Page 27 of The Wrong Duke

Evan couldn’t help but smile. “You would have liked him. He certainly would have liked you.”

Miss Baker snorted. “I doubt it. Even you don’t like me.”

“Yes, but he liked everyone.”

“Oh, wow. That is so kind of you to say,” she drawled.

“Just joking,” Evan chuckled. “Well, I’m not. Not really. My brother... he was even worse than I was.”

“Meaning?”

“He was a real pain in the rear — mine especially.” He grinned to show Miss Baker that he was only mostly kidding, and she rolled her eyes in response. “The fights we used to get in to...” He clicked his tongue at the memory. “But you know how it is with siblings? Fighting one minute, making up the next.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh, I suspect that you do,” Evan said cryptically. She eyed him, and he winked. “The fighting part, I mean.”

Her face dropped. “And you’re one to talk.”

“What can I say, I miss my brother. So please, whenever you and I start going at it, think of it as an homage to him. Yes, we fight, but we make up eventually.”

“I’m still waiting for the making-up bit.”

“After this weekended, maybe.” He winked at her, and she narrowed her eyes playfully. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I don’t know why I bother...” Miss Baker muttered under her breath, loud enough so Evan would hear. This had him chuckling to himself which saw her smile, which resulted in them taking a right turn at the end of the garden rather than a left.

It didn’t sound as if Miss Baker was feigning interest or pretending to be concerned. It didn’t appear as if she was trying to trick him. Her sincerity felt real, and that, Evan was forced to admit, was a problem.

As they walked through the garden, arms still linked, there was a fight raging inside of Evan. On the one hand, he wanted to keep things civil because Miss Baker was seemingly trying her best. But on the other hand, he remembered his friend, what had happened between her and Evan, and most importantly, her father.

Maybe Miss Baker was being sincere? Maybe her desires toward his friend were honest? But he knew her father, and for that reason alone, Evan couldn’t trust her. It pained him to say so. And he hated what he was about to do to prove her lies, but in the end, he had no choice.

For his brother if nothing else...

“Speaking of my brother,” Evan began conversationally as he led Miss Baker toward the back of the garden, his eyes set on a large elm tree that hung over the back corner like an awning. “What happened to him has had quite the effect on my life. One that you might find interest in.”

“Oh?”

“That’s right,” he continued jovially. “I told you what happened with my stepmother and how her actions led to his death. But what I didn’t tell you was what I vowed because of it.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

They reached the tree, and Evan gently slipped his arm free. Then he indicated for her to sit beneath its shade, and she smiled and did just that, lifting her gown and sitting softly with Evan crouching right beside her. It might have even been romantic if not for what Evan had in mind.

“I loved my stepmother, I truly did. I loved her because she made my father happy. Of course, she was just using him — playing with him as a snake might play with a mouse before devouring it.” His tone turned dark, and a shadow fell across his face. “And her actions reminded me that regardless of how sincere a person might be, of how honest, that even the prettiest flower can still stick you with a hidden thorn you did not know was there until too late.”

Miss Baker swallowed but forced herself to keep smiling. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you —”

“I admit, Miss Baker, that you are... you are more than what I originally thought. And were the circumstances different, then perhaps I could look past what it is you’re trying to do. But I learned a long time ago not to trust people just because they have a nice smile. And you, Miss Baker, have a very nice smile indeed.”

Her face dropped as the realization struck. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s just how it is.”

“You know, you’re being ridiculous,” she huffed, temperament shifting.

“Am I? I would have thought I was being a good friend.”

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