10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

E velyn sat at the head of the dining table, her back straight and her hands folded neatly in her lap. Augusta and Julia flanked her on either side, their faces a mix of curiosity and mild boredom.

"Now, girls," Evelyn began, her voice soft but firm, "when engaging in conversation with a gentleman at the table, one must strike a delicate balance. You wish to be engaging without appearing overly eager."

A look of confusion crossed Augusta's face. "But why should we care what they think of us?"

Evelyn suppressed a smile. "It's not about their opinion of you, my dear. It's about maintaining your own dignity and reputation."

Julia leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "How does one appear interesting without being too forward?"

"An excellent question," Evelyn replied. "The key is to—"

The door swung open with a creak, cutting off Evelyn's words. Baron Hastings strode into the room, his tall frame filling the doorway. His eyes darted from Evelyn to his daughters, a frown etching deep lines around his mouth.

"What's all this, then?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Evelyn's heart quickened, but she kept her composure. "Good afternoon, Baron. We were just discussing the finer points of dinner conversation."

The Baron's eyebrows shot up. "Dinner conversation? Is this what you are spending your time on?"

"Of course, Father," Julia chimed in. "Miss Bane was about to tell us how to speak with gentlemen without appearing too forward."

The Baron's frown deepened. "Gentlemen? What gentlemen?"

Evelyn felt a flush creep up her neck. "It's merely a hypothetical situation, Baron. I assure you, we're not planning any mixed dinner parties."

"See that you don't," he growled. His gaze lingered on Evelyn for a moment longer than necessary, and she felt a strange flutter in her chest.

Evelyn lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by the Baron's intimidating presence. A spark of defiance ignited within her, overriding her sense of decorum. "I beg your pardon, Baron, but this is an important part of a young lady's education."

The Baron's eyes flashed. "It won't be a part of these young ladies' education."

"You're not allowing me to do my job," Evelyn retorted, her voice rising slightly. She was acutely aware of how improper her behaviour was, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"You had specific instructions," the Baron fired back, his jaw clenching.

Augusta and Julia's heads swivelled back and forth between their father and governess, their eyes wide with fascination. The tension in the room crackled like static electricity.

Evelyn stood, her hands braced against the table. "And those instructions were to prepare them for independence. How can they be truly independent if they can't navigate social situations?"

The Baron took a step forward, his presence looming. "They won't need to navigate those situations if they never enter them."

"That's utterly unrealistic," Evelyn scoffed, her cheeks flushed with emotion.

"It's my decision," the Baron growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Evelyn opened her mouth to argue further, but caught herself. She glanced at the girls, who were watching the exchange with rapt attention, and realised how far she'd overstepped. She closed her mouth sharply with a click of her teeth. The Baron, clearly taking this as a sign of victory, straightened with a slightly smug tilt to his chin.

Evelyn watched as the Baron turned on his heel, preparing to leave the dining room. His broad shoulders were set in a rigid line, radiating an air of superiority that made her blood simmer. The way he carried himself, as if his word was law and not to be questioned, struck a raw nerve within her.

Memories of the Judge's controlling manner flashed through her mind, and something inside Evelyn snapped. She would not be cowed by another man, not ever again. Without thinking, she hurried after the Baron, her nostrils flaring and eyes flashing.

"Baron Hastings," she called, her voice sharper than she'd intended. "A word, if you please."

He paused at the threshold, turning slowly to face her. His grey eyes were stormy, but Evelyn refused to be intimidated. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely.

"I believe we have more to discuss regarding your daughters' education," she said, her tone clipped and formal despite the anger coursing through her veins.

The Baron's jaw tightened. "I thought we had settled the matter, Miss Bane."

"Settled?" Evelyn let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Hardly. You cannot simply dictate terms without considering the consequences."

She was dimly aware that she was overstepping her bounds, that her position hung by a thread, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. The words tumbled out, fuelled by a righteous indignation she hadn't known she possessed.

"Your daughters deserve a complete education, one that prepares them for all aspects of life. You cannot shelter them forever, my lord."

The Baron's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he turned his face more fully toward her, giving her an unobstructed view of the scars that ran up the side of his face. It was clearly meant to intimidate her, but to her credit, Evelyn stood her ground. "I can, and I will. You forget your place, Miss Bane."

His dismissive tone only served to stoke the flames of Evelyn's anger. She took a step closer, her hands clenched at her sides.

"My place?" she hissed, her voice low but intense. "My place is to educate and guide your daughters to the best of my ability. If you cannot see the value in that, then perhaps it is you who has forgotten his place as a father."

Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest as the silence stretched between them. She wondered if she had truly gone too far this time, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. Inwardly, she felt a twinge of regret for her sharp tongue, but outwardly, she kept her face set in a mask of determination.

The Baron stared at her, his grey eyes unreadable. Evelyn could almost see the thoughts churning behind his stern visage, weighing the merits of continuing their argument. She braced herself for another verbal assault, her chin lifted defiantly.

"I have bigger problems to attend to at the moment," he said at last, as if that were the sword that cut off their argument with finality. He strode away from Miss Bane and was at the front door before she gathered herself up and hurried after him once again.

Evelyn hurried after the Baron, her skirts rustling as she caught up to him at the front door. A footman was already there, handing him his hat and a sturdy walking stick. She felt a flicker of frustration at his dismissive attitude.

"My lord," she said, her voice firm despite her racing heart, "we are not finished with this discussion. There's more to settle on this score."

The Baron paused, one hand on the doorknob. He turned to face her, his grey eyes unreadable beneath the brim of his hat. For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension palpable between them.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. "Miss Bane, I hope you can argue and walk at the same time, because I cannot devote any more time to this discussion while standing still."

Without waiting for her response, he strode out onto the gravel drive. Evelyn blinked in surprise, then gathered her skirts and hurried after him. She was not about to let this matter drop so easily.

As she fell into step beside him, Evelyn realised she had never been this close to the Baron before. His long strides forced her to walk at a brisk pace, and she could smell the faint scent of leather and tobacco that clung to his coat. It was oddly distracting, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"My lord," she began, slightly breathless from the exertion, "I understand your concerns for your daughters' welfare, but surely you can see the importance of a well-rounded education?"

The Baron kept his gaze fixed ahead, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "I see the importance of keeping them safe, Miss Bane. The world is not kind to young women who are unprepared for its harsh realities."

Evelyn felt a pang of empathy at his words, recognising the fear that lay beneath his gruff exterior. Yet she pressed on, determined to make him understand.

Evelyn took a deep breath, steeling herself for the argument ahead. She could feel the Baron's stubbornness radiating off him in waves, but she refused to back down.

"My lord," she began. Her voice was steady despite her racing heart. "I must point out that if we don't teach the girls how to interact with gentlemen, they will be wholly unprepared when the time comes that they must do so."

The Baron's frown deepened, etching harsh lines around his mouth. He stopped abruptly, turning to face her with a thunderous expression. "They won't ever need to, Miss Bane. It's a waste of time."

Evelyn felt a flicker of frustration at his obstinance. She opened her mouth to argue further, but he cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

"If you're so pressed for ideas on lessons, spend more time on mathematics," he growled. "I don't want them wasting any time on silly nonsense, like dancing or how to hold a parasol."

His dismissive tone made Evelyn's cheeks flush with indignation. She took a step closer, her eyes flashing with determination. "With all due respect, Baron, those skills are not 'silly nonsense'. They are essential for young ladies to navigate society, regardless of whether you wish them to or not."

The Baron's jaw clenched, and Evelyn could see the muscle ticking in his cheek. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but she couldn't let this go. The girls' future was at stake.

"Society," he spat the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "What society do you think there is to be had out here?" he said, gesturing broadly with a sweep of his arm. Evelyn glanced about herself, realising that the Baron's brisk walking had led them farther than she had thought. In a field across the lane, a pair of cows watched them with lipid eyes, chewing great mouthfuls of grass lazily.

Evelyn watched as the Baron nodded triumphantly, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He clearly thought he'd made an irrefutable point about the girls' isolation. Without another word, he set off again, his long strides carrying him swiftly towards the cows' enclosure.

Evelyn's eyes widened as she watched him approach the stile. Surely he didn't expect her to—

But he did. With practised ease, the Baron stepped up and over the wooden structure, landing gracefully on the other side. He turned back to her, his eyebrows raised in challenge. The message was clear: he thought this would be too much for her, that she'd turn back now, effectively ending their argument.

A spark of defiance ignited in Evelyn's chest. She'd be damned if she let him win so easily. Gathering her skirts in one hand, she approached the stile with determination. It was higher than she'd anticipated, and for a moment, doubt crept in. But the sight of the Baron's smug expression steeled her resolve.

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn placed one foot on the first step. Her shoes, more suited to London drawing rooms than country fields, offered little purchase on the worn wood. She wobbled slightly but pressed on, gripping the top of the stile with white-knuckled hands.

With an ungainly movement, she swung her leg over the top. For a terrifying moment, she teetered precariously, certain she would topple over in an undignified heap. But then, with a final push, she made it to the other side.

Her landing was far from graceful. Her feet slipped on the damp grass, and she stumbled forward, arms windmilling as she fought to keep her balance. By some miracle, she managed to stay upright, though her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Straightening up, Evelyn met the Baron's astonished gaze. His eyes were wide with surprise, clearly not having expected her to follow. A small, triumphant smile tugged at her lips as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

"You were saying, my lord?" she asked, her voice steady despite her breathlessness.

Evelyn watched as the Baron set off again, his long strides carrying him down the field with grim determination. The ground beneath her feet grew softer with each step, and she silently cursed her choice of footwear. Her delicate shoes, more suited to London drawing rooms than muddy country fields, sank into the earth with alarming ease.

Still, she refused to be deterred. Gathering her skirts higher, she hurried after the Baron, her mind racing as she tried to formulate her next argument. The squelching sound of her shoes in the mud was most undignified, but she pressed on, unwilling to let him win this battle of wills.

"My lord," she called out, slightly breathless from the exertion, "surely there must be occasions for socialising, even out here in the country?"

The Baron's response was a derisive snort, tossed over his shoulder without breaking his stride.

Evelyn's face tightened in focus. Her brows slightly furrowed as she picked her way through the increasingly treacherous terrain. Her eyes darted between the ground and the Baron's retreating back, trying to find the safest path while keeping up with his relentless pace.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. "What about harvest festivals?" she asked, her voice carrying across the field. "Or country fairs? Surely such events are common in these parts?" She resorted to hopping from foot to foot, trying not to sink deeper into the mud as she followed him.

Evelyn noticed the Baron's pace slowing, and a flicker of triumph sparked within her. She had struck a chord, and she wasn't about to let this advantage slip away.

Carefully picking her way through the muddy field, she pressed on. "My lord, what about tenant suppers after the harvest? I've heard it's quite a common celebration among country estates. Surely your daughters would be expected to attend such gatherings?"

The Baron's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't turn to face her. Evelyn took his silence as encouragement to continue.

"And if your daughters are to inherit the estate one day," she ventured, her voice growing more confident despite her precarious footing, "wouldn't it be their duty to host such events? To maintain good relations with the tenants and oversee the running of the estate?"

She watched as the Baron's steps faltered slightly, his hand tightening on his walking stick. Evelyn held her breath, waiting for his response. She knew she was treading on delicate ground, both literally and figuratively, but she couldn't back down now.

"That's... different," the Baron finally grumbled, his voice low and reluctant.

Evelyn sensed an opening and pressed on, her words coming out in a rush. "But it's not, my lord. These are precisely the sort of social situations the girls need to be prepared for. They'll need to know how to converse with people from all walks of life, how to manage a household, how to host gatherings. These skills are essential, whether they marry or not."

The Baron came to a complete stop, turning to face her with a conflicted expression. Evelyn could see the internal struggle playing out across his features, a deep line formed on his forehead as he considered his thoughts

Evelyn watched the Baron's face intently, searching for any sign of concession. To her surprise, his expression softened slightly, the harsh lines around his mouth easing. For a moment, she dared to hope that she had finally broken through his stubborn resolve.

But then, something shifted in his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched, and a bemused look spread across his features. Evelyn felt her earlier triumph evaporate, replaced by a prickle of defensiveness.