eyes softened, almost imperceptibly. But he masked it well, straightening and giving her a casual shrug. “Heartbroken?” he repeated, his voice still playful but less mocking. “That sounds dreadfully dramatic.”
Minerva’s shoulders slumped, and she looked away, feeling guilty.
“I tried to protect her,” she said, her voice cracking. “I believed my actions were just, yet I fear I have wrought naught but further complications.”
Silence fell between them, and Minerva risked a glance at Evan. He was studying her, his gaze sharp yet unexpectedly gentle. She hated how vulnerable she felt, standing there under his scrutiny, but she could not deny the relief that flooded her at the hint of understanding she saw in his eyes.
He sighed, a sound that held more weight than she had expected. “To protect her, you say?” he murmured, his tone softer now. “It is, indeed, an act most becoming of you.”
Minerva’s head jerked up, startled by the sincerity in his voice. But before she could question it, he gave her one of his infuriating smirks, leaning back as if to put distance between them. “But I must say, I never imagined you would come to me for advice. I am honored, truly.”