The days since Nathaniel's departure had slipped by like fog through the trees; slow, damp, and muffled by silence. The fire was still kept, the meals still delivered, and the staff remained attentive but without him, the estate felt more like a beautifully gilded prison.
And she, a guest under surveillance.
Evelyn sat by the window of her private chambers, a book unopened in her lap and her eyes staring far beyond the misty hills surrounding Wycliffe estate. The Duke had not written, not even a note to say when he might return. Nights felt colder without his presence though even when he was beside her, his silence had carved a distance nothing physical could breach.
Still, the grandeur of the manor had turned stifling. The halls were too quiet. Even the roses in the garden seemed to bloom with a kind of guarded reserve.
A sudden knock snapped her from her thoughts.
"Up! Now! No arguments!" Juliana's voice rang out like sunlight bursting through the curtains.
Evelyn turned just as the younger woman strode in without knocking, wearing a smile that made her look even younger than she was. Her dark curls were half-pinned in a style too fashionable for the manor, and her riding cloak flared dramatically as she crossed the room.
She wore a pale peach riding dress with ivory buttons, cinched at the waist to emphasize her lithe figure, and a small feathered hat perched playfully atop her dark curls. Her cheeks were flushed, her energy irrepressible.
"Good morning, dear sister-in-law!" she chirped, flinging open Evelyn's wardrobe. "Up. Out. Now."
Evelyn blinked. "Out?"
"We're going into town."
"But..."
"No 'buts.' You've been moping around here like some tragic widow. My brother would have a fit if he knew how dull you've become in his absence." She turned, hands on her hips, eyebrows arched. "You are the Duchess of Wycliffe now, not a prisoner."
"I wasn't aware I had the option," Evelyn muttered.
"You do when I say so."
Evelyn couldn't help but smile, pulled along by Juliana's stormy charisma. Within minutes, a maid had helped her change into a soft sky-blue day dress, tailored in the French style, with silver-threaded embroidery along the cuffs and a wide straw bonnet tied under her chin with matching ribbon. The gown flared modestly over her hips, elegant but practical for walking.
And hour later,
The sisters-in-law climbed into the open carriage, pulled by two well-groomed bays. Valeric, ever the silent shadowguard, trailed behind on horseback, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead. Juliana ignored him completely.
The moment they reached the edge of town, Evelyn pressed her face to the window as the manor disappeared behind them, and for the first time in days, Evelyn's chest loosened.
Wycliffe village lay nestled at the foot of the green hills, cobbled streets winding around tidy stone buildings with ivy-covered walls. As they rolled into the town square, bustling with merchants, bakers, and gossiping women, Evelyn's heart lifted.
Children dashed between stalls. Hawkers cried out prices for strawberries, bolts of lace, ink pens, and spice jars. The scent of warm bread drifted from a bakery, and a fiddler played at the corner while a pair of lovers spun in a makeshift dance.
Evelyn's breath caught. "It's alive."
Juliana laughed. "Welcome to Wycliffe-on-Dale. It's not London, but it has its charm."
Evelyn laughed aloud when a dog darted between her legs as she stepped down. It had been so long since she'd heard her own laughter in public.
They stepped down from the carriage, Valeric trailing a few paces back.
Evelyn was instantly overwhelmed and delighted.
Juliana grinned and took her arm.
"See? Freedom. Feels delicious, doesn't it?"
"I forgot what fresh air smells like."
"God, you sound like Nathaniel."
Evelyn laughed again.
Juliana chattered endlessly, dragging her from stall to stall. "That scarf is hideous, give it to me, I'll try it."
"Oh, don't look at that baker, he's married badly."
"This cheese tastes like goat feet but Valeric eats it by the block."
Evelyn laughed more than she had in days.
The pair wandered from stall to stall with Juliana picking out a coral ribbon for Evelyn's hair, forcing her to sample candied almonds from a silver dish, and haggling shamelessly with a bootmaker over a pair of embroidered slippers she didn't even intend to buy.
Evelyn really felt liberated. She could smile and laugh without reservation. No one bowed or stared. No one whispered the word "Duchess." In this precious moments, she felt truly free and happy.
Letting go of all her inhibitions, Evelyn bartered for a jar of rose-petal jam with a silver coin she insisted Juliana let her pay. She tried on a wide-brimmed hat and posed like a ridiculous noblewoman from a comedy play. She ate a sticky bun with her gloved hands, ignoring Juliana's horrified shriek.
By the time they reached the edge of the market square, her cheeks were flushed from both the cold and the laughter.
She felt like a stranger. She felt like herself.
"You're very popular here," Evelyn said as another shopkeeper bowed deeply and murmured "my lady" to Juliana with unmistakable reverence.
"My brother is lord of the town," Juliana said, casually flipping a coin to a passing child. "Nothing moves in Wycliffe without his permission. Most of the buildings, businesses, and land are under the estate's domain."
Evelyn paused. "All this belongs to him?"
"To us, now," Juliana said with a wink. "I imagine your signature would get you quite far at the tailor's."
Evelyn tucked that thought away as they continued walking. Every friendly nod from a villager made her feel both flattered and strangely exposed. Power clung to her now, whether she wanted it or not.
"I can't decide," Evelyn murmured as she brushed her fingers over a bolt of pale lavender silk. "Do they respect us... or fear us?"
Juliana's smile turned sly. "Does it matter, darling? As long as they bow."
They stopped by a bookshop next. Juliana immediately struck up a flirtatious conversation with the handsome bookseller, while Evelyn wandered toward a corner filled with old political histories and court memoirs. Her fingers paused on a leather-bound volume titled Scandals of the High Seat.
Something about the title sent a chill down her spine.
But then Juliana was tugging her toward a pastry stall, filling a box with sugar-dusted tarts and telling Evelyn they were "absolutely necessary" for the ride home.
As the sun dipped behind the church spire and the bells began to ring, Evelyn realized that just for a few hours, she'd forgotten she was alone in that vast, cold house. She'd forgotten the worries, the silence, the Duke's long shadow.
And she hadn't missed it.
Not entirely.