Evelyn exhaled slowly, the air burning on its way out. “I am,” she said. Then, more quietly, “Because I’ve decided I shall be.”
She sat back in her chair, lifted the embroidery hoop again, and stabbed the needle through the fabric with admirable precision.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy for him.”
Cordelia grinned. “I should hope not.”
Hazel leaned closer. “You still want our help?”
Evelyn’s mouth curved into something sly. Almost regal. Almost… wicked.
“Now more than ever.”
Evelyn twisted the embroidery thread around her finger, eyes narrowing in thought. “First,” she said slowly, “I need time. Time to think. Time to… plan.”
Cordelia perked up. “You mean delay the wedding?”
Hazel tilted her head. “But how? Your mother looked ready to summon the church bells herself.”
Evelyn pursed her lips as her gaze fixed on a budding rose nearby. “I shall make it appear as though I cannot, absolutelycannot,settle on the right gown.”
Cordelia blinked. “Your gown?”
“Yes,” Evelyn said, sitting up straighter, her mind beginning to race. “I will insist I want to look my absolute best. That no fabric feels quite right, no shade of ivory matches my complexion, no lace delicate enough to please me. I shall try on a hundred and still not be certain.”
Hazel’s brow furrowed then lifted. “That… might actually work.”
Cordelia let out a short, delighted laugh. “It’s perfect. Everyone knows the importance of a bride’s gown. No one can fault you for being… discerning.”
Evelyn allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. “Exactly. And while I parade through bolts of tulle and endless fittings, I’ll have time to devise something better. Something that might give me a way out entirely.”
Cordelia leaned forward with conspiratorial glee. “Something scandalous?”
Evelyn shrugged, her expression unbothered, even amused. “Perhaps. Or something clever. Either will do.”
Hazel looked from one friend to the other, worry still faint on her brow but now, edged with admiration. “You really don’t want to marry him.”
Evelyn’s smile faltered, albeit just slightly. “It’s not about wanting. It’s about choice. I will not be bound to a man simply because society deems it convenient or because he finds it amusing to corner me in ballrooms and issue commands as if I were a servant to his will.”
Cordelia’s eyes sparkled. “Then we shall find you the ugliest lace in London.”
Evelyn laughed. This time, it was a real laugh, short and sharp. And then, she leaned back in her chair. “You are both terrible influences.”
“And proud of it,” Hazel agreed, finally grinning.
As they resumed their tea, the breeze lifting the edges of their skirts and laughter trickling into the flowerbeds, Evelyn allowed herself a moment of lightness. She had bought herself time. And with time, came strategy. And with strategy… victory.
She would not lose her freedom without a war.
Chapter Six
Robert sat behind his writing table with a quill pen in his hand, signing off some documents. The scratching of the quill stilled when a firm knock interrupted the quiet. A moment later, Havers, his ever-composed butler, stepped into the room.
“Your Grace,” he spoke as a faint edge of hesitation appeared in his voice, which was a rare thing. “You have a visitor. Miss Ellory.”
Robert looked up slowly, blinking once.
“Miss Ellory?” he repeated, as though the name might change upon second hearing.
