Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

" S top here, please. I would like a moment to clear my head."

"Yes, Miss."

As her carriage rolled to a stop a walkable distance from Elderglen Manor, Evelina heaved a weary sigh.

The facade of the once-grand estate showed signs of neglect, mirroring the state of affairs within. She gathered her skirts and stepped down from the carriage, her mind still reeling from her interview with the insufferable Duke of Dunmore.

The memory of their encounter made her cheeks burn with a mix of indignation and embarrassment. How dare he question her qualifications so thoroughly? And how could she have allowed herself to be provoked into such impertinence? Evelina groaned inwardly, recalling the moment her temper had gotten the better of her.

Surely, tutoring one little girl could not be compared to raising four completely different girls, each one with a special set of problems and challenges. If she had managed that, who was he to question her ability to do the same with his daughter?

"Miss Balfour!"

The shrill voice of Mrs. Higgins, their housekeeper, cut through her reverie. "Thank heavens you've returned. Miss Margaret has been in quite a state, and Miss Louisa has barricaded herself in the library again."

Evelina pinched the bridge of her nose, willing away the headache that threatened to bloom. "I see. And what of Penelope and Alexandra?"

"Last I saw, they were chasing each other through the rose garden, Miss. I fear for Mrs. Wilmington's prized blooms."

"Very well, Mrs. Higgins. I shall attend to them at once. Has my father returned?"

The housekeeper's face fell. "I'm afraid not, Miss. He left word that he would be dining at his club this evening."

Of course he had .

Evelina nodded, dismissing Mrs. Higgins with a tight smile. As she climbed the steps to the manor's entrance, she steeled herself for the chaos that awaited within, all the while unable to put thoughts of the Duke out of her mind.

The way he had managed to see right through her carefully constructed facade of calm competence with barely any effort. The way he had stood tall, every inch the arrogant aristocrat, had set her teeth on edge…

No sooner had she crossed the threshold than a blur of golden curls and pink lace came barreling towards her.

"Evie! You're home, at last!" Margaret, her eyes wide with distress, clutched at her arm. "You must come quickly. I've tried on every gown in my wardrobe, and not a single one is suitable for Lady Ashworth's ball next week. It's a disaster!"

Evelina patted her sister's hand, forcing a calm she did not feel. "Now, now, Maggie. I'm certain we can find a solution. But first, where are Penelope and Alexandra?"

As if summoned by their names, two more blurs—one of chestnut-brown curls, the other of honey-blonde curls—came tearing through the foyer, their laughter echoing off the high ceiling.

"Penny! Alexa! Cease this nonsense at once!" Evelina's voice cracked like a whip, halting the girls in their tracks. "What have I told you about running in the house?"

Penelope, the youngest at twelve, had the grace to look abashed. "We're sorry, Evie. We were only playing."

Alexandra, fourteen and ever-practical, added, "We didn't break anything this time."

Evelina closed her eyes briefly, praying for patience. "This time," she echoed. "And what of Mrs. Wilmington's roses?"

The guilty look the two girls exchanged spoke volumes.

Evelina sighed. "Very well. Penelope, Alexandra, you will both write letters of apology to Mrs. Wilmington this evening. And tomorrow, you shall assist her in tending to her garden as recompense."

"But Evie—" Penelope began to protest.

"No buts," Evelina cut her off firmly. "Actions have consequences, my dear. Now, off you go to begin your letters. I shall inspect them before supper."

As her two youngest sisters trudged up the stairs, Evelina turned her attention back to Margaret. "Now, about your gowns?—"

"Oh, Evie, it's hopeless!" Margaret wailed. "They're all at least two Seasons out of fashion. How am I to make a good impression at my debut if I look like a country bumpkin?"

Evelina guided her sister towards the drawing room, her mind already calculating the cost of new fabric.

The memory of the Duke's opulent study flashed through her mind, the stark contrast between his wealth and their genteel poverty making her chest tighten with anxiety.

"Let us examine what we have to work with, shall we?" she said, pushing those thoughts aside. "I'm certain with a few alterations, we can create something magnificent."

As they entered the drawing room, Evelina caught sight of Louisa curled up on the window seat, with a book in her lap. At sixteen, Louisa was the most introverted of the Balfour sisters, preferring the company of literary heroes to that of real people.

"Louisa, dear," Evelina called softly. "Would you be so kind as to assist us? We could use your discerning eye."

Louisa glanced up, a flicker of interest crossing her face before she schooled her features into careful indifference. "I suppose I could spare a moment," she said, marking her place in the book before joining them.

For the next hour, Evelina sifted through Margaret's wardrobe, assessing each gown with a critical eye.

She laid out the most promising pieces, her mind whirring with possibilities for updates and alterations. All the while, her thoughts kept drifting back to the Duke and the opportunity she may have squandered.

She thought of the man's daughter. Unlike her, Evelina had not had an army of nursemaids at her disposal to help with her sisters, just the housekeeper, who had been sorely tested to run far away from the entire family but stayed on only due to a sense of responsibility.

If only Evelina had held her tongue, if only she had been more demure and acquiescent. But no, the very thought of simpering and bowing to that man's arrogance made her blood boil. And yet, was her pride worth the cost of her family's security?

Stop thinking of the man!

She closed her eyes to steady herself, allowing herself to return to the conversation with her sisters.

"Perhaps if we add some lace to the sleeves of the blue silk dress," Louisa suggested, her earlier disinterest giving way to genuine engagement.

Evelina nodded approvingly, grateful for the distraction from her tumultuous thoughts. "An excellent idea, Lou. And if we turn up the hem a bit, it will be perfectly in line with the current fashion."

Margaret, however, remained unconvinced. "But what of the gown for my debut? Surely I cannot appear in an altered hand-me-down!"

Evelina felt a pang of guilt. How she longed to give Margaret the debut she deserved, the debut Evelina herself had forsaken for the sake of her sisters.

"We shall find a way, Maggie. I promise you."

A commotion from the hallway drew their attention. The sound of the front door slamming shut, followed by unsteady footsteps, heralded their father's return.

"Yoo-hoo! Where are my lovely girls?" James Balfour's slurred voice echoed through the house.

Evelina exchanged a look with her sisters. "Stay here," she instructed them quietly. "I shall deal with Papa."

She found her father in his study, fumbling with the lock on his desk drawer. "Papa," she said, keeping her voice level. "I thought you were dining at your club this evening."

James looked up, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Ah, Evelina, my girl. Yes, well, the evening took an unexpected turn. A stroke of bad luck at the tables, I'm afraid."

Evelina's heart sank. "How much, Papa?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing to concern yourself with. A trifling amount, really. I'll win it back next time, you'll see."

"Papa," Evelina pressed, a sharp edge to her voice. " How. Much? "

James hesitated, then mumbled a sum that made Evelina's blood run cold. It was more than a trifle. It was more than they could afford to lose.

"Good God, Papa," she breathed. "How could you be so reckless? Do you not realize what this means for the girls? For their futures?"

Her father had the grace to look ashamed, if only for a moment. "Now, now, Evelina. You mustn't fret so. These things have a way of working themselves out."

Evelina felt her carefully maintained composure begin to crack. "Work themselves out? And how, pray tell, do you imagine that will happen? Shall we simply wait for pennies to rain down from the heavens?"

"Mind your tone, young lady," James snapped sternly. "I am still the master of this house."

"Are you?" Evelina challenged, her voice low and dangerous. "For it seems to me that you have abdicated that responsibility along with all others. Tell me, Father , when was the last time you inquired after your daughters' well-being? When was the last time you concerned yourself with anything beyond your next game of chance?"

James recoiled as if slapped, his face flushing with anger and shame. "You forget yourself, Evelina. I have given you and your sisters everything?—"

"You have given us nothing but uncertainty and disappointment," Evelina cut him off, her cheeks reddening with barely contained fury. "It is I who has raised them, I who has seen to their education, their needs, their futures. And now, with your carelessness, you threaten to undo all of that work."

For a long moment, Evelina refused to look away. She had suffered enough for the day, and she couldn't hold back anymore. Not this time.

Finally, James looked away.

"What would you have me do?" he asked, his voice small and defeated.

Evelina took a deep breath, forcing her anger back down. "Tomorrow, we should discuss how we might salvage what remains of our finances. For now, I will take care of this. You should get some rest."

As her father shuffled out of the study, Evelina allowed herself a moment of weakness, sinking into his chair and burying her face in her hands.

How had it come to this? How much longer could she hold their family together by sheer force of will?

A timid knock at the door pulled her from her despair. She looked up to find Margaret hovering in the doorway, concern etched on her delicate features.

"Evie? Is everything all right?"

Evelina forced a smile, rising from the chair. "Of course, dear. Just a small disagreement with Papa. Nothing for you to worry about."

Margaret didn't look convinced. "I heard raised voices. And… and I heard what Papa said about losing money."

Evelina's heart clenched. Of course Margaret had heard. She was far too observant for her own good.

"It's nothing we cannot overcome," Evelina assured her, though the words felt hollow even to her ears.

"But what of my debut?" Margaret asked, her voice small. "What of… what of our dowries?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Evelina crossed the room, taking her sister's hands in her own. "Listen to me, Maggie. I promise on my life that you will have your debut. You will have your Season, and you will shine brighter than any diamond of the ton . As for our dowries…" She hesitated, not wanting to lie but unwilling to crush her sister's hopes. "We shall find a way. We always do."

Margaret nodded, squeezing Evelina's hands. "I know you'll take care of everything, Evie. You always do."

The trust in her sister's eyes was almost more than Evelina could bear. She pulled Margaret into a tight embrace, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability.

"Now then," she said, pulling back and plastering on a bright smile. "Let's see what we can do about that gown for Lady Ashworth's ball, shall we?"

As they made their way back to the drawing room, Evelina's mind raced. She had promised Margaret her debut, her Season, a chance at finding a good match. But with their finances in such dire straits, how could she possibly keep that promise?

Her thoughts turned once again to the Duke of Dunmore and the interview that morning. Despite her misgivings, despite the way his very presence seemed to set her nerves on edge, she couldn't deny the opportunity—if it still stood—presented.

The salary would surely be generous, given his status and wealth. It would be enough to secure Margaret's debut, to shore up their finances. But had she ruined her chances with her sharp tongue and quick temper?

Evelina recalled the way the Duke's eyes had narrowed at her impertinent remarks, the way his jaw had clenched as if holding back a biting retort.

And yet, there had been that moment—just before she had taken her leave—when something like admiration had flickered across his face.

Now, as she looked at Margaret, so full of hope and excitement for her future, Evelina knew she had no choice. For her sisters, she would do anything. Even if it meant putting herself at the mercy of the Duke.

As they reached the drawing room, where Louisa was still poring over fashion plates, Evelina made her decision. She would write to the Duke this very evening, apologizing for her behavior and reiterating her interest in the position—if he had not already dismissed her from consideration.

"Evie?" Margaret's voice broke through her thoughts. "You look pale. Are you certain you're all right?"

Evelina nodded with a smile. However, as she bent over the swaths of fabric, her mind was far away, already composing the letter that would seal her fate. Given her father's consistent desire to ruin their futures, this looked like a live-or-die moment for her.

And as night fell over Elderglen Manor, as her sisters retired to their beds and an uneasy silence fell over the house, Evelina sat at her small writing desk, quill poised over parchment. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.

Your Grace , she began to write, her hand trembling ever so slightly, I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you regarding our meeting this morning…

With each word, Evelina felt as though her pride was slipping through her fingers.

I cannot afford to have pride anyway…