Page 67 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
“ “I had overheard him at White’s the other day about this lady he was courting. I had no idea it was your sister.”
“What was he saying?” Chastity asked, startled by Wellford’s tone.
Wellford shook his head. “He was claiming that he had finally bested someone, and would soon be wed. I did not pay him much attention at the time, but it makes much more sense now, seeing the context.”
“Bested someone?” Chastity scoffed, shaking her head. “He’s arrogant and presumptuous. I cannot imagine Minerva marrying him.” She paused, her brow furrowing as she remembered the previous night. “I wonder who he might think he has bested.”
Wellford tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “Surely it does not matter?”
Chastity hesitated, glancing at the door as if to ensure they were still alone. “Last night,” she began slowly, “Minerva had too much to drink. She said things... things about how she feels.” Her voice softened as she added, “She cried, Wellford. She cried about how trapped she feels. And she said... she said Colburn’s name.”
Wellford’s brow arched, though his tone remained calm. “The Duke of Colburn?”
Chastity nodded, her thoughts racing. “I didn’t think much of it at first. But now, after seeing how she’s been acting lately, I think... I think she loves him.”
Wellford studied her, his expression careful. “Does she know it herself?”
“I don’t think so,” Chastity admitted. “She’s too stubborn to admit it, even to me. But I have seen the way she looks at him, the way she talks about him. And I think he cares for her too, though heaven knows he’s done a poor job of showing it.”
“Well,” Wellford said slowly, “if what you say is true, then perhaps they need a chance to realize it for themselves.”
Chastity’s jaw set with determination. “Yes. And I am going to make sure they have that chance.”
Wellford frowned, rising to his feet as she did the same. “What exactly are you planning, Chastity?”
She straightened her shoulders, her resolve firm. “I am going to visit Evan. He needs to know how Minerva feels—or at least, how I suspect she feels. If I don’t do something, Lord Gillies will force her into a marriage she doesn’t want, and Minerva will never forgive herself for not fighting for what she truly wants.”
Wellford’s frown deepened. “You cannot go alone. It would be improper.”
“Which is why you cannot come with me,” Chastity said firmly. “If anyone sees us together, it will only create more rumors. I will go alone. If I am caught, I will say I was delivering a message on Minerva’s behalf.”
Wellford shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re risking a great deal, Chastity.”
“And so is Minerva,” she shot back. “But this isn’t about me. It is about her chance at happiness.”
He hesitated, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Thank you, Wellford.”
He reached out, taking her hand briefly in his own. “Good luck, Chastity.”
She nodded, releasing his hand as she turned toward the door. Her heart raced with a mix of nerves and determination, but she knew this was something she had to do. Minerva and Evan deserved a chance at happiness, and Chastity would do whatever it took to give them that chance—even if it meant risking her own reputation.
Twenty-Eight
Evan stood in the center of the entry hall, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he surveyed the flurry of activity around him. Footmen darted back and forth, carrying trunks and crates toward the rear staircase, while maids wrapped delicate items in layers of cloth. The usual orderly hum of his townhouse had turned into a hive of urgent motion, all orchestrated under his watchful eye.
“Ensure the study is packed carefully,” he directed to the butler, Mr. Hargrove, who stood nearby with a small leather notebook in hand. “The ledgers, correspondence, and everything on my desk must arrive at the estate intact. I will not tolerate any missing documents.”
Mr. Hargrove jotted down the instruction, his expression neutral but his brow slightly furrowed. When Evan’s gaze shifted to him, the butler hesitated before speaking.
“Your Grace, if I may,” Hargrove began, his tone cautious, “this is... rather abrupt. We had anticipated departing for the countryside at the end of the season, as usual. The staff were not expecting such haste.”
Evan’s jaw tightened, and he turned away briefly, his gaze settling on the large windows that overlooked the bustling street outside. The sunlight streamed through, illuminating the faint tension in his shoulders. “Plans have changed,” he said curtly. “There’s no reason to remain in London any longer.”
Hargrove cleared his throat delicately, treading carefully. “Forgive my saying so, Your Grace, but the season is still in full swing. There are several events to which your name is attached?—”
“I am aware,” Evan interrupted, his tone clipped. “Send my apologies where necessary. Inform my friends that I have pressing estate matters to attend to. I trust you can handle the particulars.”
