But Alaric wasn’t himself.
He stood beside her, his arm around her waist, but his touch felt distant. His replies were short when the engagement was mentioned, and his smile was too quick to be real. He had looked at her when they first arrived, told her she was beautiful and even kissed her cheek softly before leading her inside. But she couldn’t ignore how he emptied glass after glass of champagne, how his jaw stayed tight, and how his eyes kept searching for something just beyond her.
At first, Evelyne ignored it, but as the night wore on, a wave of unease settled over her. The way Alaric avoided her gaze and the growing distance between them tightened a knot in her stomach. Something was wrong.
“Dance with me?” Evelyne asked him with pleading eyes. She expected a smile, a playful quip, something to reassure her, but instead, he only gave a silent, perfunctory nod. Without a word, he took her arm and led her to the dance floor.
Her heart plummeted. He wasn’t happy, and the realization hit her like a blow.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as they took their first steps, her voice barely above a whisper. She searched his face, praying that he would shake off whatever cloud hung over him and tell her.
“Nothing. Why do you ask?” His tone was calm and careful, but his gaze remained distant.
Evelyne frowned. “Have I done something to upset you?”
That, at least, seemed to pull him back. His eyes softened as they met hers, and before she could process it, his hands cupped her face gently. She hadn’t realized how much she needed his warm touch and longed to see his smile again.
“You’ve done nothing to upset me, Evelyne,” he murmured, his lips curling into that smile she loved. “You are perfect.”
Relief flooded her, but he twirled her into the next step before she could respond, spinning her into the waltz rhythm. She let him take the lead, allowing herself to surrender to the rhythm of the music. At least Ivan Bavrick was nowhere to be seen. One less problem to deal with. Still, she couldn’t help but hope Alaric’s punch had left a visible, well-earned bruise—one for everyone to notice.
When the melody slowed, she dared to ask again. “And you? Are you okay?”
He shrugged, casual, unaffected. “Big crowds stress me out.”
Evelyne arched a brow. “You?” she scoffed. “Afraid of big crowds?”
He was lying, and they both knew it. Alaric thrived in the spotlight. He loved flirting, charming, and effortlessly commanding attention. This wasn’t nerves. This was something else.
She could have pressed him and demanded answers, but not here. Not now. So, she let it go, and they danced. Just the one, and though his movements were precise, they were empty. Even so close, he felt impossibly far away.
And then it was over. The final note of the waltz hovered in the air as Alaric released her. He bowed politely and excused himself, disappearing into the sea of guests.
Evelyne stood there, frozen, her heart pounding against the confines of her corset. She smiled through the congratulations, nodding graciously, accepting well wishes with all the poise expected of her. But her mind was elsewhere.
Where had Alaric gone? And why did it feel like she was already losing him?
It wasn’t until she spotted Callista, standing with her usual clique of well-dressed, sharp-tongued friends, that her night took an even stranger turn. Callista smirked as she raised her champagne flute in a feigned salute.
“Lady Evelyne, who would have thought? You engaged to Alaric Stonebridge. What a surprise.”
Evelyne lifted her chin, keeping her expression neutral. “Thank you for your congratulations, Callista.”
“Oh, don’t mistake me,” Callista said with a false sweetness. “I’m merely wondering how long this little arrangement will last. Alaric has always been so… selective.”
Evelyne narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t going to let Callista ruin her night. “Excuse me. I have a fiancé to find.”
Callista chuckled. “Already scared him off, have you?”
Evelyne didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, she lifted her chin and walked away, refusing to let the words settle.
She needed to find him. Her eyes flicked across the ballroom, scanning for the familiar dark waves of his hair, the sharp cut of his suit—but he was nowhere to be seen.
Before she could slip away unnoticed, Aurelia’s lilting voice interrupted her search. “Oh, Evelyne!” Her sister all but glided toward her, her deep purple gown skimming the floor like liquid silk. Two champagne flutes dangled from her fingers, one of which she promptly thrust into Evelyne’s hand. “You both looked absolutely enchanting out there.”
Evelyne accepted the glass with a tight smile. “Did we?” She took a sip, letting the bubbles fizz against her lips before adding, “Then perhaps you’ve seen my enchanting partner? He seems to have vanished.”
Aurelia hummed thoughtfully, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting Alaric to materialize from the shadows. “I haven’t, I’m afraid. Though I hope he’ll save me a dance before the night is through. You know, since I return home tomorrow.” She swayed dramatically, lifting her glass in a mock toast to herself. “Oh, I’d love for someone to sweep me across the floor tonight. Will you ask him for me, please?”
