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“ Y ou look wonderful,” Eugenia said as she cupped Evelyn’s cheeks later that week. “That lavender color suits you so well.”

Evelyn scowled. “I cannot wait to wear brighter colors again. Even white. I have tired of this constant lavender—at least it’s not navy.”

She had only worn black in the immediate days following her husband’s death and funeral.

She’d switched to navy shortly after, though that had lasted mere days.

For the last few weeks, she had worn gowns in various shades of lavender.

It looked softer. Not quite so dour, but also not disrespectful to the dead.

Still, she longed to wear her Pomona green muslin, her evening primrose-colored gown—even that pale squash-colored one she’d always thought hideous now looked oddly enticing every time she looked into her armoire.

Well, when she had looked into it. Her current armoire, in the dower house, sat mostly empty. She had only brought a few things with her since Nathaniel told her to move into the house she had fought so hard for. Now that she was in it, it felt oddly unfamiliar.

Lady Appleton’s belongings were still everywhere because she hadn’t officially given them up. She would be gone for a very long time—but not forever. Then again, Evelyn likely wouldn’t be there forever either. Not if Nathaniel had his way.

No, he would find her a husband—and he would do it posthaste. He had made that quite clear.

“Evelyn,” Charlotte called. “You’re miles away. What are you thinking about? Don’t tell me—it’s dancing with Nathaniel later.” She winked.

“I don’t think that’s what she was thinking about,” Marianne said, far more composed and pragmatic than her flighty sister.

“I most certainly was not thinking about dancing with Nathaniel. In fact, if I can avoid him all night, I would prefer it.”

“Oh goodness,” Aunt Eugenia said. “What has he done now?”

“Done?” Evelyn echoed. “What he has done is push me for months and months to find a husband. Or rather, for him to find me one. I finally found someone—Lord Halston—only for Nathaniel to tell me he was a bad man. Granted, after everything Nathaniel told me about him, I can see he might be right,” she conceded, “but then he…” she shook her head. “It does not matter at all.”

“I dare say it matters quite a lot,” Eugenia said. “For you to be in such high dudgeon over it, it must matter.”

“He implied that Lord Halston could not possibly have been interested in me for anything other than the prestige of marrying me or getting back at him.”

“Getting back at him?” Marianne asked. “What are you talking about?”

“They didn’t get along in school. Halston was rather cruel to Nathaniel,” she said, and as she recounted what she’d learned, her heart ached for Nathaniel all over again, as it had the day he’d first told her the truth.

Of course, he’d followed it up with the implication that she couldn’t possibly have attracted Lord Halston for any reason other than her connection to him.

Since then, they had barely spoken. Whatever companionship they’d once had had crumbled. She had moved her belongings—or at least some of them—to the dower house and remained there. They communicated only through notes, passed back and forth by the servants.

She’d had half a mind not to come to the stupid ball at all.

But she had promised. Not just to Nathaniel, but to her sisters as well. And her aunt.

“I do wish the two of you would stop dancing around each other,” Charlotte said. “It’s clear you care for him. And it’s clear he cares?—”

“He does not,” Evelyn said flatly. “If he did, why would he insist on having this ball? On finding me a?—”

“To protect you from Father,” Marianne said. “He wants you to have a husband, so your fortune will be safe. If not for Nathaniel, I dare say Charlotte would already have a husband thrust upon her.”

It was true. Evelyn had heard that Nathaniel had visited their father for a ‘calm’ conversation. It had ended in shouting—but the fact that he had gone at all touched her.

“So you are not to continue with Lord Halston, I hope?” Aunt Eugenia asked, grateful for the change of subject.

“Yes, I spoke to him. He was not pleased. In fact, his reaction made me think Nathaniel was probably right to warn me away from him. There was a glimmer in his eye—I can’t quite explain it—but something about him was not right.”

She shuddered, remembering the way Halston had glared at her when she’d explained she wouldn’t be attending the opera with him. The air had gone cold. She’d felt it deep inside.

She was grateful to Nathaniel for telling her the truth—grateful, yet conflicted.

Then there was the matter of her father.

“How is Father?” she asked.

“Determined that you should come home,” Aunt Eugenia said. “But I think some of the things Nathaniel said to him have taken root. He apologized for asking me for money.”

It was the first time Eugenia had openly acknowledged that her brother had been draining her finances.

“He asked if I would be interested in making a match. Having my coming out early,” Charlotte said.

“Lottie, no,” Marianne said. “You can’t do that.”

“I told him I’m not interested,” Charlotte said. “I can’t believe I said that. I’ve wanted my coming-out ball for so long—and now that he’s offered, I said no.”

“But you understand why you can’t,” Evelyn said quickly.

“I know. I know. He’d marry me off to the first rich man who smiled at him—at least until you’re married and Nathaniel’s out of the picture,” Marianne said. “He’ll still try.”

“Not if I can help it,” Evelyn said. “Not if I can find someone good. Someone brave. Someone who’ll protect us.”

“Someone like Nathaniel.”

Evelyn shot her a look. “I do not wish to discuss it. The guests are arriving. We should go.”

The four women made their way back to the main house from the dower house. Carriages had indeed begun to arrive. Music spilled out of the open windows, and Evelyn spotted Nathaniel standing at the entrance as host, welcoming guests.

It was perhaps best that she had moved into the dower house. Otherwise, her position tonight might have been even more ambiguous. Would she have stood beside him? Wouldn’t that have raised more gossip?

As it was, she, her aunt, and her sisters made their way up the steps. She greeted Nathaniel with a curtsy.

“Your Grace.”

“Your Grace,” he replied and bowed, then greeted her sisters as though they were strangers passing on the road. No civil whispers. No small talk. No one even asked how she was settling in.

Things were different.

She made her way inside, into the ballroom, which was already teeming with guests. She noticed there were far more gentlemen than ladies and wondered if that was by accident or by design. Of course, this ball was meant to help her find a suitor.

“Evelyn!” a familiar voice said. She turned to find Lady Annabelle approaching.

“Annabelle,” she said. “How good to see you. How are you?” They hadn’t seen one another since finishing school.

“I’m very well. Getting well, I hope. Lord Cinder might soon make an offer,” she said, casting a glance at the gentleman she’d been courting for several months. “Do you remember Charmaine? My sister?”

Charmaine Avery. A full head taller than both Evelyn and Annabelle, she approached with a practiced smile. Evelyn knew Charmaine well. She was a year older than the other two and had also attended finishing school.

She was also a dreadful gossip.

While Annabelle was sweet, kind, and graceful, Charmaine was the opposite. Evelyn often thought that, if it were permitted, Charmaine would happily take a post at one of the scandal sheets—reporting on, or inventing, Society’s dirtiest secrets.

“Charmaine,” Evelyn said, smiling, waiting for her to curtsy.

She didn’t, not until Annabelle elbowed her in the side.

Then she performed the most half-hearted curtsy Evelyn had ever seen.

“How good to see you,” Charmaine said. “I would say you’ve done well for yourself, but then I must remind myself that none of this is actually yours.”

Evelyn forced a smile. “No, it’s not. It all belongs to my husband—or rather, to his heir. But I have the dower house, my jointure, and my freedom.”

“Oh yes,” Charmaine said, voice syrupy. “There is something to be said for being a one-day bride. Or was it two?”

Evelyn ground her teeth, forcing herself to stay composed. This woman was as insufferable as Nathaniel had been on his worst day, without the benefit of being handsome.

“Charmaine,” Annabelle said. “Envy does not suit you. Green is not your color at all.”

Evelyn chuckled. Annabelle beamed. Charmaine gave them both a flat smile, muttered her farewells, and stalked off.

“She’s never changed, has she?”

“Not at all. I must beg your pardon for bringing her. She wasn’t invited, but my mother insisted—and Julian?—”

“Julian?”

“Yes.” Evelyn had almost forgotten the connection. Annabelle and Charmaine Avery were cousins to Julian—Nathaniel’s closest friend.

She spotted Julian across the room, standing with Nathaniel, both holding flutes of champagne. Nathaniel was watching her again. Not subtly. His eyes flicked her way repeatedly.

“You know,” Annabelle said quietly, “if Julian is to be believed, all of this could be yours once more.”

“Don’t be silly,” Evelyn replied. “You know the purpose of this ball.”

“To find you a suitor. Yes, I know. What a shame. Such a waste of money, when there’s a perfectly good one already waiting.”

“Believe me, the duke is no more interested in me than he is in a case of smallpox. And the feeling is mutual.”

“Is that so? Because you seem to be looking at him rather regularly.”

“Only because he vexes me,” Evelyn said. “As you can see, he’s watching my every move. Making sure I dance until my feet fall off.”

Annabelle chuckled. “I dare say that’s not the reason he’s watching you.”

Evelyn wanted to tell her friend everything.

About the long and winding road between her and Nathaniel.

About how she had, once or twice, truly believed he cared.

About the almost-kisses. About how he had pushed her away each time.

About Lord Halston—how Nathaniel had insisted Halston only pursued her out of spite. As if she meant nothing.

But she didn’t say any of it. There was no point.

Tonight, she would find someone tolerable. Someone Nathaniel wouldn’t find as objectionable as he had Halston. Someone she could see herself with—or at least, someone she could imagine being not quite miserable with.

And Nathaniel Sinclair would be nothing more than an unpleasant memory and a scar on her heart that no one would ever see.