"Have they lost their minds? How can I be expected to marry that girl? Are they mad" he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Across from him, his friend **Lord Henry Asterlig** chuckled, swirling his drink. "Well, she's a little dull, perhaps—but dull can be… hmm.... peaceful. Less trouble than those sharp-tongued marriage candidates you keep avoiding."
Adrian shot him a look. "Peaceful? She's practically from another century. Did you *see* her? The gown—those sleeves—good God, it looked like something her grandmother might have worn."
Henry tried to suppress another laugh, but failed. "Don't exaggerate., it wasn't *that* bad—"
"It was *embarrassing*," Adrian interrupted sharply. "And her hair—who still wears it that way? Does she not own a mirror? Or a single ounce of fashion sense?" He leaned back, blased. "And when she spoke, Henry—she wouldn't stop. Like she'd never talked to anyone before?"
His friend finally grinned. "Well, you deserve this, you know. They gave you years to choose, but you refused every woman they suggested. Even Lady Roseé. Oh, and by the way—I still hate you for this "
Adrian's jaw tightened at the name. Lady Roseé had been beautiful, clever, and perfectly suited to the image of the Vale family—but he'd found her insufferable. Her ambition had been too transparent, her compliments too calculated and She's pretty irritating,.
"This isn't about Lady Roseé," he said curtly. "It's about the royal council meddling in what should have been *my* decision. They see a noble name and a rich dowry and assume compatibility will bloom out of thin air. And by thin air, I mean this—ugh, she's just… too… Aah!"
Henry raised a brow. "And yet, you never gave anyone the chance to prove otherwise."
Adrian staring into his glass. "This marriage—this girl—it's a trap. I can already feel it."
Henry sighed, leaning back. "You're too harsh. Maybe she's just… sheltered. You might find she's more than what you see at first glance."
Adrian's lips curved in a humorless smile. "Sheltered, yes. Naïve, perhaps. But a wife should be a reflection of her husband's standing. When she walks beside me, I don't want people whispering."
.
"And if she makes you happy by bringing money… she has a giant dowry, you know?"
Adrian looked up, startled.
"Money isn't the point. I do have money—I'm a nephew of a king. Do you really think I need it?"
The words hung in the air, heavy and hollow.
Henry gave a soft chuckle.
"Spoken like a true royal, wow."Henry glanced at him over his drink.
Adrian thought of Evelyn's uncertain smile, her hands twisting nervously in her lap, her voice trembling but hopeful.
"What are you thinking?" Henry asked.
"You're thinking of her, aren't you? How romantic," he added with a laugh.
"Shut up," Adrian muttered. "She's too innocent for me. She could ruin her life just by standing next to me in society. Or—with that style of hers—she could ruin my reputation too."
Henry smirked. "You fancy man, but you're right, my friend—she could. But think of it this way: she's so docile, like a dog. She'd do anything you say. She could handle your affairs, your work… you could still have your fun with other women. I doubt she'd even protest. And if you fall for someone else, well—divorce her."
"You're such a bastard," Adrian said flatly.
"Well, that's my duty to you, my lord," Henry replied with a mocking bow.
Adrian smiled faintly and looked toward the window. "I need to go—they've arrived."
"That's early… or maybe I'm drinking too much," Henry said, squinting at his glass.
Adrian glanced at him, took a breath, grabbed his jacket, and gave Henry a light tap on the head.
"Drinking too much, my friend," he said, and left.