The Wren Estate, Drawing Room – Late Morning
The decanter slammed onto the mahogany sideboard with a sharp clack, sending a shiver through the cut-glass. Henry Ashcombe stood rigid in the center of the drawing room, his face flushed with fury, the letter from their solicitor still trembling in his hand.
Graham Ashcombe lounged in an armchair near the hearth, boots crossed, looking entirely too casual in his cravatless state. He raised a brow as he poured himself a drink.
"Another letter? Honestly, Father, these men write as if losing a few pounds at the tables is grounds for treason."
"Fifty pounds, Graham." Henry's voice cracked like a whip. "Fifty pounds in one evening, and that's after the nonsense in Bath, the debt at White's, and the insult at Lord Berrick's table. Do you think I have coin falling from my ears?"
Graham took a sip, unconcerned. "It's not as dire as you make it sound. After all, Evelyn is marrying the Duke of Wycliffe. Our fortunes are about to..."
"Don't you dare." Henry cut across him, stepping forward with fire in his eyes. "Don't you dare speak of your sister's marriage like it's a bloody lottery ticket. She's tying herself to a cold, remote man for our sake, and you dare sit there swilling port like you're some heir to a golden throne!"
Graham finally looked up, blinking as if the volume surprised him. "It's not just for our sake. She could do worse, you know. The man's a duke, Father."
Henry stared at his son with something close to despair. "You are my son, Graham. You bear my name, my legacy. And yet you gamble like a dockside drunk and smirk at the wreckage you leave behind. You think the Duke's coffers will erase the shame you heap on this family? Think again."
Graham shrugged, swirling his drink. "Well, if he's so high and mighty, I'm sure he won't mind paying off a few debts to keep his new in-laws respectable."
"Get out." Henry yelled
"What?", Graham said,taken aback.
"Out!" Henry repeated,"Out of my sight, before I strike you like the insolent child you are!"
For a moment, Graham looked truly affronted. But he stood, drink still in hand, and gave a mocking bow.
"As you wish, Father. I'll be in the stables if the kingdom collapses in my absence."
Henry slumped into a chair as his son sauntered away, head pounding, hands trembling with the fury he could no longer wield.
The Garden – Same Afternoon
A breeze moved through the Ashcombe estate's half-wild garden, rustling the tall lavender and the last of the summer roses. Evelyn sat on the wooden swing suspended from the ancient elm, her gloved hands gripping the ropes loosely. Her skirts were pale lilac, her hair pinned with more precision than feeling.
She rocked gently back and forth, not quite swinging but just enough to feel the air move.
Her mind wandered, not to the duke or the upcoming fittings or even her father's moods but to the before.
Devon.
Salt air and sketchbooks. A young man's laughter as he chased the wind down the cliffs. The warm press of his lips on hers under the ruined archway near the sea.
"You'll never marry a man who doesn't know how to kiss like a poet", he'd said while holding her tightly.
She exhaled shakily, a lone tear of heartache slide down her cheek.
"Well, you were wrong. Here I am. About to marry a man who barely speaks".
Footsteps approached. Soft ones, hesitant.
"Miss Evelyn?" A voice called out.
It was Cora, her maid, doughy-faced, warm-eyed, and always slightly out of breath.
Evelyn didn't turn. "Yes?"
"Post just arrived. A letter and… this."
Cora handed her a creamy envelope embossed in gold. Evelyn took it without interest, though her eyes narrowed slightly at the seal.
Lady Honora Belgrave.
She opened it. Inside was a card, thick with perfume and polished charm:
"You are cordially invited to a gathering at Belgrave House... An evening of music and merriment to celebrate the end of the Season..."
Cora leaned in curiously. "Another party?"
Evelyn said nothing for a moment.
"She always invites me. Especially when she's hoping I'll say no."
Cora blinked. "You mean Lady Honora?"
"Mm." Evelyn's fingers toyed with the card. "She's been smiling at me with knives in her teeth since we were children."
Cora didn't quite understand, but she gave a sympathetic nod.
"Will you go?"
Evelyn looked up at the house. Her father would expect her to.
And Lady Honora would be watching.
"Yes," Evelyn said softly. "I think I shall."
She stood, smoothing her skirt, the invitation still in hand.
Evelyn Wren walked back toward the drawing room with her chin lifted, preparing to play the part expected of her.
Belgrave House – Grand Ballroom, Evening
The ballroom glittered beneath the weight of chandeliers, the air perfumed with crushed roses and the mingled scents of powdered nobility. It was the height of the season, and the room buzzed with the elegant hum of music, laughter, and speculation though no topic sparked more hushed whispers than the recent announcement of Lady Evelyn's engagement to the reclusive and powerful Duke of Wycliffe.
Evelyn stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, letting her presence settle into the room. Heads turned. Whispers rose like wind over tall grass.
She was dressed in ivory satin trimmed with seed pearls, her dark hair swept up in a crown of twists and pinned with a single silver comb. The Wren family had sold her mother's rubies the week prior, but Evelyn wore her dignity like armor.
Honora Belgrave spotted her instantly.
Across the ballroom, draped in coral silk and surrounded by admirers, Honora's smile faltered just long enough to betray something unkind. Her fan twitched once. Then she recovered, radiant.
"Evelyn!" she trilled, moving forward with the effortless grace of practiced charm. "You came. I was certain you'd be too busy with… I suppose, wedding plans?"
Evelyn smiled, cool and immaculate. "It's not every day I get invited to such a gracious celebration."
Their cheeks brushed in a mock kiss, cold as porcelain.
"You're practically a duchess already," Honora went on, linking arms with her. "I do hope it won't make you forget your little people."
"Not at all. After all, I grew up in the same nursery as you, didn't I?"
Honora's smile cracked, only slightly.