“Far more attractive than her ancient husband. I’d have poisoned him if he’d been mine.”
The women chuckled, and Evelyn clenched her fists.
Taking a deep breath, she rounded the corner and stepped into their midst.
“Ladies,” she said coolly.
They looked at each other, their faces paling beneath white pearl powder.
She didn’t know them, but there were only so many duchesses and princesses in the realm. Therefore, these women were beneath her in station and were obliged to curtsy.
She tilted her head, puckered her lips, and waited.
“You have grace,” one of them muttered—likely the one who had joked about poisoning her husband.
All three curtsied.
“As your superior,” Evelyn said crisply, “I feel I must remind you of proper decorum. If you’re going to gossip about someone in public, do ensure no one hears you. Especially not the person you’re gossiping about. Especially if they are several ranks above you.”
She turned and walked past them.
A few steps later, she stopped and spun around.
The women were still standing there, as though struck by lightning.
Then Evelyn walked on—past the café door, past her aunt Eugenia, who called after her, and past several curious onlookers—until she reached the exotic gardens, where parrots squawked in their metal cages.
Behind one such cage, she sank to her knees and wept. Wept so hard that her entire body shook.
All she had wanted was to be free.
Now, she was the laughingstock of the ton, and her sisters’ futures might be at stake along with her own.
CHAPTER 18
The gentle clink of glass and the low murmur of idle conversation filled the richly appointed drawing room, a space too elegant to allow for true comfort. The chandeliers gleamed above them, catching the firelight and turning it into a hundred tiny stars. Nathaniel sat across from Philip Jones, Marquess of Forbarry, who had just finished his second gin. The Marquess set down his glass with an air of finality and regarded Nathaniel with an expression of mild expectation.
“Well then,” Philip said at last, his voice tinged with amusement. “Is that all, Your Grace? Is this truly all you wished to speak to me about?”
Nathaniel folded his hands together, steepling his fingers. “It is… largely,” he said. “But—pray—are you quite certain I cannot interest you in a formal introduction? Her Grace is, beneath the noise and nonsense, a most entertaining young lady.”
Philip’s brow arched slowly. “So I’ve heard. Quite entertaining. If the tales of her performer’s suits are anything to go by.”
Nathaniel exhaled through his nose and leaned back, trying to keep his composure. Why did she always make things harder than they needed to be? Why did she drive away everyone who came near her with a single look or some scandalous comment, as if she wanted to be alone forever?
He knew, of course, that part of it was a performance—a shield. But shields still had consequences. If she continued, she would lose even the slimmest chances of securing a match—and her future would become that much more precarious.
But then again, maybe that was the goal. Evelyn had always been clever, and not always for the better. She’d practically ousted Lady Appleton from the house. Nathaniel wouldn’t have put it past her to sabotage her marital prospects on purpose, hoping to be rid of them all.
Still, she must have known she could not live here indefinitely without funds or a purpose. Surely, she must see that?
And worst of all, the rumors had begun to turn sharp. People whispered not just about her, but aboutthem. About their arrangement. About why no suitor ever stayed, and what exactly transpired within the Duke’s grand, echoing house.
The truth was, Nathaniel found himself caring less and less about what people whispered. Each failed introduction, each gentleman who departed with polite excuses and knowing looks,left him feeling not frustrated but… relieved. The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
“She is still very young,” Nathaniel said, trying again. “And she was understandably overwhelmed by the abrupt shift in her life. The arrangements made for her… the loss of my uncle. It is not surprising that she was less than forthcoming at first. But she has changed—she wishes now to find someone respectable. A man with kindness and strength. A man such as yourself.”
Philip gave a slow smile. “And yet… if even half of what I’ve heard is true, she already has a gentleman in mind. One she perhaps has already chosen.”
