Chapter 2
When Evelyne returned to her chambers, the bath was ready and the room was filled with the calming scent of lavender oil—no doubt Seraphine’s doing.
She longed to sink into the warm water, doze off even, but Aurelia’s warning still echoed in her thoughts.
“Two hours, Evelyne. If you’re not ready, I’ll storm in, brush in hand!
” Just imagining her sister lecturing her on the arts of courtship while applying endless rouge made her shudder.
“Seraphine, you are my savior,” Evelyne called out as she entered the tub. The water embraced her skin with soothing heat, and she sighed deeply.
“Well, my lady, you might not think so when I lace up your corset,” Seraphine teased from the dressing room.
Evelyne chuckled. “I’d still choose you over Aurelia’s schemes of matrimony.” She leaned back, letting the lavender relax her tense shoulders, though her thoughts were far from calm.
The mere thought of the upcoming luncheon filled her with dread—it would mean enduring the company of Lord Ivan Bavrick of Rosewyth.
Though hailing from a land renowned for its enchanting gardens and breathtaking vistas, Bavrick seemed a blight on Rosewyth’s beauty, a man whose demeanor and appearance clashed sharply with his homeland’s idyllic charm.
Ivan Bavrick was nearing forty, his balding head a patchy canvas of ruddy freckled skin and thinning strands of auburn hair awkwardly combed over in a futile attempt to disguise the inevitable.
His perpetually flushed complexion bore the telltale signs of indulgence, whether from his fondness for long days under the sun or a far stronger fondness for liquor.
Evelyne suspected the latter, especially given how he always leaned in too close, his breath heavy with the stench of bourbon and garlic.
He was insufferably dull, bloated with self-importance, and spoke in a booming voice that made mundane topics, like estate management, feel like endless lectures.
He boasted constantly about his wealth and crop yields, never noticing Evelyne’s clear disinterest. And his laugh—loud, grating, and utterly obnoxious—seemed to linger in the air long after he was gone, leaving her nerves thoroughly frayed.
She had perfected the art of avoidance, slipping through crowds and into alcoves at the first glimpse of Bavrick’s flushed face. Yet no matter how deftly she evaded him, he always managed to find her, drink in hand, as relentless as a hound on a scent.
Evelyne groaned softly. She could already picture him approaching with those overly enthusiastic eyes searching hers as if daring her to escape.
“Do you think I could pretend to be ill?” Evelyne asked with genuine consideration.
“I wouldn’t dare suggest it, my lady,” Seraphine replied. “Lady Aurelia would drag you out, nightgown and all.”
Evelyne let out a soft laugh. “You’re probably right.”
After soaking for a while, she reluctantly stepped out of the tub, allowing Seraphine to drape a towel over her shoulders.
“Now,” Seraphine said, guiding her toward the vanity, “let’s make you a vision no one will forget.” Her hands moved swiftly as she pinned Evelyne’s brown curls into an elegant style. “If the lords aren’t captivated by your hair, they’ll be enchanted by your eyes.”
Evelyne raised an eyebrow. “My ‘plain golden eyes,’ as Aurelia calls them?”
“Plain? If the sun had a color, it would look like your eyes. Aurelia only says that because she hasn’t got them herself.”
“You always know how to make me feel better.”
“Flattery is in the job description, my lady.”
The gown she chose was a masterpiece. The silk shimmered in soft blue tones, reminiscent of the sky after rain.
Silver embroidery traced the neckline and cuffs like frost on winter glass.
Modestly puffed sleeves tapered into fitted arms, the tight corset shaping her feminine figure as her skirts gently swayed with each step.
Evelyne sighed as Seraphine pulled the corset strings tighter. “I’ll wager I won’t manage more than a single tart before this thing has me gasping.”
“Nonsense. You’ll manage two if you eat standing up,” Seraphine quipped.
With a light touch of cosmetics, she completed the look. Evelyne’s lashes framed her eyes beautifully, and her cheeks glowed with a faint blush. A soft pink on her lips was the finishing detail.
“There. You’ll have everyone craning their necks for a glimpse.”
Evelyne twirled in front of the mirror, watching the skirts of her gown ripple. And for a brief moment, her earlier worries melted away.
“Thank you, Seraphine. Truly.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“If fortune favors me, this gown will distract them from their tiresome prattle,” Evelyne murmured with a smile.
Seraphine chuckled. “Miracles do happen.”
***
The gardens of the Duskwood estate stretched out like a dream, their opulence a testament to the wealth and status of Caltheris’ ruling family.
Ancient oaks framed the grounds, their twisted branches heavy with moss and blooming vines.
Silken canopies in soft pastels dotted the main lawn, shading tables draped in ivory linens and adorned with ornate porcelain tea sets.
Evelyne halted at the garden’s edge, unease settling in. Her dress swayed, catching the sunlight, but her corset pinched tight. Still, she moved with steady refinement, masking her thoughts behind a calm expression.
The society luncheon marked the start of the courting season, where noble families from the south gathered to showcase their eligible sons and daughters.
It was as much a show of power as a carefully orchestrated game of alliances.
Evelyne couldn’t decide which she loathed more—the stifling tradition or the endless parade of suitors.
“Come now, at least try to look like you’re having fun,” Aurelia said as she slipped to Evelyne’s side in a shimmering emerald gown, offering a knowing smile at the ordeal of such courting events.
Evelyne sighed, her gaze drifting over the crowd in search of any excuse to linger at the edges.
Near a canopy, she caught sight of Lady Bavrick—striking in a gown of deep sapphire, her silver-streaked auburn hair gleaming with a regal grace her son had inherited in neither looks nor manner.
Evelyne’s lips curved faintly at the thought, but the amusement faded when she noticed her mother beside Lady Bavrick, deep in conversation.
Heartbeat quickening, Evelyne edged closer to Aurelia and shrank back, using her sister’s presence as a shield while silently praying their mother’s eyes did not find her.
No such luck—Lady Celeste, noticing her daughters at the edge of the garden, offered a graceful wave of her gloved hand, excused herself, and began to glide toward them. Great.
“My dears,” she said warmly, her keen hazel eyes sweeping over them both.
“You look stunning.” She took Aurelia’s hands first, gently squeezing them, before turning to Evelyne and brushing a hand along her shoulder.
“The blue suits you perfectly, Evelyne. Your hair looks lovely pinned up like that.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Evelyne gave a small dip of her head.
“Now,” Celeste continued, “remember to greet every noble family, no matter how tedious it may feel. These events are as much about making connections as they are about appearances. Smile, be pleasant, and for goodness’ sake, Evelyne—be polite.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“The luncheon is for your benefit, after all. You never know what opportunities might arise from a kind word or a thoughtful gesture.” Their mother’s expression softened as she added, “I know this isn’t your favorite part of the season, Evelyne, but do try to look entertained.”
She sounded exactly like Aurelia, and Evelyne had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. With that, Lady Duskwood patted her hand and gave them both a final, approving nod before gliding back into the crowd.
The crisp notes of laughter and conversation floated through the garden. Evelyne found herself again caught in the endless chatter of debutantes and their mothers, each vying for attention with exaggerated smiles and hollow merriment.
She was about to take refuge by the floral centerpiece when a sudden hush rippled through the crowd. Heads turned, and Evelyne instinctively followed their gaze to the man stepping into the garden.
Alaric Stonebridge.
His rich, sun-kissed brown skin seemed to catch the light, glowing warmly against the deep green of his perfectly tailored waistcoat.
His black hair was neatly styled, every strand in place, adding to his cultivated appearance.
But his eyes stood out most—light blue with hints of hazel.
They were utterly mesmerizing, and looking away was nearly impossible.
Evelyne couldn’t help but take notice, as she often did, of how seamlessly he carried both his mother’s grace and his father’s imposing demeanor.
Their families had been closely intertwined for years through friendship, business, and mutual respect.
While Alaric’s charisma quickly captivated others, Evelyne had long since learned to see past the facade.
His eyes met hers as he approached, and a wry smile appeared. “Lady Evelyne,” he greeted her smoothly. “What a delight to see you here. The scenery is much improved by your beauty.”
Evelyne raised an eyebrow. “You must practice these lines in front of a mirror, Mr. Stonebridge. How else could they sound so rehearsed?”
His laugh was soft, genuine, and infuriatingly appealing. “And here I thought my charm would win you over.”
“Not today, I’m afraid,” Evelyne retorted, though she couldn’t entirely suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Before Alaric could reply, Aurelia reappeared, looping her arm through Evelyne’s. “Oh, Evelyne, why must you talk that way to such a handsome suitor?” She flashed a smile.
Evelyne cast her sister a pointed look. “Perhaps you’d care to take my place, Aurelia? No one has mastered the art of beguiling men so diligently as you.”