Eloise’s stomach tightened.
“I will write to me father,” Mairead went on. “I will ask him to betroth me elsewhere.”
The words struck harder than Eloise expected, sending a sharp wave of panic through her.
This is wrong. She is givin’ up her future because of a lie.After I leave, James very well may marry her. But I cannae tell her that… can I?
Eloise’s grip tightened around her cup.
“Are ye well?” Mairead asked suddenly, her brow furrowing. “Ye look pale.”
Eloise blinked, pulling herself back. “I didnae sleep well,” she said quickly.
Mairead nodded in understanding. “Because James is away?” she asked.
Eloise hesitated. “Perhaps,” she said.
Mairead’s expression softened further. “Daenae worry,” she said gently. “He is a strong man. He returns unharmed every time he leaves for inspections.”
Eloise swallowed, her thoughts tangling further. “Aye,” she said softly. But the words did little to comfort her.
Because as she sat there, listening to Mairead speak with quiet acceptance, Eloise felt the weight of it all pressing down upon her. The lie. The feelings she could not name. The future she was already meant to leave behind. And for the first time, she wondered if the greatest danger was not Laird Drummond… but the truth she was hiding within these very walls…because it could damage so many innocent people, like Mairead.
The gardens lay quiet beneath the soft afternoon light as Eloise walked beside Beatrice. Eloise kept her gaze forward, though her thoughts churned restlessly beneath her calm expression.
Beatrice glanced at her more than once, her sharp eyes missing little. “So then,” Beatrice began, her tone bright but probing, “what preparations have been made for the weddin’?”
Eloise stiffened slightly at the question, though she forced a small smile.
“Preparations will begin once James returns from his inspections,” Eloise replied, her voice measured.
Beatrice lifted a brow. “Have the invitations been sent out?” she pressed.
Eloise shook her head. “Nae yet,” she said. “We thought it best to wait.”
Beatrice tilted her head, studying her cousin closely. “And yer mother and father, have ye told them to come as of yet?” she asked.
Eloise hesitated only a moment. “I will send word soon,” she said, her tone carefully controlled.
Beatrice’s lips pressed together, unconvinced but not unkind. “Well, I can help ye, if ye like,” she offered.
Eloise nodded gratefully. “Thank ye, Bea,” she said softly. “I would appreciate that.”
They walked in silence for a time, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Eloise felt the weight of it pressing down again, the lies, the expectations, the fragile balance she was barely holding together.
Beatrice slowed, then stopped entirely. “I cannae pretend any longer, cousin,” she said suddenly.
Eloise turned, startled by the seriousness in her voice.
“What do ye mean?” Eloise asked, though her heart had already begun to pound.
Beatrice met her gaze directly. “I ken that somethin' is wrong here,” she said. “I just daenae ken what it is.”
Eloise’s breath caught, her composure faltering at last. The truth rose sharp and urgent within her, pressing against her lips.
“Beatrice…” Eloise began, her voice trembling. She swallowed hard. “I… I…” The world tilted beneath her feet, the garden blurring into indistinct shapes. A strange lightness swept through her, followed by a sudden, crushing darkness. And then she fell.
When Eloise opened her eyes again, the world returned in fragments, soft light, the faint crackle of a fire. She blinked slowly, her head throbbing as she tried to focus.
