SHE PRETENDED TO BE A “BOY” FOR 7 MONTHS TO AVOID AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE—UNTIL THE DUKE FOUND OUT…

Chapter 6

Lady Evangeline Cross descended from her carriage on a cold afternoon in February, and the whole house seemed to hold its breath.

She wore emerald silk that defied the winter, cut to show the line of her throat and the pale marble of her shoulders, with a fur mantle that must have cost more than a stable hand earned in ten years. Her hair was the color of dark honey, swept up and pinned with combs of green glass, and she moved down the carriage step the way a cat moves off a windowsill — effortlessly, and with the sense that she had calculated the landing long before anyone thought to look.

She was beautiful the way a blade is beautiful.

The house buzzed. Josephine heard it from every corner. The Duke’s potential bride. The alliance that would join two of the wealthiest families in the north. The woman who might finally thaw Raymond Hawthorne’s frozen heart.

Good luck to her, Edith muttered in the servants’ hall, and would not elaborate.

Josephine watched from the servants’ corridor as Evangeline moved through the entry hall, cataloging everything with quick flickering glances — the paintings, the marble, the quality of the carpet beneath her heel. This was a woman who knew precisely what she was worth and expected the world to agree without argument.

She is magnificent, Millie whispered as they carried linens through the upstairs corridor. Can you imagine being married to the Duke? All this wealth. All this power.

She’s welcome to it, Edith said. I wouldn’t share a bed with that man if you paid me. Cold as winter, he is.

Josephine said nothing. But something twisted in her chest — something she had no right to feel, because the Duke was nothing to her. Could be nothing to her. And yet.

That evening she was tending the fire in the library when the door opened behind her.

Evangeline entered in a different gown now, pale blue silk that whispered across the floor, and her perfume arrived before she did — expensive and heavy, something with roses at the bottom of it. Josephine kept her head down and focused on the fire.

“You there. Boy.”

She straightened slowly. “Yes, my lady.”

Evangeline studied her with eyes that missed nothing at all. “What is your name?”

“Joseph, my lady.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Four months, my lady.”

“And you work closely with His Grace.”

“I tend his chambers and assist with household duties, my lady.”

Evangeline moved closer, circling her the way a cat circles a mouse that has not yet learned it is a mouse. “You are quite young. And rather delicate, for a stable boy.”

Josephine’s stomach clenched. “I am strong enough for my work, my lady.”

“Are you?”

Before Josephine could move, Evangeline reached out and took her hand — turned it over, examined the palm with the dispassionate interest of a jeweler appraising a stone. “Your hands are rough. But your fingers are long. Almost elegant.” She released the hand and stepped back, a small smile playing at her lips. “How curious.”

Josephine said nothing.

“Tell me, Joseph. Does His Grace treat you well?”

“Yes, my lady. Very well.”

“Does he speak to you often?”

“Only when necessary, my lady.”

“How fortunate for you, then, that he finds you necessary.”

There was something in her tone — something fine and sharp as a needle — that made Josephine’s skin prickle with warning. “Will that be all, my lady?”

“For now.” Evangeline settled into a chair and arranged her skirts with practiced grace. “You may go, Joseph. But I suspect we will speak again soon.”

Josephine fled the library with Evangeline’s knowing smile burning behind her eyes.

Dinner that night was a formal affair.

Josephine was assigned to assist the footman — carrying dishes from the kitchen, pouring wine, clearing plates between courses — and she moved through the dining room like a ghost, eyes down, silent, present only as a pair of hands.

But she could feel Evangeline watching her.

The Duke sat at the head of the table with an expression of complete neutrality while Evangeline poured stories of London society across the white cloth. She laughed at her own jokes. She smiled at the right moments. She deployed every weapon in the arsenal of charm, and Raymond Hawthorne sat through all of it like a man listening to the weather report.

“You are very quiet tonight, Your Grace,” Evangeline observed, her tone light but probing.

“I am often quiet, Lady Evangeline.”

“True. But I had hoped my presence might inspire something more engaging.”

“I am not given to idle conversation.”

“Clearly.” She took a sip of wine, eyes glittering over the rim of the glass. “Tell me, do you find satisfaction in your current household arrangements?”

“I find them adequate.”

“Only adequate? You have such wealth. Such power. Surely you could surround yourself with more refined company.”

“I prefer competence to refinement.”

“How very practical of you.”

Evangeline’s gaze slid across the room and landed on Josephine, who was refilling water glasses. “Your servants are certainly competent. Especially that young boy. Joseph, was it? He seems quite devoted to his duties.”

The Duke’s eyes flickered to Josephine — just for a moment, just one glance — and she felt it like a brand pressed to her skin.

“Joseph performs his work satisfactorily,” Raymond said.

“But he is rather unusual, is he not? For a stable boy, there is something almost refined about him.”

“I do not analyze the breeding of servants, Lady Evangeline.”

“Of course not. How foolish of me.”

Her smile suggested she had made her point perfectly well. The meal continued. Josephine completed her duties and escaped to the servants’ hall with her hands shaking as she untied her apron.

Edith appeared at her elbow.

“That Lady Evangeline has sharp eyes,” Edith said. “I don’t trust her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she looks at people like she’s searching for their secrets. And God help you if she finds them.” Edith squeezed Josephine’s shoulder — an uncharacteristic gesture from a woman who did not waste tenderness. “Be careful, Joseph. Stay out of her way if you can.”

Josephine nodded, throat tight.

But staying out of Evangeline’s way was already impossible.

Because the lady had decided Josephine was worth watching — and a woman like that did not stop watching until she had found whatever she was looking for.