Chapter 4
Four
The entire room shifted the moment Evander’s offer settled over it, a hush falling where moments before there had been murmured competition. Walter Bennet turned toward him with unmistakable interest, his entire demeanor altering as though fortune itself had just entered the room.
There was no hesitation, no pretense of deliberation, only swift calculation and satisfaction. Evander watched it with a cold, contained anger, already certain of the man he stood before.
Walter stepped forward at once, a smile spreading across his face.
“My Lord,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “An impressive offer.”
Evander took it briefly, his grip firm but unwelcoming. “Evander Rivers, Duke of Rainfield,” he said, his tone clipped and formal.
Walter inclined his head. “Of course, Your Grace. We have not had the pleasure of meeting before.”
Evander’s jaw clenched slightly. “A regrettable oversight,” he replied, though there was no warmth in the words.
Walter seemed not to notice or chose not to. “Well, we are acquainted now and most advantageously so,” he replied. “I formally accept your offer.”
The words landed like a transaction being sealed.
Evander held his gaze, resisting the urge to look toward Grace just yet. “Then we shall proceed,” he said evenly.
Walter nodded eagerly. “Indeed and without delay. If it suits you, we might arrange the wedding for tomorrow.”
Evander’s teeth clenched, though his expression remained composed. “No,” he said, more sharply than intended. He forced his tone back under control. “We shall do this properly. An engagement party in a few days’ time, followed by a wedding. Lady Grace deserves such formalities… and respect.”
Walter waved a hand as though the distinction mattered little.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” he agreed. “I assure you, you will not regret this arrangement.” His eyes flicked toward Grace then, sweeping over her in a manner that made something in Evander’s fist tighten.
“My daughter is… most suitable as you can see yourself.”
Evander’s patience snapped, though his voice remained dangerously calm. “I did not bid that much to hear your commentary,” he said flatly.
Walter blinked, momentarily taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “Of course,” he said lightly. “No offense intended.”
Evander did not respond.
Instead, he turned away mid-conversation, cutting Walter off without ceremony, and he walked directly toward Grace.
She had not moved far from where she had been placed, though her posture had regained its rigid composure.
As he approached, her eyes met his with a sharp, defiant clarity that unsettled him more than her earlier stillness had.
She inclined her head slightly. “Your Grace,” she said coolly, “congratulations on your purchase.”
The words struck harder than he expected.
For a moment, the entire room faded again, leaving only her and the quiet challenge in her gaze.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth despite himself. “I had hoped for a more gracious reception,” he replied, “though I suppose I should not be surprised.”
Grace’s expression did not soften. “You have purchased exactly what was presented to you,” she said. “I see no reason to embellish the reality of it.”
Evander studied her, something sharper flickering behind his eyes. “Then give me your honest opinion,” he said.
She did not hesitate. “It is abhorrent,” she replied. “To be paraded before a room of men like livestock and claimed by the highest bidder.” Her voice remained steady, though the force behind it was unmistakable.
Evander nodded once, as though accepting a fact rather than an accusation. “Good,” he said. “Honesty will serve us well.”
Grace frowned slightly. “Us?” she echoed.
“Yes,” he assured. “If we are to endure this arrangement, we may as well do so with clarity. We shall make a good team if we remain honest with one another.”
Grace let out a soft, disbelieving breath. “You assume a great deal,” she said.
“And in the spirit of that honesty,” he continued, as though she had not spoken, “you should be grateful it was me.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew they had landed poorly. Grace’s expression sharpened instantly.
“Grateful?” she repeated, her voice dangerously quiet. “You believe I should feel gratitude for being bought?”
Evander held her gaze, unwilling to retreat. “You saw the alternatives,” he pointed out. “I spared you worse.”
Before she could respond, a familiar voice drifted past them. “How fortunate indeed,” Lord Ternor drawled, pausing just long enough to smirk. “Though I cannot say I envy you, Your Grace.”
Evander turned on him with cold precision. “Then do not concern yourself with it,” he said flatly. “You have already demonstrated a remarkable lack of worth in all other matters.”
Ternor’s smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. “Careful,” he said. “You may find your prize more troublesome than you expect.”
“I rather think I already have,” Evander replied.
Ternor gave a short laugh and moved on, though the tension lingered.
Grace turned back to Evander, her eyes blazing now. “You must be exceedingly full of yourself,” she said, “if you believe I shall ever feel anything resembling gratitude toward you.”
“Then direct that sentiment where it belongs,” he suggested, “at the man who placed you for sale.”
The effect was immediate.
Grace stilled, the fire in her expression flickering into something far more fragile, far more guarded. For a moment, she said nothing at all, and Evander felt the weight of what he had struck. He had seen that look before, on his son, on himself, in the quiet aftermath of loss.
He exhaled slowly.
“This is not a conversation we will benefit from continuing,” he said at last, his tone cooler now, more controlled.
Grace’s chin lifted slightly, though her eyes remained distant. “On that, we are in agreement,” she replied.
Evander inclined his head. “Then we shall speak no more of it,” he said. “I will see you at the engagement party.”
Grace’s lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in them. “We shall see about that,” she replied.
Before he could respond, she turned and walked away, her composure flawless once more.
Evander remained where he stood, watching her disappear.
His mind was no longer on the room, nor the men within it, nor even the deal he had just struck. Instead, it lingered on her, on the fire she had not bothered to hide, on the defiance that refused to be bought, no matter the price.
Evander stood for a moment longer, the echo of her words still striking against his composure.
Rash—the decision had been entirely rash, born of impulse rather than calculation.
Yet even as he acknowledged it, he could not bring himself to regret it fully. There had been something in her, something unyielding and alive, that had compelled him forward before reason could intervene.
He turned at last and made his way back to the table where Colin remained seated, his expression a mixture of disbelief and poorly concealed amusement.
The murmurs in the room followed Evander like a shadow, though he paid them no mind.
He took his seat with deliberate calm, reaching for his glass as though nothing of consequence had occurred. Colin leaned forward at once.
“Have you quite lost your mind?” Colin asked, his voice low but urgent.
Evander took a measured sip of brandy before answering. “Not entirely,” he said.
Colin stared at him. “You just purchased a wife in a room full of vultures and expect me to believe that was a sound decision?”
Evander exhaled slowly, setting the glass down. “I did what was necessary,” he explained.
Colin gave a sharp laugh. “Necessary?” he echoed. “For whom?”
“For my son,” Evander replied without hesitation. The words came easily, though something within him shifted at their simplicity. “Benjamin needs a mother,” he added.
Colin’s expression softened slightly, though his skepticism remained.
“And you believe Lady Grace is the solution?” Colin asked.
Evander’s gaze flickered briefly toward where she had been.
“She will be adequate. She is not young and naive like other eligible ladies. She is fully grown with a hardy mind and intelligence. She has run the events at her own father’s household and has demonstrated some skill in that as well,” he observed, though the words felt insufficient even to his own ears.
Colin leaned back, folding his arms. “Adequate,” he repeated, unconvinced.
“It is not merely that,” Evander admitted after a moment.
Colin’s brow lifted. “Ah,” he said. “Now, we approach honesty.”
Evander’s gaze darkened slightly. “She did not deserve that,” he explained. “To be displayed, judged, bartered over like an object.”
Colin studied him carefully. “So, you played the hero,” he concluded.
Evander shook his head once. “No,” he argued. “I ended it.”
Yet even as he spoke, he knew there had been more to it than that—something instinctive, something immediate, something he did not want to admit to himself.
“There’s time to undo it,” Colin suggested. “Rescind the offer before it is too late.”
Evander’s expression hardened instantly. “I will do no such thing.”
Colin frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I gave my word,” Evander said simply. “And I will not retract it. I would not subject Lady Grace to such scandal, more that this entire spectacle has already done.”
The finality in his tone left little room for argument. Colin sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “You have tied yourself to a stranger out of principle,” he observed.
Evander’s gaze remained steady. “Then I shall learn who she is,” he replied.
Colin shook his head slowly. “You could have chosen any number of respectable arrangements, any number of suitable matches,” he said. “Instead, you chose a stranger.”
Evander allowed a faint, humorless smile. “How well do we really know the women we marry. I certainly did not know my last very well,” he observed quietly.