EVELINA
The carriage stopped before the Marlowe estate. The windows glowed bright, and music drifted out to the courtyard. Evelina stepped down alone, her gown sweeping against the stone. She lifted her chin.
The hall opened into a flood of light. Chandeliers burned high above. The floor shone with polish, each step of dancers reflecting like glass. Laughter and strings filled the air, yet beneath it hummed whispers.
Selina Marlowe stood near the entrance, poised in silk the color of wine. Her smile was graceful, her eyes sharp. She moved from guest to guest, her hand light, her voice even. When Evelina entered, Selina's gaze found her at once. The smile remained, though the weight in her eyes pressed heavy.
"Lady Everleigh," Selina said, smooth as satin. "You honor us tonight."
Evelina inclined her head. "Your invitation was kind. I thank you."
Selina's hand brushed the air in dismissal. "Kindness is wasted unless shared." She guided her toward the ballroom, but her gaze lingered on Evelina with a quiet heat.
The room stilled. Evelina felt it. The whispers swirled low but clear.
There she is.
Alone.
Look who claims her.
The crowd parted slightly as a figure approached. Tall, broad-shouldered, in black lined with silver. The Grand Duke Montclair.
"Lady Evelina," he said, bow deep enough to be respectful but full of claim. "Would you grant me the opening dance?"
The music paused, waiting. All eyes pressed in.
Evelina's voice was steady. "I would be honored."
His hand found hers, warm and sure. They stepped onto the floor. The strings swelled.
Their movements were measured, practiced, almost ceremonial. Alistair led with control. Evelina followed with grace, but she felt the weight of every eye. Murmurs rose at the edges of the room. His hand firm at her waist. Her gaze lifted, fixed forward, refusing to falter.
"You are steady," Alistair said, his voice low enough for her alone.
Evelina's eyes did not move from the circle of nobles. "I must be."
The dance turned. The steps drew them close, then apart again. She felt the pressure of his presence, the certainty with which he carried himself. The dance ended with final precision. Applause rose, light but sharp.
Alistair bowed over her hand. "You move as though born for command."
Her answer was quiet. "I move as though all of you are watching."
The bow was brief, and he stepped away. Another figure approached. Baron Leopold. His manner lighter, though his eyes keen.
"Lady Evelina," he said with a smile that did not hide its intent. "May I?"
She dipped her head. "Of course, my lord."
The dance began. Leopold's steps were swift, his hold polite but edged with purpose. He spoke as they moved.
"The Grand Duke is bold. He does not hide his interest."
Evelina's lips curved faintly, though her words were cool. "Nor do you."
He gave a small laugh. "Then we are alike. Except my interest is not in power. Only in truth. And you, Lady Everleigh, are a truth worth pursuing."
The music turned sharp. Evelina kept her expression smooth. His intent was plain. He danced with precision, yet pressed his case in each turn of the floor.
The song ended quickly. Leopold bowed. "I thank you."
Before she could retreat, another shadow fell across them. Lucian Ravenscroft. His presence was steady, his voice certain.
"My turn," he said simply.
Leopold hesitated, but the authority in Lucian's tone left little ground. He inclined his head and stepped aside.
Lucian offered his hand. Evelina met his gaze. Something flickered there, quiet but strong. She placed her hand in his, and the music began again.
Their steps matched without strain. He moved with precision, yet each turn carried ease, as though they had danced before. Evelina felt her pulse quicken, not from the eyes upon her but from the steadiness of his hold.
"You should not claim me so openly," she said, her voice soft.
"I did not claim," Lucian answered. His eyes stayed on hers. "I asked. You accepted."
The dance spun them through the crowd. She saw the watching faces, but they blurred at the edges. The only clarity was his gaze, steady and unshaken.
"You are not afraid of whispers?" Evelina asked.
His reply came low. "I fear little that does not touch you."
Her chest tightened. The music swelled, the floor shrinking to their measured steps.
She drew a breath. "You risk much."
"And you?"
"I risk more."
The song slowed. Their steps eased. The dance ended with silence before the applause returned. Lucian bowed, but his eyes lingered. Evelina's breath caught, though her face remained calm.
From across the ballroom, Selina watched. Her smile held, but her eyes cut sharp.
The music shifted. Conversations rose again. The crowd turned to other dances, other faces. Yet Evelina knew the balance had changed.
Alistair had claimed her first. Leopold had followed with intent. Lucian had closed with certainty. Each choice, each step, had set eyes upon her. She felt it settle on her shoulders, heavy and clear.
She withdrew from the floor, her hand resting against her skirts. Her heart was steady, yet inside it raced.
Selina passed near, her tone smooth, her glance sharp. "You dance beautifully, Lady Evelina. Some men seem to forget the music when near you."
Evelina smiled with equal calm. "Then they must listen harder."
Selina's brow lifted slightly, her smile deepening, unreadable. She moved on, greeting another guest.
The night carried forward. Music filled the air again, laughter layering over whispers. Yet the whispers now had a sharper edge.
Evelina knew the eyes of the court would not forget what they had seen. Alistair, Leopold, Lucian. Each had drawn her into view. Each had left their mark.
She stood at the edge of the ballroom, the light of chandeliers glinting above her. She drew a breath, steady, her thoughts clear.
Her path had turned. No step could undo it.
She was caught between Montclair's power, Whitcombe's ambition, and Ravenscroft's quiet fire.
The music swelled again, but Evelina no longer heard it. Her mind pressed forward.
If this was the close of one act, the next would demand choice. And choice would demand strength.
She would give both.