Robert said nothing. He had already had enough, but politeness bade him stay.
“Now then,” Lord Brimwood rushed on, “about the wedding itself. We were thinking in two months with the summer only commencing. It will lend a certain… golden charm to the occasion. Very tasteful, very classic. Of course, we’ll want to keep it respectable, no unnecessary opulence. I trust you agree?”
“I do not require a spectacle,” Robert replied indifferently. “Whatever pleases Miss Ellory].”
“Yes, yes,” the man offered with a thin smile. “And she will, in time, come to see what a privilege this is. As I’ve said, Evelyn can be… particular. But with firmness and guidance, she will learn her place in a household.”
Robert’s jaw tightened slightly, but his tone remained even. “She seems intelligent enough.”
“Oh, she is,” Lord Brimwood agreed with a scoff, missing the warning in Robert’s voice.
Robert stood then, his movement graceful but deliberate. “Then I trust she’s in the best of hands.”
Lord Brimwood rose as well, all smiles and satisfied self-importance. “Indeed, indeed. You’re a man of fine judgment, Your Grace. It’s a comfort to know my daughter will be… shall we say, well-tended to.”
Robert offered only the briefest incline of his head then turned toward the door.
“Good day, Viscount,” he greeted upon departure.
A footman stood ready to escort him out, and he allowed the motion to carry him forward. As he stepped into the corridor, the air felt cleaner, as if he’d left something stagnant behind.
As Robert followed the footman through the long corridor and out the main doors of Brimwood Estate, he found himself, against better judgment, scanning the shadows, the windows, the balcony above.
But there was no sign of her. No flash of blonde curls, no sharp voice, no flushed cheeks and narrowed eyes ready to strike him with some defiant witticism.
Just silence.
He climbed into his carriage with a faint frown, one gloved hand flexing slightly on his knee. And as the door closed behind him, the thought came, unwelcome and unbidden.
She is not at all what I expected.
And he wasn’t entirely certain whether that disturbed him or intrigued him more.
Evelyn was still fuming, if only internally, when her mother appeared at the edge of the garden terrace. Her hands were folded primly before her, and there was the faintest smugness on her otherwise serene face. The golden light of the late afternoon caught in the folds of her lavender gown, lending her a saintly glow that felt entirely undeserved.
“Girls,” Lady Brimwood said, her tone far too pleasant.
Evelyn straightened, dropping her embroidery hoop into her lap, a pastime she and her friends had moved from the drawing room out into the garden. Cordelia and Hazel glanced between them with thinly veiled anticipation.
“It is done,” her mother declared with a self-satisfied smile. “The arrangements have been made. Your father and His Grace are in agreement. The Duke of Aberon will marry you, Evelyn. Congratulations, dearest.”
For a moment, Evelyn couldn’t move. Her blood surged, hot and furious, but she kept her spine straight and her expression fixed in something dangerously close to polite indifference. She had already learned, albeit painfully, that resistance only fueled the fire.
“Thank you, Mama,” she said evenly though the words tasted like ash.
Her mother beamed as though she’d just handed her a crown and not a collar. She stepped forward and gathered Evelyn into her arms without waiting for invitation. The scent of jasmine clung to her skin, familiar and cloying.
“I knew you’d come to your senses eventually,” her mother whispered, smoothing a hand over Evelyn’s hair. “He will make a fine husband. Powerful. Respected. And perhaps, in time, even kind.”
Evelyn said nothing. Her jaw was locked too tightly to allow for speech.
Her mother pulled back, cupping her cheek. “You’re doing the right thing, darling. You’ve always been so… spirited. But even spirits must anchor somewhere.”
And with that, she turned, content in the illusion of harmony, and disappeared back into the house. A brittle silence hung between the three friends until Cordelia let out a dramatic sigh and collapsed onto the bench beside Evelyn.
“Well,” she said, “this is a tragedy with remarkably good posture.”
Hazel leaned forward, watching Evelyn closely. “Are you all right?”
