Chapter 7
Seraphine and Aurelia had spent the afternoon meticulously preparing Evelyne for the evening’s feast. Their focus was primarily on what she should say, how she should act, and the image she should project.
However, Evelyne’s thoughts were consumed by a more pressing concern: her mother’s threat to marry her off to Lord Bavrick.
The prospect filled her with dread, and she was desperate to escape the impending disaster.
Evelyne understood that not all marriages were based on passionate love.
Many were arrangements of convenience, alliances formed for political or financial gain.
But she had always hoped for something better than the fate that awaited her with Lord Bavrick.
He was precisely the sort of gentleman who mistook silence for admiration and wealth for character.
She was to avoid him at all costs during the Stonebridge feast. The annual event was always a grand affair, with a lavish spread of food and drink and a gathering of the most prominent families in the region.
Evelyne usually enjoyed the feast, particularly as the seating arrangement allowed her to converse without moving around.
She could simply sit, eat, drink, and chat with those around her.
As for tonight, she would still engage in conversation, but her goal would be to catch the eye of any decent gentleman who was not Ivan Bavrick.
She would smile, flirt, and do whatever it took to attract the attention of anyone who could offer her an escape from her mother’s plans.
It would be a challenge. Her mother would be keeping a close eye on her, and Lord Bavrick wouldn’t be far, ready to stake his claim.
But she was determined to navigate the treacherous waters of the feast and emerge victorious, with her future secured on her terms.
The grand hall of the Stonebridge Manor held a splendor Evelyne had always admired but seldom witnessed up close.
The vaulted ceilings soared above, their dark oak beams carved with ancient motifs of vines and symbols.
Rich tapestries adorned the walls, their embroidered tales depicting battles and alliances, the legacy of the Stonebridge family stitched into every thread.
The air was rich with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh greenery, while a pianoforte in the corner added a gentle melody.
Banquet tables stretched the length of the hall, set beneath silver chandeliers that cast a soft, flickering light.
Nobles in their finest attire filled the space, their conversations a mix of quiet scheming and lighthearted laughter.
Evelyne recognized a few familiar faces but didn’t linger, keeping pace with her family as they moved through the crowd.
She wore a deep emerald velvet gown that fit her perfectly.
Seraphine had left her long brown hair mostly loose, pinning back one side with a delicate clip to reveal a simple silver earring.
She rarely thought of herself as beautiful, but tonight, with so many eyes on her, she allowed herself to feel it.
She inhaled deeply, her heart fluttering as she sensed the guests’ gazes sweeping over her and her family.
Beside her, Lady Celeste moved with grace in a pale silver gown, a striking contrast to Evelyne’s deeper hues, while Aurelia followed closely behind.
Although married, Aurelia still attended events to uphold the Duskwood name, a steady symbol of the family’s influence.
And their father, dressed in black, had a quiet but undeniable presence that commanded respect without a word.
As they made their way through the hall, Evelyne kept her head high, though she couldn’t help but wish her brother were there to steady her in the overwhelming crowd. It felt selfish, longing for his company when his mind wasn’t ready to endure such gatherings.
Her thoughts slipped back to the brief encounter outside the library earlier that evening. She had nearly collided with Cillian as he’d rushed past, his arms overloaded with a precarious tower of books. He had barely slowed, his steps quick with purpose.
“Just need to keep myself busy tonight,” he had murmured, offering a faint, distracted smile.
Evelyne had glanced at the towering stack, arching a brow. “I think all those will keep you busy for weeks.”
He’d only nodded before disappearing down the hall toward his room.
Now, as the memory surfaced, she felt a pang of unease. Something about the exchange nagged at her, and she decided she would check on him before retiring for the night.
The sight of Lord Ivan Bavrick by one of the tables jolted her back to the present. His stiff posture and piercing stare set her on edge, just as they always did. Evelyne averted her eyes and let them drift across the room, eager for any distraction.
Her gaze shifted to Callista Evermere. Draped in a shimmering blue gown that accentuated her striking eyes and cascading black curls, Callista was a walking spectacle, and she knew it.
The daring neckline left little to the imagination, quickly drawing the interest of the tall man beside her, whose lingering glances made his admiration clear.
Annoyance flickered across Callista’s face the moment she spotted Evelyne, but it vanished behind a flawless smile.
She tossed her hair and laughed, the sound too polished to be real.
Evelyne could read Callista like a well-worn novel—every graceful tilt of her head, every forced laugh, choreographed to command attention.
And tonight, her stage was Alaric. Yet it wasn’t Callista’s performance that unsettled Evelyne now, but the way Alaric seemed to still the instant he noticed her.
His eyes found her and held fast, paying no mind to Callista beside him.
The intensity of his stare sent a shiver through her, and she tore her gaze away, heat rising up her neck.
For reasons she could not name, the weight of it left her suddenly, inexplicably unsteady.
Why was he looking at her like that? And why did her heart trip over itself in answer?
She pushed the thought aside. Tonight was about her family, about maintaining composure and not getting lost in distractions. But even as she forced herself to focus, she couldn’t shake the feeling of his stare.
Celeste lightly rested her hands on Evelyne and Aurelia’s elbows, her voice smooth as she said, “Now, go enjoy yourselves, but not too much.” She gave Evelyne a pointed smile that made it clear she knew exactly how much her daughter despised these gatherings.
Without another word, she drifted off to mingle with the other families, their father following behind her.
Evelyne exhaled slowly and turned to her sister. “Shall we get some wine?”
Aurelia, her attention fixed on the pianoforte in the corner, blinked out of her trance. “That sounds delightful.”
Two glasses later, Evelyne was more than ready to leave.
The conversation around her grew increasingly insufferable, full of petty gripes, romantic speculation, and foolish fawning over Gaviel Stonebridge.
One woman brazenly remarked how fortunate Mrs. Stonebridge must be to share his bed, sending a ripple of giggles through the group.
Did they actually enjoy these conversations?
She turned to make a snide remark to Aurelia—only to realize her sister was gone.
Then, a familiar tune floated through the air, spirited and lively. Evelyne glanced toward the piano and smiled softly at the sight of Aurelia, whose hands danced over the keys with effortless joy. She shook her head, chuckling at her sister’s ability to brighten even the dullest room.
“My lady,” a voice purred from behind her, shattering the momentary peace she had found in watching her sister. Oh gods, no. Evelyne turned to see Ivan Bavrick looming over her, his eyes raking over her figure in a way that made her skin crawl.
“Lord Bavrick,” she replied, forcing a polite smile onto her face.
“Please, call me Ivan,” he insisted, his breath heavy with the scent of liquor.
Evelyne’s stomach churned. “It would be improper, my lord,” she said firmly, subtly shifting her body away from him.
Ivan was undeterred. He reached out and captured her hand, his grip uncomfortably tight. “I’d like to meet you in the gardens later,” he murmured, leaning in close. “Alone.”
Evelyne’s composure wavered for a fraction of a second.
“I’m feeling quite tired,” she began, desperately searching for an escape.
He must have meticulously orchestrated this meeting, ensuring that his brother wouldn’t interfere this time.
She wouldn’t be surprised if he had threatened Wesley for spiriting her away during the last ball.
In fact, she couldn’t even recall noticing Wesley earlier.
“Excuse me, Lord Bavrick,” Alaric interjected smoothly, materializing at Evelyne’s side. His smile was warm, but his eyes never left hers. “My lady, forgive my delay. We still have that discussion about your book to finish, do we not?”
Evelyne breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course,” she said, her voice bright with gratitude as she reached for Alaric’s hand. But before she could take it, Ivan raised her captured hand to his lips, leaving a wet, unwelcome kiss on her skin.
“I’ll see you later, my lady,” he said, his tone laced with a false sweetness that did nothing to mask the threat in his eyes.
As Ivan retreated, Evelyne turned to Alaric. “Thank you for that.”
Alaric chuckled. “Think nothing of it. Though I do expect payment for my heroic deeds.”
“And what form would this payment take?”
“Well,” Alaric said, feigning seriousness, “a conversation about that book would suffice. Though I must confess, I do not know which book we discussed.”
Evelyne laughed, the tension finally easing from her shoulders. “You’ll have to be more specific next time you swoop in to save a damsel, Mr. Stonebridge,” she teased.
“Until then, you’re stuck with me improvising.”
“Somehow, I think I’ll manage.”
Alaric peeked over his shoulder at Lord Bavrick, whose displeasure was evident in the scowl across his face. Then, he turned back to Evelyne and smiled.
“Shall we add fuel to the fire, my lady?” He brushed a hand against the small of her back, a subtle and electrifying gesture. “Join me tonight,” he whispered. “It might just send the message loud and clear.”
His warm touch stole Evelyne’s breath for a moment, but mischief quickly lit her smile. Annoying Lord Bavrick while delighting in the regard of a man who valued her was far too delicious to pass by.
From across the table, Callista watched with thinly veiled contempt, her practiced composure doing little to hide her irritation at Evelyne’s place beside Alaric.
With a dramatic flourish, she leaned forward, showcasing her ample cleavage, and plastered on a smile so sugary it could induce a toothache.
Evelyne had to bite back a laugh. She knew then that the night would be very interesting.
Dinner commenced, and as conversation flowed effortlessly between Evelyne, Alaric, and his companions, Callista’s agitation grew increasingly evident. Every shared laugh, every whispered exchange between Alaric and Evelyne, seemed to ignite a fresh wave of anger in her.
“Why, Lady Evelyne,” Callista drawled, her voice pitched to carry. “You appear remarkably at ease this evening. A rare change, I daresay, from the company you are accustomed to. Which, if memory serves, is… well, almost no one at all—unless the debutantes happen to take pity and draw you in.”
Evelyne arched a brow and slowly sipped her wine before responding. “Quite right, Callista. There is something most refreshing in the company of those whose talk has substance. A rare pleasure, I assure you, especially when compared with what one endures among the debutantes.”
Callista stiffened slightly. “Indeed. Though I imagine it takes time to fully grasp the intricacies of such company.”
Leaning in, Evelyne gave a generous view of her neckline, but with a refinement that made Callista’s earlier attempt look clumsy by comparison.
“It really isn’t difficult to adjust when one has a personality worth attending to, rather than relying on one’s neckline to command notice.
” Her smile sharpened. “I’ve always had a talent for recognizing subtleties. ”
Alaric chuckled into his glass, and the others at the table exchanged glances.
“How charming,” she retorted. “But do be careful, Evelyne. Men like Lord Bavrick don’t take kindly to being toyed with.”
“Fortunately, I have no intention of toying with anyone,” she replied coolly. “That would imply a level of interest that simply isn’t there.”
“Well,” Alaric interrupted, raising his glass, “I believe we can all agree that tonight’s company has been… entertaining. Shall we have more wine?”
Evelyne nodded as she took another sip, catching Callista’s look of sour discontent. Good.
As the evening wound down and guests began to leave, Alaric offered to escort Evelyne to the entrance hall. The gesture was simple, but she found it comforting.
“Might you come by for tea tomorrow?” Evelyne blurted before fully considering the implications of her actions.
He hesitated, studying her with that same searching look from before. It wasn’t intimidating, just deep, as if he were considering the weight of what she offered. The silence that followed prickled at her nerves.
In a rush to explain herself, she added, “It’s just… It would be nice to have tea with a friend instead of listening to my mother’s endless complaints.”
Alaric stepped closer, lowering his head as he gently took her trembling hand in his. His lips brushed softly against her knuckles. “It would be an honor to join you, Evelyne,” he said softly.
The way he spoke her name without any formal title sent a peculiar thrill through her. It felt affectionate, almost seductive, and she couldn’t suppress the blush that rose to her cheeks.
“Goodnight,” he murmured before taking his leave.
Evelyne remained where he had left her, heart pounding. The unexpected invitation, the heat of his touch, and the sincerity in his voice all left her feeling flustered and strange.