Aurelia sighed. “Mother, perhaps we should forgo breakfast and summon Seraphine straight away. She’s going to need extra time with this one.”
Lady Duskwood finally looked up from her book. “Let’s have tea first, shall we? No need to overwhelm your sister so early in the day.” Her eyes flicked toward Evelyne. “Although, Aurelia isn’t entirely wrong. Seraphine will certainly have her work cut out for her.”
Evelyne placed a hand over her heart, feigning shock. “So it’s a grand scheme, then? The two of you conspiring against me.”
“Of course,” Aurelia replied. “It’s what we are here for.”
With a quiet snort, Evelyne waved off the comment and made her way toward the dining room, rubbing her temples, bracing herself for what was coming. The morning had only just begun, and the battle for propriety was already underway.
The dining room was perpetually an impeccable display of wealth and refinement. The oak table stretched across the room. White linen drapedits surface, and a golden centerpiece gleamed at its heart. Crystal and fine china were set with meticulous care, reflecting her mother’s unyielding demand for perfection.
Evelyne entered the room slowly, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Her mother and Aurelia were already at the breakfast table, moving with practiced rhythm. Celeste kissed her husband’s forehead before taking her seat, her posture straight as a blade as she surveyed the neatly set table.
Evelyne stared at her mother, admiring the very image of elegance. Her burgundy gown proclaimed her rank, and every strand of silver-gray hair was neatly tucked beneath a lace cap.
“Mauri, please bring us some tea. The strongest brew you have,” Lady Duskwood instructed. The young house servant nodded briskly and slipped into the kitchen.
Evelyne moved toward her usual seat at the table, acutely aware of her mother’s assessing gaze brushing over her like a fine-toothed comb before returning to the flawless breakfast spread.
As she passed her younger brother, Evelyne lightly brushed his shoulder, drawing his eyes—golden like hers—from the book he was absorbed in. Though Cillian had reached twenty, Evelyne felt a protective, almost maternal instinct toward him. He had always been different, drawn more to books and quiet study than the loud company of others his age. His sharp mind and dry sense of humor were treasures few ever saw, hidden behind his reserved nature. Their father, Lord Aron, often pushed him toward duties expected of an heir, like hunting, fencing, and politics, but none of it seemed to interest him. And Evelyne admired that about him. He was unshakably himself, never bothered by expectations that might weigh others down, and it only deepened her instinct to look out for him, even when she knew he didn’t truly need it.
A faint smile pulled at the corners of Cillian’s mouth. His tousled brown hair and slightly rumpled clothes spoke to his disregard for the strict decorum of the Duskwood household, though his kindness usually made it easy to overlook.
“Rough morning?” he murmured.
Evelyne nodded, a trace of a smile curving her lips. “I’ve yet to have tea. I’m not human without it,” she whispered back.
Cillian huffed a soft laugh and returned to his book.
Lady Duskwood’s voice cut through the hushed morning chatter. “Evelyne, as you know, the society luncheon is this afternoon.”
Evelyne inhaled slowly, bracing herself. “Yes, Mother.”
“You are twenty-two now, well past the age of debut, and must represent this family with the grace and dignity expected of a Duskwood,” her mother replied, voice tight. “Which means your posture, speech, and every gesture must reflect our standing.”
Aurelia leaned forward. “And don’t forget the blush pink on your lips. It’s subtle, yet inviting. And your smile should be warm but restrained. And your eyes—”
“Aurelia,” Evelyne interrupted, her patience thinning. “I believe I can manage, thank you.”
Her sister arched a perfectly shaped brow. “I’m only trying to help.”
Evelyne leaned back, crossing her arms. “Speaking of appearances, where is Leopold? Still preoccupied with hisimportantwork?”
Aurelia’s smile faltered briefly before she recovered. “Yes, he is. His responsibilities in Rosewyth are vast. You wouldn’t understand how demanding his position is.”
“Of course,” Evelyne responded, her tone honeyed with sarcasm. “What a blessing to have such a devoted husband.”
Aurelia’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on her napkin, though her expression remained neutral.
“That’s enough, ladies,” Celeste interjected, and the room stilled instantly. “Evelyne, you will ensure your presentation today is without flaw. And Cillian,” she added without turning to him, “do not enable your sister’s nonsense.”
Cillian turned to Evelyne, mischief glinting in his golden eyes. Without a word, he tapped her foot under the table. A minimal gesture, but one that said everything. Evelyne’s lips twitched, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. As the conversation shifted back to the day’s plans, she took comfort in his quiet presence.
Evelyne adjusted her posture, sitting straighter as her mother’s critical stare settled on her. She had stepped beyond the age by which women of her standing were expected to be brides. To her mother, this was an oversight, a failure to be rectified. To Evelyne, it was simply her reality. What she could not reconcile was why men were free of such scrutiny, their futures untouched by the ticking clock that bound young women.
Her sister had followed a much different path. Their parents had been cautious with Aurelia’s prospects, unwilling to accept anything less than perfection for the family’s eldest daughter. That diligence had paid off when Leopold entered the picture. He was handsome and charming. His white-blonde hair was always perfectly kept, and years of successful trade with the southern lands had earned him both wealth and respect. It was easy for Evelyne to see why her sister was so captivated. He was the ideal match, a seamless blend of ambition and power. Their mother had been thrilled when Leopold asked for Aurelia’s hand, and even their father had given his approval without hesitation. But Evelyne couldn’t help but wonder whether Aurelia truly loved him or had simply fallen in love with the idea of him.
That life was never meant for Evelyne—or at least, it never felt that way. At nineteen, she’d been expected to step into the world of court: attending grand balls, mingling at glittering gatherings, and entertaining the advances of eager suitors. Her late-spring birthday had conveniently delayed her debut by a year, offering a brief reprieve. But just as her time finally came, everything changed.
