Page 19

Blanche's heart fluttered with anticipation as she stood before the grand mirror in Evelyn's opulent dressing room.

The evening of the much-anticipated ball had finally arrived, and the air was charged with excitement.

The room was filled with the soft glow of countless candles, casting a warm ambiance that seemed to dance upon the delicate fabrics of the gowns adorning the walls.

Evelyn, ever the gracious hostess, had spared no expense in preparing for the event.

Blanche marvelled at the array of dresses carefully displayed on ornate mannequins.

The room was a treasure trove of silks, satins, and lace, each gown more exquisite than the last. The colours danced before her, each more enticing than the last. Which one would she choose to ensure that she looked absolutely perfect for this important night?

Evelyn, with her characteristic elegance, approached Blanche with a knowing smile.

"Blanche, my dear, tonight is your night to shine.

I have been carefully curating the perfect ensemble for you.

I hope you like the choices I have picked out.

But of course, the decision for which one you choose is ultimately up to you. "

Blanche returned Evelyn's smile with gratitude, her eyes still wandering over the enchanting collection of dresses. Each gown seemed to have a story of its own, and Blanche could not help but feel a sense of wonder at the craftsmanship that went into creating these masterpieces.

The first dress that caught Blanche's eye was a shimmering emerald green ball gown.

Its bodice was adorned with intricate silver embroidery that sparkled under the soft candle light.

The skirt cascaded into layers of silk and tulle, creating a mesmerising effect.

Blanche imagined herself gliding through the ballroom in this regal attire, commanding attention with every step.

Next to the green gown was a gown of royal blue, a colour that mirrored the evening sky just before the stars emerged.

The fabric was a rich satin, and the neck line was embellished with delicate pearls and sapphires.

Blanche envisioned the dress billowing as she twirled during a waltz, the jewels catching the light and casting a radiant glow.

A third option, in contrast to the opulence of the first two, was a simple yet elegant ivory dress.

The soft, flowing fabric hinted at a timeless grace.

Delicate lace adorned the sleeves and hem, giving it a touch of vintage charm.

Blanche imagined herself in this gown, exuding a classic beauty that transcended trends.

Evelyn gestured towards a deep crimson gown with a plunging neck line and a dramatic train.

The fabric seemed to be kissed by the flames, and the intricate beading along the bodice added a touch of sultry glamour.

Blanche could envision herself as the epitome of sophistication and allure in this fiery ensemble.

As Blanche continued to admire the dresses, she felt the weight of the decision before her.

Each gown whispered promises of a different persona for the evening — a queen, a star lit dancer, a timeless beauty, or a seductive enchantress.

She looked to Evelyn, grateful for the thoughtful choices presented to her, and with a deep breath, Blanche began to make her decision, knowing that whatever she chose would define her presence at the grand ball.

“I am quite stunned,” she admitted softly, pressing a hand to her chest. “They are all so beautiful… I hardly know how to choose.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Evelyn asked, her tone light but warm.

Blanche gave a breathless laugh. “Yes—heavens, yes. I cannot think of anyone whose advice I would trust more.”

There was something in that moment—quiet, profound—that made Blanche ache. How different this was from the strained, barbed encouragement of her own mother. Evelyn offered no manipulation, no ambition masked as affection—only kindness, and a curious, almost maternal pride.

Evelyn’s eyes sparkled. “A woman knows these things,” she said simply.

“I had a feeling you might be drawn to this,” Evelyn said at last, lifting a gown from its stand.

The dress shimmered like starlight, a delicate blend of ivory and champagne gold.

The beadwork at the bodice was intricate yet restrained, catching the light with every movement.

Its neckline dipped modestly, framing the collarbone with effortless grace, while the skirts flowed like water in motion.

“Oh, Evelyn…” Blanche stepped forward, her fingers brushing the fabric as though it might vanish under her touch. “It’s exquisite. I think—yes—I think I had my eye on this one without even realising it.”

As Blanche slipped into the gown, she marvelled at how it seemed to caress her form, enhancing her beauty in ways she never thought possible. Evelyn stood back, her eyes assessing every detail.

"You look absolutely divine," Evelyn declared with a satisfied nod.

"Now, for the finishing touches." She gestured towards the vanity, where an array of jewels awaited.

Blanche's eyes widened as she beheld the glittering gems – diamonds, sapphires, and pearls – a dazzling constellation waiting to adorn her.

She did not even know where to begin. She was not sure which would go best with her dress.

"Please," she asked Evelyn. "Would you help me once more?"

"Of course I will, dear."

Evelyn skillfully fastened a delicate diamond necklace around Blanche's neck and placed elegant pearl earrings in her ears.

With each piece, Blanche felt a transformation, as if she were stepping into a role, a character in a grand play.

A duchess… she was a true duchess, and this was the first time that she felt it.

As the final preparations came together, Blanche felt a swell of gratitude—not only for Evelyn’s steady support, but for the quiet strength she had found within herself.

The ball awaited, shimmering with promise.

She paused before the mirror, a vision of grace and poise, though her thoughts were anything but still.

Philip’s image lingered at the edge of her mind—his smile, so disarming, and those sharp green eyes that seemed to see too much.

What was this warmth that rose within her at the mere thought of him?

She dared not name it, for it unsettled the careful world she had worked so hard to preserve.

Staring into the mirror, Blanche searched her own reflection as though it might offer clarity.

How had he, of all people, begun to slip past the walls she had sworn to keep intact?

The dilemma gnawed at her like a persistent ache.

Could she allow herself to be vulnerable to the unpredictable tides of affection?

Though they were already wed, theirs had not begun as a love match.

And in a world governed by appearances and unspoken rules, yielding her heart so completely felt like its own kind of risk.

Yet, in the quiet solitude of her thoughts, she could not deny the pull toward Philip—a pull that defied caution, reason, and every defence she had carefully built.

Evelyn, ever attuned, moved to her side. “You’ve gone quiet, darling. Are you quite well?”

Blanche blinked. “Yes—yes, of course. Only the excitement of the evening catching up with me.”

"Are you sure?" Evelyn pushed. "I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything."

Something in Evelyn’s gentle insistence dissolved Blanche’s composure.

“I am afraid,” she said at last, her voice trembling. “What if I fail this evening? What if I disappoint Philip—or you—or everyone who expects something from me? I… I do not know how to be what I am meant to be. Not really.”

Her heart fluttered with nerves as she admitted this aloud.

Everything that she had been trying to push down so it did not overwhelm her, floated painfully to the surface.

Now that the night was here, she could not ignore it any longer.

Evelyn turned to Blanche, her eyes softening with understanding. She took Blanche's hands in her own, the warmth of her touch a reassuring anchor. “Oh, my dear. You already are.”

Blanche bit her lip, uncertainty clouding her features. "And what of Philip? I fear I might not live up to his expectations. I have come to admire him so much… and I would hate to disappoint him."

Evelyn’s smile turned tender, her gaze thoughtful.

“My son is a man who guards his heart well. He has done so for years. But since your arrival, I have seen a change in him. A softening. He speaks of you with quiet reverence. You have given him something I feared was lost—hope. Laughter. A reason to look ahead.”

Blanche stared, wide-eyed. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Evelyn said. “And Blanche—he is not the only one changed. I see you too. You carry yourself differently now. With purpose. With grace. Whatever brought you together may have been unexpected, but what grows between you… that is something rare.”

Blanche was overcome with a mixture of emotions — relief, gratitude, and a new found sense of purpose.

She felt a weight lifting from her shoulders, replaced by the understanding that she had already succeeded in ways she had not fully comprehended.

Evelyn's words resonated, echoing in the caverns of her heart.

"That is wonderful to hear," Blanche said softly, her voice touched with quiet relief.

A fragile warmth stirred within her, loosening the tight knot that had long weighed upon her heart.

"I am glad—truly glad—that all of this has not turned out to be a hardship for Philip.

From the very beginning, I have carried a sense of guilt over the circumstances that brought us here.

That afternoon in the blue parlour… it was never meant to happen.

A simple, innocent conversation, yet it led to so much more than either of us could have foreseen.

I have felt, ever since, that I might have brought nothing but disruption to his life and that is something I would never wish upon anyone. "

Evelyn tilted her head, her expression softening with understanding.

A thoughtful smile touched her lips, and there was a glint of knowing in her eyes.

"My dear girl, my son has done nothing but seek to protect you since the very first whisper of scandal.

But I see more than that now. In the short time you have been his wife, something has shifted.

He respects you, Blanche—he truly likes you.

You have not unsettled his life. Quite the opposite, in fact.

You have brought something to it that was long absent. "

A gentle warmth bloomed in Blanche’s chest. It was comforting—reassuring—to know she was not alone in sensing the quiet closeness forming between herself and Philip.

Evelyn’s words stirred something tender within her, a flicker of hope she scarcely dared name.

He had not declared anything outright, of course, nor had she yet sorted through the maze of her own feelings.

But perhaps, in time, the truth would reveal itself.

Perhaps even tonight.

After all, if ever there were a setting for hearts to awaken, it was a ball.

Her pulse quickened with the thought. This evening would not simply be about curtsies, compliments, and courtly conversation.

It would be her first true appearance before the ton as the Duchess of Brooksdale—and more daunting still, it might offer the first glimpse into what her marriage could become.

Could there be more than civility between them? Could something real take root?

The uncertainty made her breath catch. It was a great deal to rest on one night. Too much, perhaps. And yet… Blanche could not help but hope.