Ada Hunt, the Viscountess Warfield, was the club’s bookkeeper. They’d met while Evie had left London to reinvent herself as a widow. Ada had been in need of a new beginning, and she was exceptionally clever. So clever that Lucien had sent her to help organize his friend’s estate. Injured in the war in Spain, Warfield had been in a bad place and in need of assistance. He hadn’t wanted it, but then he’d fallen in love with Ada. They’d wed this past summer, but Ada had retained her position. They lived about a day’s ride from London, so she came to town often. They would come for the Season since Max, her husband, sat in the House of Lords.

“She wrote to me with updates,” Evie said.

Lucien deposited himself in a chair next to Evie’s desk, stretching his legs out. “Of course she did. How is Heloise and her family?”

Lucien was one of very few people who knew of their true relationship. “Very pleasant, thank you. Henry is getting so big. How was your holiday?”

“Happily focused on the new heir. My father absolutely doted on baby Robbie.” Lucien spoke of his nephew who’d been born in late November. The only letter he’d sent to Evie had been about that. Lucien was a terrible correspondent. “I am quite relieved to no longer be the spare.”

“I can well imagine.” Nothing would have horrified Lucien more than to inherit his father’s dukedom. Because nothing would have horrified his father more. Lucien’s older brother, Constantine, was the favorite son and now that he and his wife finally had an heir, he was likely even more beloved. “Did His Grace actually dote?”

“I know it’s difficult to conceive.” A pained expression flashed over Lucien’s face. “It was almost revolting.”

“I’m glad for Con and for his son.” She knew that Lucien was only revolted because that kind of behavior from his father was foreign to him. And it hurt. Not that Lucien would characterize it like that. He buried his pain so deeply that Evie sometimes wondered if he even remembered it was there.

“I’m surprised you’re back this soon.”

“You knew I’d be here for the Epiphany party.”

“Which isn’t until next week,” he said, fixing her with a probing stare. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I just missed being in town.” She wasn’t going to tell him about her affair with Gregory. Never mind that he occupied many of her thoughts, mostly when he would arrive in London. She also couldn’t stop thinking of Ash. The drawing of him was a poor substitute. “There was one thing.”

One of his dark brows arched, and he drew his legs up, sitting straight and angling his body toward her. “Oh?”