The journey to this place, the introductions, had all left Evelyn utterly drained.
By the time she stepped into the marble-tiled bath chamber attached to her rooms, steam had already begun to gather on the mirrors. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting amber light across the floor. Delicate rose petals floated atop the water, and the scent of crushed blossoms filled the air; sweet, heady, with just a hint of citrus.
Evelyn let her robe slip off her shoulders and sank into the heat with a slow sigh, the warm water lapping at her skin and curling around her like an embrace.
She leaned back, eyes half-closed, and let her head rest against the rolled linen at the edge of the tub. Her hair floated in the water, the ends curling like ink in a page.
This was the first moment she'd truly had to herself since arriving. No judging eyes or whispered commentary. Just the hush of steam and her own breath.
Her fingers drifted absently through the water, tracing invisible patterns. The silence lulled her. She didn't hear the door open behind her.
She didn't notice the soft click of boots on stone.
It wasn't until a shift in the light caught her attention. Some faint shadow along the wall that made her opened her eyes.
Nathaniel stood just inside the room.
He hadn't said a word. Didn't look startled. Simply… watched.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Time coiled between them, tight as a drawn bow.
Evelyn blinked, heart catching in her throat. She sat a little straighter, water lapping higher up her chest, concealing just enough.
"I..." Her voice caught in her throat. "I didn't hear you come in."
Nathaniel's gaze was unreadable. Not hungry, exactly. But not indifferent, either.
"You didn't lock the door."He said.
"I… didn't think I had to." Evelyn replied.
"You don't," he said after a beat, his voice quiet, low. "This is your home now. Every room is yours."
Evelyn nodded.
His eyes drifted not lasciviously, but with the same intensity he always wore, as if memorizing her outline beneath the water. The candlelight flickered over his face, painting it in sharp planes and shadows.
"Do you always watch your wife bathe?" she asked, breathless from her own boldness.
"No," he said, stepping closer, slow, deliberate. "But this is the first time I've wanted to."
She held her breath as he came to a stop beside the tub. Her body was warm, flushed from the heat of the water and the sudden closeness of him. A droplet of water slid down her shoulder, and his eyes followed it.
His hand reached out, knuckles grazing her jawline. He didn't touch her further. Just that small, infuriatingly light contact. The air between them felt thick with something unspoken.
"You should rest," he said finally, voice roughened around the edges. "You'll need the strength for later."
"Are you warning me?" she asked softly.
"No," he murmured. "Just imagining it."
Then just as quietly as he'd entered, he stepped back. One last glance, and he was gone, the door closing gently behind him.
Evelyn sat motionless, the rose-scented steam swirling around her like a secret.
She didn't know what game they were playing yet.
But she knew one thing: she had never, ever been looked at like that before.
By the time the dinner gong echoed through Wycliffe, Evelyn had barely caught her breath.
She stood before the tall mirror in her chambers, the new maid assigned to her was fussing with the fastenings of her pale lavender gown.
"You look a dream, Your Grace," the maid whispered.
"Thank you," Evelyn murmured with a smile, but her hands trembled.
She descended the grand staircase alone, the Duke already ahead in the dining room. The long hall swallowed her steps in thick silence.
The dining room was dimly aglow with chandelier light, candles flickering in silver sconces. The air held the scent of roast duck, citrus, and something floral, perhaps from Juliana's perfume.
The table was vast, but only five places were set.
Nathaniel stood at its head, impeccably composed. His gaze found hers instantly. For a moment, the formality softened. He held out a gloved hand.
"Come, duchess," he said quietly. "Your place is here."
She took his hand.
To her left sat Lady Rosalind, stiff-backed in black silk and jet jewelry. Her hawk-like eyes gleamed with assessment.
To her right, Juliana lounged elegantly, her hair pinned in soft curls, her expression warm. Across from her was Emilio, already pouring himself wine with a mutter.
"At last," Lady Rosalind said as Evelyn sat. "We were beginning to suspect you'd gotten lost. This house can do that."
"It nearly did," Evelyn answered, gently. "But Mrs. Carroway guided me."
Rosalind's eyes narrowed, perhaps surprised Evelyn knew the name.
"Ah yes. The lady of shadows," Emilio muttered. "She's more specter than staff."
Juliana gave a soft laugh. "Don't listen to cousin Emilio, Evelyn. He's bitter because Mrs. Carroway caught him sneaking brandy out of the cellar last year and nearly had him drawn and quartered."
"It was two years ago," Emilio snapped. "And she still eyes me like I'm the fox and she's the hound."
Evelyn smiled faintly, relaxing just a little.
But Lady Rosalind wasn't finished.
"It is fortunate your wardrobe is adequate, Duchess," she said, slicing her meat with genteel menace. "The ton would tear a bride apart for less."
"Thank you," Evelyn replied, careful. "I had some help preparing."
"And no lady's maid before now?"
"No." She replied. She did have Cora back home but she wasn't really her lady's maid.
"Unconventional," Rosalind said coolly. "But I suppose the Duke has always appreciated… eccentricity."
Nathaniel said nothing. But Evelyn noticed the brief tightening of his jaw.
"I find honesty more valuable than polish," Evelyn said, then turned slightly toward Juliana. "And your gown is beautiful."
Juliana brightened, her fingers fluttering along her sleeve. "Thank you! It's a terribly old thing, but I couldn't resist. I told Nathaniel we must go to London this season, even if it's only to replenish my wardrobe. You'll come with me, of course."
Evelyn blinked. "Of course?"
"Yes! You're family now. And besides, we must find you proper dancing slippers." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Heavens knows my brother never learned how to twirl a girl properly."
"That's enough, Juliana," Nathaniel said softly, with a ghost of a smile.
But Evelyn didn't miss the warmth in his eyes when he looked at his sister. He reached to refill her glass without asking. Small, quiet gestures.
The wine, a dark burgundy, caught the candlelight like blood.
"You'll find the estate lively," Juliana said brightly. "There's a spring hunt next month, and the villagers host a fair. Not to mention well, I shouldn't say..."
"What?" Evelyn prompted, curious.
Juliana glanced at Nathaniel, then whispered behind her hand, "Ghost stories. About the east wing. But you didn't hear it from me."
Evelyn nearly choked on her wine.
Lady Rosalind sniffed. "Utter nonsense. The Wycliffe name has enough scars without invoking ghouls."
"Spoken like a woman who's never heard crying in the west library," Emilio muttered.
"That was probably you," Juliana teased. "After being scolded."
Laughter flickered around the table, but Rosalind remained rigid. Nathaniel remained watchful.
At last, the meal began to wind down.
Juliana touched Evelyn's hand lightly. "Let me show you the music room later. It's dusty but charming. Like most of us."
"I'd like that," Evelyn said quietly. "Thank you."
Nathaniel stood.
"Evelyn is tired. The journey was long."
It wasn't a command, but it might as well have been.
Lady Rosalind rose with imperial grace. "Rest well, Duchess. I suspect you'll need it."
The others stood. Evelyn curtsied faintly before following Nathaniel into the hall.
As the doors closed behind them, she glanced up at him.
"Your sister is lovely."
"She is," Nathaniel said. "The one true light in this house."
"And your aunt… intense."
"She'll try to rule you. Don't let her."
They paused before the staircase.
"You surprised them tonight," he said, voice low. "You surprised me."
"For better or worse?"Evelyn asked.
"I haven't decided yet."Nathaniel replied.
And then he led her away.