“Are you always like that with your father?” His low voice pulled her from her thoughts. His tone was oddly gentle, his words carrying a genuine curiosity and a touch of empathy.
Evelina’s heart skipped a beat at his perceptiveness. Her eyes flicked up to meet his for a moment, only to flick down once more, another sigh escaping her lips.
She hesitated, her inner turmoil reflected in the contemplative expression on her face. She wrestled with the decision to reveal her thoughts, unsure whether to divulge the complexities of her family situation.
Finally, with a subtle bite of her lip, she mustered the courage to speak, her voice tinged with resignation. “My family is complicated, Your Grace.”
His dark green eyes softened with understanding.
“Tell me more,” he urged gently.
She looked up at him, a sense of relief washing over her as she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a chance to unburden herself for the first time.
She took a deep breath before she began sharing her frustrations.
“As you can see, my father has joined me and my sister at the party today.” She paused and laughed emptily. “After neglecting his duties for so long, that is. And more so, he’s doing this only to push us towards the wealthiest suitors.”
Each word carried the weight of years of unspoken grievances, the facade of familial duty crumbling in the face of Gabriel’s attentive gaze.
As she delved deeper into her father’s neglect and indifference, her heartache became palpable. “He does not really care about us, Your Grace. I have had to do most of the work to keep our family together and care for my younger sisters,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“My father, he…” She swallowed past the lump in her throat as she struggled to reveal his last transgression. “He tends to get drunk and wager…” Her voice betrayed shame and resentment.
She felt somewhat ashamed, guilty. Despite her inner turmoil, she was making a conscious effort not to speak ill of her father, mindful that it was not proper to do so.
A moment of silence enveloped them until Gabriel’s firm voice cut through the stillness. “Your father is despicable, Miss Balfour.”
Evelina’s mouth hung open at those unexpected words, shock and uncertainty flickering in her eyes. The words hung in the air, a stark acknowledgment of the gravity of her situation, yet they felt so wrong.
Before she could gather her thoughts, his voice pierced the air again, full of irritation.
“I cannot fathom how a man would not care for his daughters and shirk his duty to them,” he stated firmly, words echoing with a sense of disbelief at such neglect.
“He… he has his reasons, I suppose,” Evelina stammered, torn between loyalty and the truth. “You do not know what he’s been through, Your Grace. He t-tries. He does what he can occasionally, and he?—”
Gabriel’s grip on her waist tightened subtly, cutting her off. “That’s enough,” he muttered. He drew her closer, almost protectively, and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to lie to me. I understand. I am a father myself, Miss Balfour. I know what the Viscount is doing.”
His proximity, his touch, sparked that same magnetic pull that Evelina couldn’t ignore. Her heart raced in her chest, the heat of the moment intensifying as she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from him.
At last, the music faded and the dance concluded.
Evelina bobbed a quick curtsy before hastening off the dance floor, her cheeks flushed from exhilaration and unease. Her thoughts spun as she made her way back to her family. However, so lost was she in the ghost of Gabriel’s touch that her steps faltered, and she looked down to hide her expression.
Before she could gather her composure, her father called her name, drawing her attention to a man standing beside him—Anthony Russ, the Earl of Oakwood, a figure of wealth and influence.
Evelina’s stomach churned with apprehension, her father’s false joviality once again grating on her nerves. With a forced cheer, he introduced her to Lord Oakwood, whose prim demeanor contrasted sharply with Gabriel’s raw authenticity.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Balfour,” Lord Oakwood greeted, his smooth voice cutting through the tension. “Your father speaks quite highly of you.”
Evelina forced a polite smile. “Thank you, My Lord. The pleasure is mine.”
As soon as the Earl excused himself after a too-lengthy conversation, Evelina turned to her father, her expression a mix of shock and dismay.
In a hushed tone, she asked him, “Have you not heard of the man’s reputation, Father?”
James, seemingly unfazed by her alarm, responded with a casual air. “And whatever do you mean, my dear?”
His nonchalance contrasted sharply with Evelina’s growing apprehension, irritating her beyond measure.
