Chapter 16
The steady rhythm of rain against the drawing room’s tall windows cast a soothing lull over the space, the glass panes blurring with rivulets of water as Evelyne turned the soft pages of her favorite novel. The storm had come just as Vera Stonebridge had predicted, its arrival ruining any hope of clear skies for the evening’s grand ball. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, and inside, the manor was alive with frantic energy.
Her mother had been in a whirlwind since dawn, a flurry of silk and determination as she directed the servants to move the decor and festivities indoors. Though Evelyne hadn’t seen her enter the drawing room, she had felt her pass by no fewer than five times in the last ten minutes. The thud of hurried footsteps against polished floors, the clipped commands—
“The wreaths must go near the grand staircase!”
“Why are there no candles in the receiving hall?”
“The violinist should stand near the east wing! No, no—there!”
Evelyne bit her lip to stifle a giggle as her mother’s voice faded into the distance, barking another order about the floors still needing mopping. She had never seen her in such a state. The lingering excitement from last night’s dinner clung to her like a delicate mist. Alaric had sought her father’s blessing for Evelyne’s hand in marriage just before the meal, and her mother’s elation had been undeniable as she shared the news atthe table. For a fleeting moment, Evelyne could have sworn she saw tears welling in her eyes.
Aurelia, overcome with emotion, had pulled Evelyne into an embrace, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Oh, I’m just so happy for you!” she’d whispered thrice before dinner ended.
Her father, always a quiet observer, had seemed relieved. He ate at his usual steady pace, nodding in approval and offering the occasional small smile.
Cillian had gone to his room before the announcement was made. Evelyne tried to see him after dinner, but when he didn’t answer her knock, his young red-haired servant appeared, shaking her head with a quiet, guilty look.
“He doesn’t want to see anyone, my lady. He’s been telling everyone to leave him alone all day.”
Evelyne had frowned, finding it odd, and knocked again.
“Cillian, it’s me.”
Silence lingered before he finally responded.
“Not now.”
His voice was different—tense, guarded. So she left him alone.
Now, as the manor bustled around her, filled with the rush of servants, the flicker of candlelight, and the distant notes of a violin being tuned, she tried to focus on her book, using it as a shield against the rising anticipation that coiled inside her. But the house was too alive, too restless, and all too much.
Sighing, she closed the novel and returned to her chambers, where she knew she could find quiet. And indeed, there it was. A peaceful hush, broken only by the steady patter of rain against the window. She curled up by the sill and took a moment to breathe.
Aureliaand Seraphine swept in a few hours later, bringing the scent of fresh roses and lavender.
“It’s time!” Aurelia chirped, excitement lacing her words.
Seraphine followed with a half-smile, holding up a gown that shimmered in the dim light.
Evelyne barely had a moment to protest before they ushered her toward the vanity, working with practiced hands to prepare her. Her hair was pinned back on one side, fastened with an ornate pearl clip that glistened like dew. Her gown—a breathtaking rose gold threaded with silver embroidery—hugged her waist, the floral lace sleeves draping delicately over her shoulders. The back dipped into an elegant plunge, revealing just enough to add an air of regality. Dangling pearl earrings, a perfect match to the clip, completed the look.
She was no longer just Evelyne. Tonight, she was a betrothed woman, about to step into a world where she would be seen—truly seen—for the first time on a man’s arm.
Her heart fluttered, caught between nervousness and happiness. Tonight, everything would change.
***
Rain hammered relentlessly against the towering windows of Duskwood Manor; the storm outside contrasted starkly with the opulence and warmth within. Guests hurried inside, shaking droplets from their cloaks, while their guards dutifully shielded the ladies’ elaborate gowns and carefully pinned curls with umbrellas. The scent of candle wax and fresh roses filled the air, mingling with the crisp breeze that crept through the grand entrance.
The ballroom was alive with a symphony of sounds: the murmur of conversation, the delicate clinking of crystal glasses, the soft strains of a violin weaving a melody through the space.
Embroidered silksshimmered as noble figures glided across the floors, unconcerned by the thunder growling in the distance, their jeweled adornments catching the light.
Evelyne had been waiting for this moment all day, yet now that it was here, she could scarcely believe it was real. Alaric, her dearest friend, the man who had stolen her breath with a kiss, had askedherto marry him. The thought left her lightheaded with the enormity of it all.
She moved through the evening, soaking in the attention and accepting congratulations from noble families eager to gain favor with the powerful union of the Duskwoods and Stonebridges.
