“You are asking the wrong person, for I am no great expert of fashion either,” Hugo said with a laugh. “Evelyn, you know your friend the best: which color do you think suits her better?”
He watched Evelyn’s throat bob as she lifted her head, that sense of a bubbling vibrancy having dimmed to barely a roil. She looked awkward and uncomfortable, her posture stiff.
“Red has always been your color, Selina,” she answered, regardless.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo noticed a flash of irritation pass across Selina’s face, a pointed look passing between the two women. In that instant, the rest of Evelyn’s vigor faded, her entire demeanor suddenly that of a defeated woman.
“I think I shall take in some fresh air,” she said abruptly, and did not wait for a response before heading out of the shop, having chosen nothing at all, not even a ribbon.
If Selina thought that this was the way to win his affection, she was sorely mistaken. He did not like to see anyone’s spirit crushed, least of all Evelyn’s. Indeed, why was it that everyone around Evelyn seemed determined to make her feel small and insignificant? Hugo had seen his brothers diminish her, and now her supposed best friend?
I suppose I was no different in the beginning, he mused, for when Evelyn and Selina had stood side by side at the opera, and even before then, at Frances’ ball, he too had overlooked the former. He had not noticed how pretty she was, when compared to Selina’s obvious beauty, but the more time he spent with Evelyn, the more he actuallylookedat her, the more extraordinarily beautiful she became. Almost like a reward for taking the time to observe her closely, like seeing a rare flower unfurl.
His gaze lingered on Evelyn while Selina chattered in his ear about something he was not listening to. And as he watched,a familiar gentleman appeared beside Evelyn on the street, bowing low to her, at least showing some honor this time.
“Goodness, do you suppose I should go and save her?” Selina asked, following Hugo’s line of sight. “The poor thing.”
Hugo took a steadying breath. “He is her betrothed, is he not? Why would you need to go and save her?”
And what do you mean ‘poor thing’?
“Because she did not choose him,” Selina explained, pressing her arm against his. “He is just some baron that her father chose for her because she had not managed to find a husband herself.Ido not think that three years out in society can be deemed too many to find oneself a husband, but my father is rather more lenient than hers.”
Hugo’s brow creased, his heart doing strange things. “She did not choose him?”
“Heavens, no. I have to say, I do not care much for her father,” Selina replied. “He treats her terribly. Not cruel or brutal, but… I imagine that depends on your perspective.Iwould think it awfully cruel if my father ignored me and belittled me, but she does not think as I do. She thinks that, as long as she is tolerated, then all is well. Tragic, really, when she is so lovely.”
“Yes… tragic,” Hugo murmured, a muscle twitching close to his eye.
Was that why he felt so drawn to protect her? Had he somehow sensed that they were more alike than they seemed? He thought of her brothers and how desperately he had wished to punch them, that same feeling coursing through his veins as he thought about her father. How could anyone treat her so poorly?
“She is too timid,” Selina continued. “That has always been her difficulty. If she were to fight back, perhaps her family would take note, but she… does not seem capable of it. She withdraws instead of standing up for herself. It is such a pity.”
But she has never been timid with me,Hugo wanted to say, but that would mean revealing the version of Evelyn that he had come to appreciate. Perhaps even Selina did not know that side of her and, if that was true, he felt strangely compelled to keep it to himself.
“So she does not want to be married to him?” Hugo asked.
A prickle of irritation flared inside him as he watched the baron lean in closer to Evelyn, the sensation simmering more vigorously as he saw her try to take a step back from the man. If it had been Hugo out there, attempting to get too close to her, she would surely have told him to back away.
Why could she not do the same with the baron?
“She does not speak to me about it,” Selina admitted, “but I doubt it very much. All you have to do is look at her to know she has no interest in the man whatsoever. Yet, as I said, he isher father’s choice. Maybe she believes this will gain her father’s respect, at last, though I think she would be mistaken.”
Hugo had to look away from the scene outside before he did something he might regret. It was not his place to intervene, regardless of how much he suddenly wanted to, felt compelled to.
Yet, he had to wonder if what he had said to the baron the other night had had an undesirable effect, the lackluster gentleman now investing all of his attention upon Evelyn.
“I should pay for Octavia’s things,” Hugo said gruffly, and made his way to the counter.
There, shielded behind glass, winking up at him as it caught a shaft of sunlight, was the most beautiful necklace. Upon two delicate silver strands, blue jewels gleamed, some darker, some lighter, resembling colorful dew caught upon morning grass. It was not the most ornate of necklaces, but exquisite in its relative simplicity.
“And this,” he said, gesturing to the piece.
The shopkeeper’s eyes lit up. “A splendid choice, Your Grace. The young lady is very lucky indeed.”
Hugo glanced back over his shoulder, though his gaze did not move toward his sister. Rather, his eyes flitted straight to the radiant woman on the street outside the shop, thinking thatthose colors, those blues and greens, could never suit anyone better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
