Page 41 of How to Win a Duke’s Heart

Still in the Drawing Room

A good dozen tick-tocks of the mantel clock later

Evan suspected what Sophronie had planned when the maid said the new duchess didn’t want anyone discussing the marriage before she arrived in the drawing room. He’d permitted his wife her revenge. God knew she’d deserved it after what Leah had done.

Without raising her voice or revealing her ire, his new wife had taken Leah down several well-deserved pegs.

“If everyone would excuse us, my wife and I would like a few moments with Miss Wesleyan.”

Alarm crinkled Leah’s features before she smoothed them into artificial composure once more. She was caught, and she well knew it.

“Of course, my dear.” Mother stood and helped her mother to her feet. “Let’s allow them a few moments’ privacy, shall we?”

Sarah kissed Sophronie’s cheek then said without making any attempt to lower her voice, “Give her hell. For all of us. It’s nae more than she deserves.”

Sophronie and Leah remained seated as the women filed from the room, and Rosalind, after a final murderous glare at Leah’s back, closed the door.

Evan took a seat beside his wife and placed his hand upon hers atop her thigh.

She stiffened slightly but didn’t object or withdraw her hand.

“You are truly wed? The vows were spoken before a cleric?” Leah asked stiffly, making no attempt to hide her dislike of Sophronie.

“We are, indisputably,” Evan said. “I’ve sworn to protect Sophronie for the rest of our lives, and that is why I’m grateful ye called today. If ye had no’, I intended to pay ye a visit in a day or two.”

“Why?” Leah asked bitterly, making no attempt to hide her profound disappointment.

Beside him, he felt Sophronie quivering with suppressed rage. He had no doubt she’d never struggled so hard to hold her tongue and perhaps refrain from ripping Leah’s hair from her intricately styled coiffeur.

“We ken what ye did at Kirnochshire Manor the day of the fair,” Evan said, studying Leah for signs of guilt.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Nostrils flaring, Leah went perfectly still and looked to the side away from them. “I have no idea what you are implying, but I take exception to your tone and insinuation.”

“Allow me to elucidate for you.” Sophronie set aside her teacup, her composure on par with Almack’s peeresses. “My father was perfectly lucid for several hours before he died. He told us you attacked him with your horse when he declined to inform you when we were sailing for America.”

Sophronie held Leah’s stare, refusing to cow under the other woman’s snooty demeanor.

Evan wanted to applaud her courage.

“Bah! Utter rubbish,” Leah said, hatred and fury dripping from each clipped syllable. “You can prove nothing.”

“Dinna be so sure,” Evan said. “The physician confirmed the cause of injury, and ye were seen.”

“What? When? By whom?” Sophronie yanked her hand free and jerked her head in his direction. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her pleading tone cleaved his heart wide open.

Evan peered into her tumultuous eyes, willing her to stay calm and listen. “I had to complete the investigation first. To have irrefutable evidence before I made such a serious accusation.”

“I don’t believe you,” Leah said, rising. “And I shan’t stay and be further insulted.”

“Ye will leave when I say ye can. Sit down,” Evan ordered, pointing to the chair. “Now.”

She would hear him out because Sophronie deserved to know the truth.

Visibly shaken, her face leached of all color, Leah sank back onto the chair.