Evelyn barely had time to pose herself after st night's enter with Damian when a sharp knock echoed through her chambers.

  Before she could ahe door swung open, revealing Lady Isabelle Hawthorne—her best friend and persistent sourischief.

  "Darling, do you knoeople are whispering this m?" Isabelle sauntered inside, a smirk pying at her lips. "That our dear Duke of Ashbourhe ever-distant and brooding Damian Vale, was seen lingering outside your chambers te into the night."

  Evely heat creep up her neck. "He was not—"

  "Oh, but he was," Isabelle interrupted, flopping onto the chaise lounge as if she belohere. "A me guess, you were too busy not notig the way he looks at you?"

  Evelyn turned away, suddenly very ied in adjusting the ce of her sleeve. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Isabelle gasped dramatically. "You do! Oh, this is delicious. Evelyn, tell me, has our ruthless Duke finally been tamed by a certain fire-hearted dy?"

  Evelyn picked up a cushion and threw it at her. "You are insufferable."

  "And you, my dear, are falling." Isabelle caught the cushion effortlessly, her grin widening. "Tell me, did he kiss you senseless yet, or is he still pretending he's not pletely smitten?"

  Evelyn's silence was all the answer Isabelle needed.