Just then, the door creaked open, halting their standoff.
Eleanor stood in the doorway holding aloft a gown of pale blue silk, her face alight with gentle expectation. “Do you like it?” she asked, moving forward.
Norman’s gaze softened a bit as he took in his sister’s optimistic countenance. She was the only element of his existence that hisfather’s ruin had not touched, the only reason he could stand the suffocating burdens of his title.
Lady Mulberry’s expression faltered; it was as though she had just swallowed something unpleasant, realizing that Norman had anticipated her move and acted ahead of her.
Eleanor gazed at him encouragingly. “Norman?”
Brown’s warning still coiled in his mind, but Norman refused to let them steal this moment. He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he met Eleanor’s expectant gaze. Eleanor turned in her gown, and Norman couldn’t help the quiet pride that settled in his chest.
She was sunshine incarnate—not just in the golden hue of her hair, but in the way she brightened every room she entered. Even after years of loss and hardship, her eyes still glinted like the world held no shadows. It was a gift, that lightness of hers, one he would protect at any cost.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “You’ll outshine every diamond in the room, Eleanor. As always.”
“Thank you, brother. You’ve chosen the most magnificent dress for me.” Her smile was dazzling, and the atmosphere in the room momentarily relaxed.
But when she stepped aside to pin the dress against her body, Norman found himself staring again into Lady Mulberry’s eyes.There was only a flicker of embarrassment, as if she realized too late the battle she had fought had been unnecessary.
Eleanor curtsied with the practiced graciousness of a young lady raised to solicit the ton’s attention. “Thank you, brother. You are very kind.”
Norman inclined his head, glancing at the dress over her arm. “I have also arranged for you to wear our mother’s diamonds tonight. They will give you the importance you deserve.”
A flicker of excitement crossed Eleanor’s face, but she bit it back, schooling her face to politeness. “How thoughtful. I will see that they are attended to properly. Thank you.”
She turned and left without a word, her steps light but measured, a well-trained debutante preparing herself for the performance of a lifetime.
Norman rose as well, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve before casting his grandmother a measured look. “You need not worry, Grandmother. I have all this well under control.”
Lady Mulberry inclined her head, looking at him with the sharp eyes of a woman who had mastered the game of manipulation decades before he was born. “And what about you, Norman? Your sister is sure to secure the husband she deserves. But I believe you have found a suitable wife already.”
Ah, round two. The lady does not rest.
Norman sighed, already predicting where the conversation was going. “I suppose, you are implying Lady Cynthia.”
“Precisely,” Lady Mulberry confirmed, smiling faintly at her lips as if she had anticipated him to protest before he spoke. “It was your father’s wish. Do you recall his words?”
“Unite our noble houses and produce an heir?” Norman laughed—the word seemed ridiculous to him. “Ah, yes, I recall. ‘Produce’ is such an unromantic term, don’t you think? It makes marriage sound somewhat like…breeding cows.”
“It is,” Lady Mulberry said matter-of-factly. “Romance is for fools and poets—or have you forgotten your cousin Foxdrey’s disgrace? The man treats his title like a tavern joke. Your duty, Norman, is to secure the Egerton line, as your father has done, and his father before him. It is not a matter of want—it is an expectation.”
Norman didn’t flinch. His smirk vanished and the air turned to ice as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a lethal calm, the kind that precedes a blade being drawn. “You forget, Grandmother—I made my own vow long before you decided to meddle. The Egerton line dies with me.”
Three
They’re all staring at me.
Kitty’s chin remained high, her smile steady, but beneath her composed exterior, she felt the weight of every eye in the room upon her. From the moment that the McGowans came in the front doors, conversation languished, heads turned, and the common ballroom hush rendered it impossible to ignore—their arrival had not been anticipated.
“Let them look,” Richard whispered beside her, speaking quietly but standing firmly. “But do not allow yourself to become their prey.”
For one brief moment, Kitty had become the center of attention in a world she had never known. The women, their eyes wide in curiosity and a hint of envy, gasped over her gown—its delicate, Italian stitching, the pattern that spoke of continental influence without crossing the line into impropriety.
Kitty noticed the way the men were looking at her—their gazes lingering, their smiles a little too eager. She smoothed her skirts self-consciously, wondering if her hem was crooked or if she’d spilled something on her bodice. Surely there must be some reason for their attention.
She’d never been the sort to draw eyes like this—not like the dazzling debutantes who knew just how to tilt their heads and flutter their fans. Perhaps it was the new ribbon in her hair?
One by one, they came, their bows faultless, their requests to dance offered with handsome smiles. Kitty acquiesced with a gracious smile, her composure undisturbed.
