How dare she presume to know what was best for Eliza? And yet… hadn’t she accomplished in mere days what he had failed to accomplish in years? He had heard Eliza playing, seen the joy on her face—rare occurrences in this somber household.
With a frustrated sigh, he dropped into his chair, running a hand through his dark hair. The image of Miss Balfour’s flushed cheeks and determined eyes flashed through his mind, and he found himself grudgingly impressed by her spirit.
She had stood up to him, the feared Duke of Dunmore, without flinching.
“Insufferable woman,” he muttered, even though a part of him acknowledged the truth in her words.
He reached for the ledger he had abandoned earlier, determined to lose himself in the familiar world of numbers and accounts. But try as he might, he couldn’t shake the image of Miss Balfour from his mind, nor the sound of Eliza’s playing from his ears.
For the first time in years, Gabriel felt as though someone had seen through him. It was an unsettling feeling, yet it was strangely exhilarating.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was the Duke of Dunmore, for heaven’s sake. He couldn’t allow a mere tutor to discomfit him so.
And yet, as the afternoon wore on, he found his thoughts drifting again and again to the scene in the music room. To Eliza’s playing, to Miss Balfour’s challenging gaze. To the realization that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong in his approach to fatherhood.
It was not too late to learn from a mistake, he hoped. He would make an effort to listen to Eliza play, to show her the encouragement that Miss Balfour seemed to think was so important.
But what if the years of emotional distance had already done irreparable damage to his relationship with Eliza?
The thoughtterrifiedhim.
As night fell over Dunmore House, the Duke remained in his study, grappling with the realization that the carefully ordered world he had built for himself was beginning to crumble—all because of a headstrong tutor… and the soft notes of a piano.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the drawing room of Elderglen Manor as Evelina sat in her favorite armchair, a book of poetry resting in her lap.
Louisa reclined on the chaise nearby, engrossed in her own novel. The peaceful silence between them was a rare luxury in a house filled with five sisters.
Evelina glanced up from her book, her gaze settling on Louisa’s furrowed brow. “I see Mr. Wordsworth has captured your attention once again, dear sister,” she remarked with a gentle smile.
Louisa’s eyes remained fixed on the page as she replied, “Indeed, Evelina. His words paint such vivid pictures in my mind. Listen to this passage.I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils…” She looked up, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Is it not beautiful?”
Evelina nodded, her smile widening. “It is lovely, Louisa. Mr. Wordsworth has a gift for capturing the beauty of nature in his verses.”
As Louisa began to recite another poem, Evelina’s mind wandered to their family’s precarious financial situation. She was pulled from her thoughts by a gentle knock at the door.
Mrs. Higgins, their housekeeper, entered the room with a concerned expression on her weathered face. “Begging your pardon, Miss Balfour,” she said, curtsying slightly. “May I have a word with you in private?”
Evelina’s brow furrowed, but she nodded and rose from her seat. “Of course, Mrs. Higgins. Louisa, please excuse me for a moment.”
She followed the housekeeper into the hallway, closing the drawing room door behind her.
“What is the matter, Mrs. Higgins?” she asked in a low voice.
Mrs. Higgins wrung her hands, her eyes darting around nervously. “I fear I have overheard some distressing gossip, Miss. I would not normally give credence to such talk, but given the circumstances…” she trailed off, looking pained.
Evelina’s heart began to race. “Please, Mrs. Higgins, do not keep me in suspense. What have you heard?”
Mrs. Higgins leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “It is said that your father has… has gambled away one of your sisters’ dowries.”
The words hit Evelina like a physical blow. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. “Are you certain?” she choked out.
The housekeeper nodded gravely. “I fear it is true, Miss. The villagers say that he lost a great sum at the gaming tables in London last week. They say it was enough to cover one of the young ladies’ dowries.”
Evelina closed her eyes, fighting back the wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm her.
After a moment, she squared her shoulders and opened her eyes, her expression resolute. “Thank you for informing me, Mrs. Higgins. I shall address this matter immediately.”
