III
EDEN
My mother’s heels click sharply against the stone floor.
We’re walking through the vaulted hallways of the Augustine Academy’s administrative building—an ancient gothic building, the air thick with the smell of wax and old books.
The sound echoes against the stone floor. Grating, just as harsh as her grip on my shoulder. We must look like a loving mother and daughter to the other students. I notice the looks we get, the awed whispers. My mother commands attention like that. Whenever she steps in a room, people notice.
She is dressed head-to-toe in obscure couture brands. The Kelly held delicately in my grasp is beyond rare. Mother owns the only other one that was ever made. It’s all part of the performance, though. One we have perfected well. I know exactly what she desires of me from just a simple look.
Her grip is a leash, not a show of affection.
“Don’t embarrass me,” she murmurs, a smile on her face for the audience. “This is your last chance to make yourself useful to your father and I. ”
“Yes, mother.” I nod with a smile, even though my heart is about to pop.
We pass through a grand foyer—a symphony of dark wood, gleaming brass, stained glass windows and imposing stone. It reminds me of our estate in Norfolk. Ornate chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling. Their crystals catch the light and scatter it like stars.
We pause by the archway. My mother narrows her eyes as she surveys the room. I recognize a few faces from our church, but nobody that my mother would want to speak to. Several students lounge in the open space, speaking in hushed tones.
Parents mull around too, some preoccupied with their children. But eventually, all eyes are on us. I’m grateful not to be on the other side of my mother’s calculating gaze. She’s dissecting who’s worth it and who isn’t.
“Your acquaintances matter as well.” She pivots so gracefully to face me, it’s hard to believe she’s wearing 120mm Louboutins. “Don’t fraternize with people to whom we wouldn’t give the time of day outside of these walls.”
“Of course, Mum.”
She smooths out the lapels of my uniform jacket. There’s a satisfied smirk on her face, and my heart skips a beat. She looks me over, head to toe.
“You look like a true Lockhart.”
“Thank you, Mum.” I nod, trying hard not to show my excitement.
Her face turns stoic a second later, as she beckons one of the Sisters over.
“I must leave now. Your father and I have engagements. Don’t forget what I’ve told you, Eden.”
She gives me a slight squeeze. Her words hang in the air as she strides away. I’m left there, standing in the heart of a place that might as well have been a foreign country.
My last school—it felt nothing like this. It was still an elite private school, but not as big or ancient. From what I found online, Augustine Diocesan Academy sits on almost two thousand acres.
Though most of it is wooded, the campus encompasses acres of green space and half a dozen chapels, one of them large enough to seat eight hundred, a great hall for meals, two expansive dormitories—split by gender—with their own gardens, a three-storey library filled with texts hundreds of years old, and dozens of other buildings, manicured gardens and courtyards and cloisters.
I’m staring up at the ceiling, taking in the beautiful artwork carved into the stained glass, when someone clears their throat next to me.
A stern-faced nun with a thin silver crucifix pinned to her chest stands beside me. She exudes discipline and holiness, her habit starched to perfection. Though I’m in awe of her commitment to our Lord, I can’t help my nerves. The nun gives me a sweeping gaze.
“You’re Lady Lockhart,” she states.
It’s not even a question.
“Yes, Sister.”
She bobs a curtsy, then gestures for me to follow her. My patent leather mary janes click-clack as I do. I was so caught up in the sound of my mother’s shoes that I couldn’t even hear mine.
Am I annoying the nun?
I dismiss the thought, holding my head a little higher. Lockharts are unapologetic about attention. If I’m going to make a good impression here, I have to get out of my head and focus more on curating a compelling image.
The Sister leads me to a small group of new students clustered near the main entrance. There’s an almost perfect mix of boys and girls. Most of them wear an air of boredom, indifference even. I’m not daunted. I outrank them all—in piety and influence.
“I am Sister Sully,” the nun announces. “The coordinator of your year group. I expect you to get acquainted with my name and face, as you will be seeing me often.” Her voice is firm, almost military. “It is now time for your tour of the Augustine Diocesan Academy campus. Pay attention. Augustine is large. It’s easy to get lost, and if you stray no one will come looking for you.”
Is that a joke or a warning?
I nod with the others, and we fall into step behind her. The tour begins with the academic halls. Sister Sully gestures towards each set of doors, hallways and buildings with quick explanations.
The lecture rooms.
The expansive library.
The chapel for daily prayer service.
I end up falling toward the back of the group, simply because I can’t absorb everything so quickly. The architecture is so beautiful—aged stones, intricate woodwork, weathered statues and an endless maze of stone-paved corridors that seem to wind in every direction.
“Augustine was founded in 1678,” Sister Sully says, as we cross into the inner courtyard that connects all the buildings. “It was built to endure, and you will do well to remember that. Thousands of students have come to this hallowed institution. They have left legacies that far surpass anything modern society can offer.”
She’s saying the same thing my mother said, just in different words.The weight is back on my shoulders. Now that I’m enrolled here, the history of this place nearly feels suffocating. When you throw in the fact that my entire future hinges on what I do over the next few weeks, it’s a lot of pressure.
Sister Sully is ushering us through the cloisters when I hear it.
The low hum of whispers coming from the students dotted around the gardens. Why are they whispering? I adjust my posture, holding my Kelly tighter—just in case this is somehow about me. I’m Viscount Lockhart’s elusive daughter, after all.
But the whispers are getting louder.
This isn’t about me. I glance in the direction of the loudest voices. That’s when I see him.
Silas Peregrine-Ashford IV is striding into the courtyard, three similarly attractive boys with him.
I recognize them from his social media posts. His best friends—Cedric Langley, Maximillian Devereux, and Alistair Montague.
Eleanor had a lot to say about Maximillian. They hit it off at the debutante ball. Though there isn’t much commitment from either of them, she’s hoping it changes. I can see why she would like him. There’s an air of dominance about him.
But it’s nothing compared to the aura Silas exudes. His presence is impossible to ignore. Even Sister Sully’s steps have slowed. Silas doesn’t walk so much as prowl. Each step brings with a ripple of attention from everyone .
The conversations falter and the heads turn as he passes. My pulse quickens. I’ve studied everything there is to know about him. I spent weeks perfecting my plan.
Yet as I stand here looking at him—my mind goes blank.
I had caught a glimpse of him when I had first arrived. It took all my composure to just smirk and look away, a tease just like my mother said.
But now, seeing him up close…
My mouth goes dry.
I clutch the golden cross hanging from my neck, hoping the Spirit will cleanse me from the sinful thoughts swirling through my mind.
Silas is tall with a slender athletic build. His sharp, aristocratic features belie impeccable breeding—high cheekbones, a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes that are even icier than my mother’s. There isn’t a single strand of dark brown hair out of place. The uniform fits him like a glove, tailored in all the right places.
He’s relaxed as he strolls through the courtyard, yet his presence is commanding all the same. Sister Sully continues speaking, but I don’t hear a word she says.
But it’s when Silas’ gaze lands on me that I realize what’s happening.
A shiver crackles down my spine.
He’s looking at me .
He’s walking towards me.
The girls around me are adjusting their hair, straightening their uniforms. One girl even swipes a fresh coat of lip gloss on her lips. I’m tempted to, but I don’t. Again, my mother’s words echo in my head.
If you’re always well-dressed, you never have to prepare.
I already look my best.
The look on Silas’ face tells me he knows I do too. He holds my gaze confidently, effortlessly weaving past the others until he’s standing in front of me, completely ignoring everyone else—even Sister Sully.
“Lady Eden Lockhart.” My name rolls off his tongue smoothly, like he’s savoring the way my name sounds. He knows my name. “I was hoping I’d see you again.”
Again?
I smile, blinking slowly. My cheeks flush slightly—there’s something fluttering and unfamiliar in my chest. But I tamp it down. This is exactly what I wanted.
Sister Sully clears her throat loudly.
The entire courtyard is aflutter with conversation.
“Lord Peregrine-Ashford, you’re interrupting my tour.”
Silas doesn’t even look in her direction. His eyes are glued to me.
“I understand Sister.” He finally looks at her, and there’s a certain calm confidence in his demeanor. “I’d like to borrow Lady Lockhart.”
Sister Sully sighs, her face tightening.
Surely she’ll say no…
“Of course, Lord Peregrine-Ashford,” she says almost begrudgingly. It’s clear she doesn’t want to make a scene. She turns to the rest of the group. “Come along. We’ve already wasted enough time.”
A knowing smile curves Silas’ lips as the group murmurs behind me. There’s a mixture of shock and envy, but Silas doesn’t seem to care. As a matter of fact, he revels in it watching them leave with an amused expression. He extends a hand—not to touch, it’s more like he’s inviting me into something better, something secret.
I take his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” I say.
Eleanor’s advice comes to mind. I can’t let him know how much I already know about him. It’ll scare him off, and then all my hardwork will be in vain. Silas smiles, leading me away from the group and toward another pathway. His friends have dispersed, leaving us walking through the center of the courtyard—all eyes on us.
My anxiety rises with each step.
“Not formally,” Silas says. “I am Silas Peregrine Ashford IV, the next Duke of Surrey.” He kisses the back of my hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Keeping my smile demure, I ask, “Do you mind if I ask where our paths have crossed before?”
He’s much taller than me—by nearly a whole foot if I had to guess. I tilt my head to look up at him, and the stormy sky is the perfect backdrop for his handsome features. The anxiety is starting to fill me up.
But this is a game, and I have to play it well.
“At St. John’s Cathedral. Your family visited recently, but left before I got the chance to come over to you. I’ve been searching for you ever since.”
The Lord really does answer prayers. Here I was agonizing over seducing this man when he had already seen me. He already likes me.
Wonderful.
Despite this, I’ll be careful not to overplay my hand. He’s slowed his gait to match mine. We aren’t holding hands, but he’s close enough that our fingers brush every now and then. The feeling is exhilarating.
The last time I felt this way…
“So, you stole me away from my tour because you wanted to meet me?” I look up from beneath thick eyelashes—I triple coated them with mascara. “That’s quite mischievous of you, Lord Peregrine-Ashford.”
“Please, call me Silas.” His smile widens enough for me to get a glimpse of his perfect, white teeth. “When a man finds a hidden treasure, he does everything in his power to get it.”
I hide my blush behind a dainty chuckle. “Matthew 13:44.” He’s calling me his treasure. “Well, Silas. You may call me Eden.”
He nods. “I still intend to give you a tour, Eden. I promise mine will be more…interesting.”
I’m fighting to keep a straight face. My heart thuds in my chest. I’ve spent my whole life living in the shadow of my mother, my younger brothers. More often than not, I’ve felt invisible compared to them. But right now, Silas is looking at me like I’m the only person in the world.
“I certainly hope it is.”
He leads me toward a narrow pathway shaded by ancient willows. The air here feels different—quieter, more intimate even. There aren’t many students here either.
It’s like he’s reading my mind, for he says, “The courtyard is where everyone pretends to be perfect. But if you know where to look, you’ll be able to find places where you can breathe.”
I take a deep breath. The smell is crisp. Wet earth. Decaying leaves. The sweetness of flowering winter plants. He’s right. It feels like we’re a world away from the stuffiness of Augustine. I close my eyes, revelling in the feeling of calmness washing over me.
When I open my eyes, Silas is staring at me with a smirk.
“Sister Sully would never show you these places,” he says. “These are my secret places. They help me clear my mind.”
We start walking again. “I can see why you’d like this spot. ”
“This isn’t even the best of it.”
His voice is deep and warm, with a rich undertone. I could get used to it.
The lazy afternoon sun filters through the trees as Silas and I walk down a path that slopes slightly. Fortunately, my shoes are both fashionable and comfortable. Silas’ strides are confident and unhurried. He’s the perfect gentleman, giving me his arm wherever the path gets a bit difficult.
Yet, the soft crunch of leaves beneath our feet is the only sound for a while.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he says, glances sideways at me. His lips curl into a self-assured smile.
“I’m still trying to figure you out.” I fold my arms over my chest as the trees begin to thin out. “You don’t exactly seem like the tour guide type.”
Silas’ chuckle is low and warm. “Maybe I just have a weakness for beautiful, curious girls.”
My lips twitch upward, but I roll my eyes. “What ever gave you the impression that I’m curious?”
“You accepted my invitation.” He looks very sure of himself. “You’re intrigued. I can tell.”
I don’t respond. But I keep following him.
After a bit more walking, the trees part to reveal a small clearing. At its center stands the skeletal remains of what must have been a chapel. It’s a crumbling stone building with half-collapsed walls and vines creeping along what’s left of the shattered arched windows and caved in roof. There’s an odd feeling that creeps up the back of my neck as I look at the ruins.
“This,” Silas says, pausing at the edge of the plot of land it sits on. The grass is well-maintained, oddly. “Is what’s left of the first Augustine chapel. I’m told some distant relative of mine helped build it.”
I file that away to share with Eleanor later. His family’s ties to the church run deep. Just when I thought he couldn’t be any more perfect. Taking a step forward, my breath catches as I take it all in.
It’s hauntingly beautiful, like something out of a forgotten fairytale. Moss clings to the stones, wildflowers growing in clusters where the pews must have been. A bronze crucifix has survived, leaning against one of the columns.
Proof that the Lord is the past, present and future.
“What happened to it?” My voice is barely a whisper.
I’m still wrapped up in the atmospheric presence of the ruins. It must’ve been able to hold four hundred people—maybe even more. I picture the devotees whose lives revolved around this place. The tear-stained faces turned to the sky. It must have felt like their connection to God was severed, or at least weakened for a while.
What’s a worshipper without their place of worship?
“It was struck by lightning during a terrible storm nearly three centuries ago. They rebuilt the new chapel closer to the main campus and left this one to rot.” He pauses. “Most people don’t come here. They say it’s cursed by the souls of the parishioners who died during the storm.”
My jaw slackens. People died ? I hold the golden cross around my neck, offering up a quick, silent prayer for them.
“You don’t believe it’s cursed?”
He steps closer, lowering his voice. “No. They died in the best place they could ever be. Why would their souls be bound here?” He has a point. “I’m not the type to scare easily.”
For a moment, we stand there. The breeze whispers through the broken windows. There’s something sacred about this place, even in its ruin. Though, I’ve always had a soft spot for broken, ruined things.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Silas tilts his head, watching me, his expression softens. “Not quite as beautiful as you are.”
The words hang in the air between us. I turn my face away quickly, acting like I’m preoccupied with one of the fallen columns—in reality, I don’t want him to see my cheeks flush.
“We’re not done yet,” he says after a moment, stepping back and nodding toward another path that winds away from the chapel.
“Where to now?”
“You’ll see.”
This path winds upward.
We climb a series of low hills. Tall shrubs reach toward the sky on either side of the path, with long blades of grass interspersed. Despite this, the path is well worn—obviously traversed often. It’s just wide enough for us to walk side by side.
Silas’ slender fingers grip my wrist loosely, steadying me wherever the path gets difficult. For a moment it crosses my mind…
We’re all the way out here, all alone. I should be scared. I should be worried about his intentions. I should be concerned about the fact that we don’t have a chaperone. But I’m not. In fact, I have to be rebuking the thoughts that pop into my head. Though I’ve only met Silas a couple of hours ago, it feels like I’ve known him for much longer .
And my body, well—it’s betraying me.
My skin feels like fire wherever he touches it. When he smiles at me, my lips tingle and images of his lips on mine flash through my mind.
Dear God, please forgive me for this lust.
I distract myself by recalling as many scriptures as I can.
“We’re here,” Silas announces, snapping me out of my thoughts.
We’ve reached a tall, domed structure made of old stone and wood. Squinting up, I notice a large, weathered telescope jutting out of the roof.
“Is this…” I trail off.
We enter through a creaky old door.
It’s dim and cool. The scent of old wood and dusty pages linger in the air. Inside is perfectly preserved, with old artifacts and maps of the constellations tacked to the walls. The domed roof is designed to open up for stargazing. Taking a few steps closer to the telescope, I notice cracks that have been repaired, pieces of metal that have been welded on. It’s old, but well-maintained.
“Welcome to the Augustine Observatory,” Silas says, gesturing grandly with a smile on his face.
I chuckle into my palm. “It’s incredible.”
I wander closer to the telescope, brushing my fingers lightly over the brass.
“No one really comes here,” he says. “They’re too busy trying to be perfect down there.” He nods in the direction of a window. Through it, I can see the main campus—far below us.
I roll my eyes. “What makes you so different from them?”
“I don’t have to try.”
I giggle .
He knows what he is. He knows who he is. I can’t fault him for that—that’s the kind of confidence I’ve wanted all my life.
Giving him a clever smile, I ask, “Why did you bring me here?”
He leans against the wall, arms crossed. He looks thoughtful for a few moments.
Pondering.
“You’re different. It feels like…you’re the only person here who could even begin to understand my life, the expectations placed on us.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tighten. It feels like I’m seeing his heart, raw and exposed. At this moment, he’s not a charming heir. Not the untouchable boy at the top of the school’s social hierarchy. This is something else. Something real. Authentic, even.
Silas pushes off the wall and moves toward the center of the room. There’s a lever jutting out from a control panel on the wall. He pulls it down smoothly. A mechanical hum fills the room—the dome above us begins to open.
The vast, gloomy sky stares down at us.
“You should see this at night,” he says, his gaze drifting upward. “You can see the constellations so clearly. Sometimes other planets.”
I follow his gaze. The cloudy sky is backlit, silver lining the clouds. We can’t see anything , but I can imagine what it must look like—an entire galaxy spinning overhead, infinite and untouchable.
“I feel closer to God when I’m here,” he mumbles.
He’s watching me instead of the sky.
“You should come back here one night,” he says. “With me.”
My heart stumbles over itself. I’m standing too close to the edge of something I don’t understand. But if Viscountess Evelyn Lockhart taught me anything—one of the best things a woman can be is a bit mysterious, unpredictable even.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
His grin is teasing. “Maybe? I’ll take it.”
By the time we leave the observatory, the sun is creeping closer and closer toward the horizon. I’m not sure how I feel being all alone out here in the woods with Silas.
Also, I haven’t even been to my dorm room yet, or met my roommate. I can’t bring myself to say it to him. I’m enjoying this too much. The next path he leads me to is steep.
I hold on to his forearm. He goes down before me. Every few steps, he checks to make sure I’m safe. This path is a bit more rocky than all the others—jagged stones jut out from the damp earth. Fortunately, I had the shoulder strap for my Kelly. It’s slung across my body now.
In the distance, I can see what Silas is leading me to. There’s a wide, shimmering lake bordered by tall reeds and wildflowers. The water is still, reflecting the sky like an impeccable mirror. At the far end of the lake, partially hidden by a line of trees, stands a structure.
When we’re closer, I can make it out more clearly. It’s a small wooden boathouse with a single dock stretching out over the water. The end of the path drops off maybe a foot before turning into sand. Silas makes it down, but I stand at the edge.
I don’t want to jump down.
“Scared?” he teases.
Before I can even tell him that I don’t want to jump down, Silas wraps his strong arms around my waist, picking me up in a single movement then resting me on the shore.
I’m nowhere close to skinny, but he did it so easily.
Keep it together, Eden.
“Thank you,” I smile.
He bows slightly.
That in itself solidifies the fact that I made the right choice. In any circumstance, Silas should never bow to me—it should be the other way around actually. I’ve had to curtesy in the presence of many dukes and duchesses and their children. But here he is, bowing. If even in jest, there’s a certain kind of endearment about it.
“This place wasn’t on the brochure.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
Silas is so close to me, I can feel the heat rolling off his body. Can he hear how fast my heart is beating? “Most people don’t know it exists.”
He looks down at me. “It’s technically off-limits.”
I smile, shaking my head as I step closer to the water’s edge.
I feel Silas’ presence. “Whenever I need to get away from…everything, I come here.”
“I can see why. It feels like a secret.”
He chuckles. “It is. But I wanted to share it with you.”
Another moment of vulnerability. This one takes me by surprise. I turn to face him—forgetting where we are, who we are. All that I can focus on is the way he’s looking at me.
There’s the slightest bit of hesitation, then he reaches out, brushing his fingers over my cheek. It’s the lightest, briefest touch. But it sends shockwaves through my body. I blink slowly, trying to regain control of my senses.
He’s close enough for me to smell the sharpness of bergamot, the darkness of amber with an unexpected dash of wood—all mixed in with the crisp, soapy freshness of clean linen.
Lord, please cleanse me of these thoughts.
Yet, despite my pleas, for the first time I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. Silas takes a step back, possibly sensing the connection between us—and how close we are to doing something we shouldn’t.
“Sit with me at Mass tomorrow,” he says.
I nod, not trusting my voice. He takes another step back. My heart falls, already missing the way his closeness made me feel.
“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the way we came. “We should head back before Sister Sully sends out a search party.”
I laugh. “That would be a terrible impression to make on my first day.”
Silas smirks. After he lifts me back on to the path we walk back in silence, a comfortable one. It’s the perfect backdrop as I replay everything—the chapel, the observatory, the boathouse. His touch.
By the time we’ve made it back to the cobbled stone path that leads to the dormitories, my fingertips feel numb, my chest tightening. I’m not cold though. I’m not out of breath either. I’ve never felt this feeling before. I don’t know what it is, but I feel something in my gut.
I’m falling.