She looked away, toward the dressing table where her wedding gown hung like a specter of fate.
“I won’t let him cloud today,” she added, more to herself than to them. “Not after everything.”
Cordelia’s brows drew together with a protective rage that made her look like a furious cherub. “Just say the word, Evelyn. Truly. I have a tailor’s outfit I could throw on, and we’ll be off to Gretna before anyone notices. I’ll even forge the documents myself.”
Despite everything, despite the nausea in her stomach and the pounding weight in her chest, Evelyn laughed.
It wasn’t much, but it was real.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “But I’m not running. Not anymore. He isn’t… Robert isn’t likehim.”
That admission hung in the air for a moment, suspended in its weight. The first time she had spoken the Duke’s name without bitterness, without defiance.
Hazel tilted her head. “Did something happen? Between you and the Duke?”
Evelyn nodded slowly. “We reached an understanding. Of sorts. After yesterday… I told him the truth. About why I didn’t want to marry. And he listened. He didn’t dismiss me or get angry. He just asked what I wanted out of it.”
Cordelia and Hazel exchanged glances.
“I told him I wanted independence. That we should lead separate lives,” she added. “He agreed. But he asked for a month where we would be together before going our own ways. For appearances.”
Hazel considered this, folding her arms. “That seems… considerate. For a man like him.”
“A good man,” Cordelia murmured. “If a brooding, intense, slightly terrifying one.”
Evelyn looked down at her hands. They were steady, despite the turmoil inside her.
“He is all of those things,” she agreed. “But he’s also kind in his own way. Honest, at least. I think…” she hesitated, surprising herself. “I think I trust him.”
Hazel stepped forward and reached for the gown. “Well, then. Let’s get you ready to be the most formidable duchess this house has ever seen.”
With practiced hands, they set to work pinning curls, fastening tiny buttons, smoothing lace and silk with gentle reverence. Cordelia couldn’t help but fuss over the veil and tried two tiaras before Hazel made her choose.
Finally, Evelyn stood in front of the tall mirror, the one gilded in silver and framed by ivy carvings, and looked at herself.
Angelic.
That was the word that came to her though it felt strange. She had never thought of herself that way. But the woman staring back at her with pale ivory silk cascading to the floor, green eyes wide and luminous, and a blush blooming high on her cheeks… she looked like a bride in a painting. Like someone she barely recognized.
“You’re radiant,” Cordelia whispered, awestruck.
“You look exactly how you’re meant to,” Hazel added firmly. “Strong. Elegant. Unshakable.”
Evelyn stared at her reflection.
“I hope I feel like her soon,” she murmured.
They stood behind her now, like sentinels, one on each side, ready to carry her through the fire if they had to.
Chapter Fourteen
She was walking toward him.
Robert’s breath caught. Not that he let it show. His jaw remained firm, his hands clasped behind his back, and his spine like iron. But inside, something raw and feral surged to life.
The chapel was quiet, reverent. The morning sun had dared to pour its light through the high stained-glass windows, catching in the shimmer of her gown. She had chosen the pearl-toned silk which molded to her like liquid moonlight. It clung to her waist, whispering against the floor as she walked. Her veil trailed behind her like a ghost of light. Her hair, pinned just so, gleamed like a dark halo. And those eyes, green as spring moss after rain, clearer than he had ever seen them, were fixed on him.
He gripped his hands tighter behind his back. He did not smile,but he desperately wanted to.
