"Lord Gareth thought his brother was going to marry me!" Evie exclaimed late the next morning at breakfast.

Her mother poured a splash of cream into her tea. "Oh, dear. Surely you didn't have your cap set for Bradbury when he visited us last month? You gave no indication that you were interested." She dipped a spoon into her teacup to stir it. "Then again, neither did I. Why would I encourage him when my own daughter has yet to be married even once?"

"Once is all I ask."

"Well? Then why didn't you encourage him when he came to Tyndall Abbey?"

Evie sighed as she idly stirred her chocolate. "I didn't think I stood a chance with him."

"Because he's a duke? But now that your brother is an earl—"

"No, that's—I mean, yes. That is why." Far better her mother should think Evie considered herself beneath the touch of a duke, than to learn the shocking truth.

Even if Bradbury offered for Evie, she could never marry him or share his bed after her first encounter with his younger brother. She learned yesterday that she had no trouble at all talking to Lord Gareth as if their first encounter had never occurred—as if yesterday really was their first ever meeting. Only when faced with the prospect of becoming a relation of his, other than his wife, did she recoil in dread.

Her mother broke into her confused reverie. "Did we not discuss this when Tabitha came to stay with us, and we thought she was the princess?"

"Oh, you mean your hope that if Ross married 'the princess' it would improve my own marriage prospects?" How could Evie ever forget that? "Well, he didn't marry a princess in the end, did he? Therefore—"

"Your prospects have still improved," her mother assured her. "Before his wedding, Ross informed me that he's arranged a very substantial dowry for you."

Evie dropped her spoon with a clatter. Her mouth fell open in readiness for some sort of exclamation, but before any word could tumble out, her mother told the hovering butler to fetch "the list" from her secretary.

"How substantial?" Evie asked. "And what list?"

"Ten thousand pounds," her mother said blithely. "More than enough to attract some eligible suitors." As if they couldn't be attracted to Evie any other way. "They're all on the list I've requested from Lumsden. I made it up myself late last night. I couldn't sleep."

Neither could Evie. She spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, wondering in vain how she was supposed to persuade her mother not to marry the Duke of Bradbury. Anyone but the Duke of Bradbury.

Oh, and his brother. Especially his brother.

"You made up a list of potential suitors for me?" Perchance, was that brother on the list? She'd soon find out.

"They were all at the wedding yesterday—well, except for one, but that's because he's still in mourning. You may even have been introduced to a few of them."

They'd all been a blur. The only one Evie remembered was Lord Gareth.

Lumsden returned to the dining room with a silver salver on which lay a single sheet of vellum. He walked slower than usual, no doubt to keep that single sheet from blowing to the floor. He lowered it next to her mother, who said, "Give it to Miss Benedict."

Lumsden crept around her to the other side of the table. Evie rolled her eyes and sprang to her feet, took two long, unladylike steps and with a stretch of her arm, snatched the vellum from the salver. She stalked over to the nearby window for better light.

"The Marquess of Saxby? I saw him there, but we were never introduced."

"Bradbury approached the marquess and offered to introduce you, but Saxby declined. Apparently, you remind him too much of his two cousins, the Jordan sisters—both of whom are recently married."

"I went to school with them," Evie muttered. "And the Earl of Whidbey? Oh, the Duke of Halstead introduced us—at the earl's request."

"There you go! If not a marchioness, you could still be a countess."

"Mother, I went to school at Miss Wolcott's with his—his mistress," Evie said. "Remember Cassandra Payne? She was thick as thieves with Whidbey's sister, in hopes of landing him, but his parents and hers had other ideas, and she ended up marrying Mr. Frey. Then, after he died, she thought to take up with Whidbey again, but he wouldn't have anything to do with her except as—well, his mistress."

"How do you know all of that?" her mother demanded sharply. "A young lady, even one of your age, shouldn't have knowledge of something like that."

"The Duchess of Halstead told me herself when she and the duke visited us last month. She attended Miss Wolcott's, too."

"She really shouldn't be telling you such things, even if she is a duchess and you went to school with her."

"But you know about it?"

"Well, of course. Cordelia told me." Cordelia was the dowager Countess of Tyndall, Evie's aunt who was also the paternal aunt of the present Duke of Halstead. "But she also informed me that Mrs. Frey is no longer his mistress."

"Mother. I do not wish to marry a man who once kept as his mistress someone with whom I went to school." That was as bad as marrying the brother of the man who ruined you. And almost as bad as your mother wedding the brother of the man who ruined you. "For all I know, his newest mistress—for he surely must have sought a replacement—likewise comes from Miss Wolcott's." Why, oh why couldn't her mother have received an offer from Whidbey, instead? She continued perusing the list. "Viscount Ellington? He's a year older than I am and he's been widowed twice already. I have no wish to die within a year of marriage."

"You mustn't be superstitious, dear. Is the third time not always the charm?"

Evie turned to give her mother a withering look. "Do you consider Lord Milner to be the charm? Or the one before him?"

"Point taken." Her mother sipped her tea. "I'm not saying you have to marry anyone on that list, Evangeline. They're naught but possibilities to consider."

They both started at the sound of the brass knocker. Lumsden promptly excused himself to see who it was.

"A bit early for callers, but whoever it is can always leave their card," Mother remarked.

Evie resumed poring over the list. "Benjamin Wendell? Is he not already betrothed to Lady Cressida Upton? Or is it Miss Annabel Rawlinson?"

"I don't know about Lady Cressida—who, by the way, is Lord Saxby's sister—but Miss Rawlinson is recently married to Mr. Finney. I only saw Mr. Wendell at the wedding, and he didn't appear to be attached. Just dreadfully foxed. How about the Earl of Whitbourne? He's also on the list."

"I like his sister, but his grandmother frankly terrifies me."

"What?" Mother set her teacup in the saucer with a discordant clink. "That's not what you said after you attended her masquerade ball last spring. You thought she was very kind. And she is very kind, or she wouldn't have invited us. Such a pity I had that ghastly cold and couldn't attend. Say whatever you will about Lady Flora and her more recent behavior..." Mother cast her eyes up at the ceiling, where one of Flora's victims was still convalescing, "...but thanks to her, you were still able to attend."

Evie felt a cold qualm in her chest. Instead of accompanying her to Lady Whitbourne's masquerade ball, Flora took her to a different ball where people removed a great deal more than their masks at the stroke of midnight.

She went back to studying the list. "I see you've omitted Kirtland."

"Kirtland?" As if her mother had never heard of him.

"Edward Randolph, the Earl of Kirtland. Heir to the Marquess of Frampton." The marquess was a widower better suited to her mother than the Duke of Bradbury. And Evie had never encountered Kirtland at that Cyprian's ball. "Honestly, Mother. I realize it's been a few years since we've seen him, and I trust I need not remind you of the time and place, but—"

"Well, that's probably why he's not on the list. Besides, they live so far from London. They're practically on the Scottish border, you know."

"Only too well. We were visiting them when you suddenly decided to elope with Lord Milner across that same border." Their host had even offered to pursue the couple and stop the scandalous elopement, but Evie had dissuaded him. Sometimes she wondered if she'd made a mistake doing that.

"Oh dear, Evie. Don't tell me you have a tendre for Kirtland?"

"Not at all. I only find it puzzling that you didn't include him on the list, unless it's because he wasn't at the wedding." In which case, why did she not see Lord Gareth Armstrong on the list? Her heart dipped at the realization that if her mother married the Duke of Bradbury, then it would hardly do for her daughter to marry Bradbury's younger brother. She wasn't aware of any law against marrying her stepfather's brother. But Evie supposed even her mother saw fit to draw a line somewhere. She scrutinized the last name on the list. "The Earl of Kingsley?"

"Both his father and older brother passed away quite recently—and would you believe they did so not only on the same day, but possibly at the same moment, and in the same place? Kingsley Hall near Westbury in Wiltshire, near the giant white horse carved into the hillside. It's not too far from Bath. And they weren't the only ones who died that day, and in that place. Remember when Bradbury said he'd come to Derbyshire to break some sad news to Flora, but she wasn't there?"

And instead dallied with her mother and now they were betrothed. "He said Flora's sister died in a shooting accident."

"Lady Ruth Hale. The on-dit is that the old earl shot her himself, while his firstborn son and heir fell down the staircase and broke every last bone in his body, making the younger son the new Earl of Kingsley. No one is certain how it all happened or why, but I'll warrant if you were to marry young Kingsley, you might learn the truth."

Evie tilted her head to one side. "I hope you don't expect me to marry him just to glean some gossipy, morbid tidbit out of him about how or why all of those people died."

"Of course not. But now that he's recently inherited, like your brother, he'll be quite a catch come next season, when he should be out of mourning. You may have a rare opportunity to jump ahead of all the debutantes who will be coming out then."

"And how am I supposed to meet him before next season, if he's not even here in London because he's in mourning and—" She broke off as the butler returned to the dining room, looking very much as if he had something to say.

"Yes, Lumsden?" inquired Mother. "Is this about the caller? Didn't they leave a card?"

"No, my lady. He said he would wait for however long it would take."

"Take for what?"

"To see Miss Benedict."

Evie grasped the back of her chair. "Who wishes to see me?" Hope surged within her that it might be Lord Gareth Armstrong. Maybe he'd propose marriage to her as a way to keep his brother and her mother from marrying. Maybe there really was a law against marrying the brother of your daughter's husband.

"The Earl of Kingsley," the butler stated.

Hope ebbed as she whirled on her mother. "Did you plan all of this? Did you know—?"

"I'm as astonished as you are, Evie. Well, maybe not as astonished—I mean, I rather hoped you'd have a few gentlemen callers today, but I hardly expected Lord Kingsley to be the first—or should I say, I would never have imagined he would show up at the very moment we happened to be talking about him."

"I suppose you'll want to come with me to act as chaperone?"

Her mother flicked a hand. "You're five and twenty, and I do believe you'll be safe enough. I can't imagine Kingsley would try anything under our roof, and only moments after meeting you. Besides, I need to go upstairs and check on Lady Cranston, the poor dear."

"That's just it," Evie said. "I haven't been properly introduced to Lord Kingsley, the way I was to Lord Gareth yesterday."

Her mother arched a brow as she rose from her chair. "Why do you single out Lord Gareth? You were introduced to numerous gentlemen yesterday."

But the only one Evie remembered was Lord Gareth because—well, because. "Maybe because I was with him at the same moment his brother announced his betrothal to you?"

Lumsden cleared his throat. "If I may, Miss Benedict, Lord Kingsley mentioned that you might not recall the occasion on which he was first introduced to you."

She eyed him askance. "Pray, what occasion was that?"

"He did not say, and I did not ask, but he indicated it was before he inherited his title."

"The family name is Sutton," her mother chimed in helpfully.

"I honestly don't recall, but I shall see what he wants. There's surely no harm in receiving him if it's just to renew an acquaintance." And who knew? Maybe she'd take a fancy to Kingsley. Perhaps he could make her forget about the hopelessness of any kind of attachment to Lord Gareth Armstrong. And he was an earl now. Besides, wasn't she desperate to marry before her mother married again?