They reached her door. Her hand touched the knob, but she hesitated. She turned to him. He leaned forward, his voice low, barely more than breath.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She blinked, startled by the gentleness of it. He was not a man who said such things easily… if ever. The words wrapped around her like warmth in the cold, entirely unexpected and impossibly intimate.
“You don’t have to—” she began, but he shook his head once.
“I do.”
Her lips parted, but again, no words came. Not the right ones. She stepped back into the threshold of her chamber, eyes still locked on his.
Robert reached into his coat and tucked the hairpin safely into an inner pocket.
“I’ll return it,” he said, that familiar dry edge back in his voice, softer this time. “Eventually.”
She was still smiling as she closed the door gently behind her, leaning against it just for a moment. Even a minute later, her heart still hadn’t slowed.
Evelyn stood before the long mirror, her reflection cloaked in the shimmer of candlelight and silk. Her gown was a deep emerald green, the sort of shade that demanded to be noticed: lush, bold, and gleaming like forest leaves after rain. It hugged her figure with unapologetic elegance, the neckline sweeping just low enough to make her mother sigh and her father grumble.
She fastened the final earring with deft fingers and tilted her head, scrutinizing the image before her. A duchess, certainly. But also a woman on a mission, a woman who was half huntress, half diplomat, entirely unwilling to be ignored.
The knock came as she smoothed her gloves. Two firm raps. She turned just as the door creaked open, and there he was. Robert stopped just over the threshold.
She felt the shift in the air before she saw his expression—like a stillness that spread from his chest to his fingertips. His gaze traveled slowly, intently, from the sweep of her shoulders to the curve of her waist then met her eyes with something unspoken behind his own. She watched the flicker of breath he didn’t take, the pause that told her all she needed to know.
“Oh dear,” she said lightly as her lips curved. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to inform me of a sudden illness. Or perhaps you’ve remembered some pressing engagement involving brooding in a dark corner with a glass of scotch that will make you utterly unable to attend this ball?”
His mouth twitched… almost a smile. “Tempting.”
“Mm, I thought so.” She stepped closer, hands clasped before her. “It’s just…thisis rather a difficult dress to waste on my mother’s compliments and other gentlemen’s leering. If you abandon me now, I shall be forced to flirt outrageously with some poor man just to make up for your absence.”
He arched a brow. “You say that like it’s a threat tome.”
“Isn’t it?”
Another flicker at the edge of his lips, but then his voice dropped to that maddeningly calm timbre. “You look radiant.”
She stilled. It was not the teasing nor the sarcasm she had expected. It was that quiet sincerity that completely caught her off guard. His gaze didn’t leave hers, and it held something more than admiration. It was fierce loyalty, as if he would go to war simply because she had asked him to.
“Well,” she said, trying to reclaim her footing with a tilt of her head, “if you’re going to be charming, I may lose my reputation entirely.”
He stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click. “You’re under the impression you stillhaveone because you seem to have forgotten that you are a ruined woman… ruined byme.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is this your way of apologizing then?” she teased. “You’re going to endure society and music and watered wine for me?”
He moved closer, the black of his evening coat as stark and sharp as ever. He hadn’t donned anything fashionable or festive,of course not, but he had shaved, and the crispness of his attire suggested he’d made an effort.
“I would endure worse for you,” he said, and it was not flirtation.
It was fact. Evelyn felt her pulse skip, the teasing on her tongue evaporating. But he didn’t let the moment linger.
“Besides,” he added with a shrug, “someone has to keep all those leering eyes away from you.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “Jealous, Your Grace?”
He offered her his arm. “Possessive.”
Her breath hitched, but she masked it with a smile and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.
