Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

" A nd what of Lord Wentworth? He is the one standing by the fountain. Do you find him agreeable?"

Evelina's brow furrowed as she glanced at the suitor her sister pointed out. She hesitated, considering her words before she replied. "Indeed, Lord Wentworth is charming, but I believe his affections lie elsewhere."

"Elsewhere? And where might that be?" Margaret looked up at her with curious eyes.

"Let's just say that he frequents too many bars, dear sister. I would never settle with a man like that."

"Hm, indeed." Margaret nodded in agreement, before she ran her eyes over the garden again. "Ah, but what about the dashing Captain Sinclair? Near the rose bushes? His gaze seems to linger even—perhaps I could add him to my card?"

"The captain seems to be a gallant gentleman, but I fear our acquaintance is but a fleeting one," Evelina responded, with a gentle smile. "He is rarely in the country, often away on business. Not a lot is known about him."

The Countess's garden party was above and beyond the definition of elegance. The sprawling gardens were dotted with vibrant blooms in hues of crimson, gold, and ivory, their fragrant scents mingling in the warm summer air.

Canopies of gossamer fabric fluttered gently in the breeze, casting dappled sunlight on the meticulously trimmed hedges and marble statues that graced the manicured lawns. The bubbling of a nearby fountain, accompanied by a string quartet, provided a soothing backdrop to the chatter of the guests.

Tables covered with crisp white linens were laden with delectable treats—silver platters and tiered trays showcased an assortment of dainty pastries and petits fours , each a work of art. The scent wafted through the air, followed by the rich aroma of freshly brewed tea and the effervescent fizz of champagne being poured into crystal flutes.

The ladies were dressed in an array of pastel-colored gowns adorned with delicate lace and floral patterns, embodying refined elegance. The gentlemen sported tailored coats, crisp cravats, and polished boots.

Evelina and Margaret conversed about potential suitors as they strolled through the garden, stopping occasionally to socialize.

The Countess's gatherings and balls were known to all as the best places to find wealthy, connected suitors. Somehow, Lady Claymont managed to always have all the important men in Society attend.

As they strolled further into the garden, Margaret's eyes lit up suddenly, and she tugged on her sister's hand, leaning in to whisper mischievously, "Oh, but dear sister, have you heard of the handsome Lord Harrington? The one standing by the gazebo?"

Evelina groaned and sighed. "Margaret, we are not here to?—"

"I heard from my dear friend, Lady Amelia, that he's quite taken with Lady Adessa. But you see, the matter is, he tried?—"

"Margaret, you must compose yourself," Evelina reprimanded, withdrawing her hand. "Perhaps we can use your great knowledge about the ton for your own benefit?"

"Oh, but Sister, you did not let me finish." Margaret pouted.

Evelina rolled her eyes with a smile, and her mind wandered elsewhere as her younger sister steered the conversation to the previous topic.

"Indeed, I heard it was quite the sight! I never knew the man was so agile beneath that stoic fa?ade. The way he was ready to risk it all for Lady Adessa…"

Evelina's head snapped up as Margaret trailed off suddenly, her gaze fixed on someone in the crowd, disbelief evident on her face.

"Sister, is everything all right?"

Evelina followed her sister's gaze, and a slight gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the man Margaret was staring at.

Their father, dressed in his best attire, was looking around the crowd, obviously searching for them.

"What is he doing here?" Margaret whisper-hissed, her voice laced with anxiety.

The question hung in the air, and Evelina felt her heart race at the implications of his presence.

At last, their father spotted them and began to make his way towards them.

A wave of discomfort washed over Evelina. It had been ages since their father had joined them for any social gathering. This sudden appearance stirred multiple clashing emotions within her.

Her heart sank as she glimpsed the conflicting emotions on Margaret's face as well, and she balled her fists gently. She would not let the man ruin this day.

As he drew nearer, Margaret leaned in and asked, "Is it all right for him to be here? Do you think he will… behave?"

Evelina, grappling with her own uncertainty, forced a light laugh and a smile for her sister's sake. "I'm sure everything will be okay."

When their father finally stopped before them, he nodded nonchalantly and greeted them with a simple word. "Girls."

When neither of his daughters returned his greeting, James straightened his back and cleared his throat to dispel the awkward air.

"Look alive, that future husband of yours might be here." He rubbed his nose, eyeing the girls' postures. "Put on brighter smiles, for heavens's sake."

Evelina, unable to contain her simmering anger at this point, interrupted sharply. "What are you doing here, Father?"

Taken aback by her expression, James hesitated briefly before retorting. "And what sort of question is that? Am I not a man who can go wherever he pleases?" His tone turned snappish, revealing the strain beneath his nonchalant facade.

Evelina glared at him unabashedly, struggling even more to calm herself. Margaret's head was bent, and she could tell her sister was struggling with the situation as well.

James glared back at his eldest daughter with growing annoyance. The truth was, he'd come to ensure the girls would be approached by the wealthiest suitors, though he had no intentions of admitting it.

As the tension between father and daughters grew, it felt as though there were repressed feelings and grudges floating around in the air. Evelina's fiery defiance in the face of James' false authority only heightened the silent standoff.

Heavens help me keep my composure…

"It is quite the evening already, is it not?" a sudden voice broke through Evelina's thoughts.

She turned to find Gabriel staring at her, concern and wonder flickering in his eyes. She realized instantly that he had seen her glaring at her father, and her ears turned red, ashamed that she'd exposed her family's dysfunctionality.

"Your Grace, it is quite a surprise to see you here," she spoke, her tone devoid of emotions.

But before her words could settle in the air, her father butted in, his voice grating on her nerves. "Ah, it's the Duke of Dunmore, girls!" His face broke into a smile. "It's less of a surprise and more so a pleasure to have the Duke here. Indeed, it is."

Evelina could tell that his words were an indirect reprimand.

Gabriel only nodded in response, his eyes fixed on her. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, however, feeling shame and sadness washing over her.

Evelina felt like an unwilling participant in a play scripted by her father. His fake cheerfulness grated on her nerves. Each word he spoke to Gabriel in an attempt to gain favor with him added another layer of discomfort to the already strained atmosphere.

"Your Grace, would you honor us with a dance with my younger daughter, Margaret? I believe she has a slot available on her card."

Evelina's ears perked up at this. Her heart began to thump loudly in her chest. She could tell what her father was doing—he was trying to set the Duke and her sister up. It was all so obvious now. He came to sell his daughters to wealthy suitors only.

She could not look up. The thought of Margaret on Gabriel's arm made her chest tighten, and she knew it was not because she thought they wouldn't look good together or the Duke would do wrong by her younger sister.

Her mind raced with confusing thoughts. She felt sick—she wanted so badly to prevent the two from sharing a dance, but she knew she couldn't. There was no reason to.

"I must confess, I had intended to ask Miss Balfour for a dance instead."

All thoughts evaporated, and Evelina's head snapped up in shock. She saw her father's stunned expression and her sister's surprised yet pleased look at those sudden words.

Before she could fully process this request, Gabriel intervened once more, his voice cutting through the surprise in the air. With a confident demeanor, he extended his hand towards her and outright asked, "May I have this dance?"

His unexpected yet gallant gesture caught Evelina off guard, momentarily rendering her speechless. The eyes of the guests were fixed on the unfolding scene, their expressions and chatter a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Despite the onlookers' scrutiny, Evelina found herself drawn to the Duke's outstretched hand. In a moment of boldness, she placed her hand in his, drawing comfort from his touch.

Without a word, he led her to the center of the dance floor, their movements synchronized as they began to dance.

As the music swirled around them and all eyes followed their movements, Evelina was filled with a sudden sense of liberation. The opinions of others faded into the background as she allowed herself to be swept away by the music and the Duke's enigmatic presence.

Every touch, every glance seemed to ignite a spark within her, heightening her awareness of his presence.

The feel of his fingers lightly grazing her skin sent shivers down her spine, while his firm grip on her waist provided a sense of security she hadn't realized she craved.

Each time their eyes met, a sort of understanding passed between them, leaving her with a rush of emotions that left her breathless and exhilarated. She felt like she could melt into this man.

A sigh escaped her lips as he twirled her and pulled her close to him once more. She was grateful for the temporary escape from her father. Who knew where things would've ended up without Gabriel's arrival?

"Are you always like that with your father?" His low voice pulled her from her thoughts. His tone was oddly gentle, his words carrying a genuine curiosity and a touch of empathy.

Evelina's heart skipped a beat at his perceptiveness. Her eyes flicked up to meet his for a moment, only to flick down once more, another sigh escaping her lips.

She hesitated, her inner turmoil reflected in the contemplative expression on her face. She wrestled with the decision to reveal her thoughts, unsure whether to divulge the complexities of her family situation.

Finally, with a subtle bite of her lip, she mustered the courage to speak, her voice tinged with resignation. "My family is complicated, Your Grace."

His dark green eyes softened with understanding.

"Tell me more," he urged gently.

She looked up at him, a sense of relief washing over her as she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a chance to unburden herself for the first time.

She took a deep breath before she began sharing her frustrations.

"As you can see, my father has joined me and my sister at the party today." She paused and laughed emptily. "After neglecting his duties for so long, that is. And more so, he's doing this only to push us towards the wealthiest suitors."

Each word carried the weight of years of unspoken grievances, the facade of familial duty crumbling in the face of Gabriel's attentive gaze.

As she delved deeper into her father's neglect and indifference, her heartache became palpable. "He does not really care about us, Your Grace. I have had to do most of the work to keep our family together and care for my younger sisters," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"My father, he…" She swallowed past the lump in her throat as she struggled to reveal his last transgression. "He tends to get drunk and wager…" Her voice betrayed shame and resentment.

She felt somewhat ashamed, guilty. Despite her inner turmoil, she was making a conscious effort not to speak ill of her father, mindful that it was not proper to do so.

A moment of silence enveloped them until Gabriel's firm voice cut through the stillness. "Your father is despicable, Miss Balfour."

Evelina's mouth hung open at those unexpected words, shock and uncertainty flickering in her eyes. The words hung in the air, a stark acknowledgment of the gravity of her situation, yet they felt so wrong.

Before she could gather her thoughts, his voice pierced the air again, full of irritation.

"I cannot fathom how a man would not care for his daughters and shirk his duty to them," he stated firmly, words echoing with a sense of disbelief at such neglect.

"He… he has his reasons, I suppose," Evelina stammered, torn between loyalty and the truth. "You do not know what he's been through, Your Grace. He t-tries. He does what he can occasionally, and he?—"

Gabriel's grip on her waist tightened subtly, cutting her off. "That's enough," he muttered. He drew her closer, almost protectively, and lowered his voice. "You don't have to lie to me. I understand. I am a father myself, Miss Balfour. I know what the Viscount is doing."

His proximity, his touch, sparked that same magnetic pull that Evelina couldn't ignore. Her heart raced in her chest, the heat of the moment intensifying as she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from him.

At last, the music faded and the dance concluded.

Evelina bobbed a quick curtsy before hastening off the dance floor, her cheeks flushed from exhilaration and unease. Her thoughts spun as she made her way back to her family. However, so lost was she in the ghost of Gabriel's touch that her steps faltered, and she looked down to hide her expression.

Before she could gather her composure, her father called her name, drawing her attention to a man standing beside him—Anthony Russ, the Earl of Oakwood, a figure of wealth and influence.

Evelina's stomach churned with apprehension, her father's false joviality once again grating on her nerves. With a forced cheer, he introduced her to Lord Oakwood, whose prim demeanor contrasted sharply with Gabriel's raw authenticity.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Balfour," Lord Oakwood greeted, his smooth voice cutting through the tension. "Your father speaks quite highly of you."

Evelina forced a polite smile. "Thank you, My Lord. The pleasure is mine."

As soon as the Earl excused himself after a too-lengthy conversation, Evelina turned to her father, her expression a mix of shock and dismay.

In a hushed tone, she asked him, "Have you not heard of the man's reputation, Father?"

James, seemingly unfazed by her alarm, responded with a casual air. "And whatever do you mean, my dear?"

His nonchalance contrasted sharply with Evelina's growing apprehension, irritating her beyond measure.

"The Earl of Oakwood is notorious for his rakish behavior, Father," she hissed. She leaned back and eyed him accusingly. "You of all people should know this."

Despite her attempts to convey the seriousness of her words, James remained dismissive, his focus elsewhere.

"Are you listening to me, Father?"

"The Earl is a respected man of the high society," he countered snappily, at last, his tone firm and unwavering. "Whatever the man chooses to do in his free time is none of your business." His eyes narrowed on her. "He's wealthy and connected—a suitable match." He glared at him warningly. "We need this. Bright smiles only when he returns."

Evelina felt a sense of defeat wash over her. Her eyes flicked to her sister, and with a heavy heart, she nodded in acquiescence to her father's wishes.

It was true, after all. She wasn't in the position to be picky.