Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

“ H opefully, the fabrics you wanted will be in as well today for you, Evie,” Cecilia smiled, her voice light and inviting as she adjusted the collar of her deep green coat.

The crisp winter air swirled around them as they walked the short distance from where the carriage had to stop in the snowy road, to the direction of the shop.

“Absolutely! I can’t wait to see what they have in store,” Evie chimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I, as well, am excited,” Tristan’s tease was heavy as he flashed a grin at the group. “I cannot speak for you all, but I’m just here for the show of fashion. And I expect front-row seats!” He gestured animatedly despite the sarcastic tone, causing a ripple of laughter among the group of three families.

The dowager countess, with silver hair elegantly pinned up, wrapped her shawl tighter as she raised an eyebrow at Tristan. “Just remember, my lord, it’s not all about you,” she teased, her lips curling into a slight smile. “How far are we off to again?”

Cecilia chuckled, but her laughter was cut short as she watched Alistair fall into step beside Diana, who was slightly ahead with the Wexfords. She wore a soft maroon dress that accentuated her delicate features and a light shawl draped over her shoulders.

She looks stunning, as always. It’s no wonder he can’t keep away from her.

Cecilia frowned at her train of thought and redirected her eyes elsewhere. However, her ears remained stubborn, thus her gaze followed.

“Tell me, my lady, do you think they’ll have something suitable for the wedding?” Tristan directed the question to Diana, who seemed surprised at the sudden attention.

“I’m certain they will, my lord,” she replied, her voice smooth.

“I just hope they have the fabrics in shades of blue,” Nathaniel interjected, “Just as my bride requested.” He smiled at her, and she blushed, the warmth spreading across her cheeks.

“Soft colors, I dare say. Why not a sharp red?” Tristan exclaimed, feigning shock. “We must be daring! Let’s find something that will make heads turn!” He winked at Diana, who met his gaze with an odd expression.

The group reached the shop, a quaint establishment with a charming display of dresses in the window. As they entered, the bell above the door jingled, and the atmosphere shifted to one of anticipation. The dowager duchess, with her sharp gaze, surveyed the racks, her presence commanding yet nurturing.

As they moved through the shop, the air was filled with laughter and friendly banter. They considered dresses and fabrics; some more interested than others.

“Miss Kingman, that is indeed an excellent choice of design,” Alistair’s rare complimenting tone pulled almost everyone’s attention, his eyes bright with admiration as he gestured toward a traditional, flowing, emerald gown that caught the light beautifully.

The fabric shimmered like the surface of a tranquil lake, and Diana’s cheeks flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice soft yet as always.

“Oh come now, Miss Kingman,” As the moment of praise settled in, Tristan, leaning casually against a nearby rack, interjected with a teasing smirk. “That dress is a bit too old-fashioned for someone as lively as you, don’t you think?” he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Diana’s expression faltered for a moment, a frown forming as she processed the unexpected jab. Her blue eyes, usually warm and inviting, now sparkled with a hint of annoyance.

Yet, she took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of the dress with her fingers. “I believe classic styles have their own charm, my lord,” she replied, her voice steady despite the obvious tension.

Tristan’s gaze lingered on her, his playful demeanor faltering slightly. He seemed unsatisfied, as if he had expected a different reaction from her. Cecilia stood nearby, her brow raised in silent observation. She hoped her brother wouldn’t make Diana his next target for relentless teasing.

Evie, oblivious to the undercurrents, was busy examining a vibrant swatch of fabric. “What do you think about this one?” she asked, holding up a bright coral against her fair skin, her darak curls bouncing as she turned toward Cecilia.

“It’s lovely, but I think something a bit softer might suit you better,” Cecilia suggested, her voice warm and encouraging. She couldn’t help but glance back at Diana, who was still recovering from Tristan’s remark. “How about a light peach? It would complement your complexion beautifully.”

“Let’s keep looking!” she suggested loudly, trying to redirect the energy in the room. “There are plenty more fabrics and dresses to explore!” She hoped her enthusiasm would lighten the mood.

“Brother, what do you think of this one?” Evie asked, holding up a vibrant fabric that danced with colors under the store’s bright lights.

Alistair, standing with his arms crossed, seemed pleasantly surprised at his sister seeking his opinion. He cleared his throat, adjusting his posture as he stepped forward. “Well, I believe this would be a better choice,” he said, reaching for a deep cream material.

Cecilia’s expression shifted immediately, her brow furrowing as she observed the plain fabric.

As expected, Evie took the fabric from Alistair, her smile faltering as she examined it closely. “Um, this isn’t really what I was thinking,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “It’s not particularly in style right now.”

Alistair’s confusion was evident, his dark eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean? It’s classic,” he insisted, a hint of defense creeping into his voice. He straightened, crossing his arms once again.

Evie nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly as she felt the weight of the moment. “Still, this was not in the line-up at all. I’d rather go for something lighter and stylish.” She placed the fabric back on the rack, her fingers lingering on the smooth surface for a moment before pulling away.

A tense silence enveloped the group. Alistair’s jaw tightened, and he stared his sister down. “I still hold to the belief it would look good on you,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost defensive.

“It might, however, it’s just not what the bride wants, Your Grace. It’s very outdated. Something lighter would suit her better,” Cecilia interjected, her voice steady but her insides churning.

She felt the weight of the room’s attention shift toward her, the air thickening with anticipation. Out of the corner of her eye as well, she noticed Diana arching an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and surprise.

Cecilia gulped, but she held her gaze firmly on Alistair. He cocked his head slightly, his deep-set eyes narrowing as he studied her.

“It’s traditional. It’s classic,” he replied, his tone low and unwavering. His adjusted his crossed hands, the fabric of his shirt stretching slightly as he leaned in, a subtle challenge in his posture. “Yet, one cannot expect just anyone to appreciate such.”

Cecilia felt a tingling sensation run through her body, a mix of anxiety and determination. It was happening again. For the first in a long time now. The thought of them arguing in front of everyone sent a shiver down her spine.

“But it’s simply not what Evie wants,” she countered, her voice rising slightly, betraying the calm she tried to maintain. She stepped closer to him, her frown fixed, egging him on.

Alistair opened his mouth, and Cecilia braced herself for the inevitable clash. However, to her surprise, he paused, his expression softening. The silence echoed, and she stared at him in wonder as she waited.

“Well, I’ve decided not to meddle in my sister’s decisions unless it’s absolutely necessary,” when he spoke at last, his voice was surprisingly diplomatic.

He… won’t argue?

The tension in Cecilia's shoulders eased slightly, but a pang of hurt washed over her.

“Oh, well that’s very… That’s a commendable thing of you to do, Your Grace,” She nodded. The room seemed to hold its breath, the chatter around them fading into the background.

Alistair nodded, his gaze steady as he continued, “I trust her to make her own choices. If this is what she wants, then I’ll support that.”

Cecilia nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle between them. The tension in the air dissipated, and the families around them returned to their conversations, laughter and chatter filling the space once more.

Yet, beneath her calm exterior, Cecilia felt continuous flickers of sadness. She realized, she wouldn’t have minded a bit of an argument with Alistair.