The door eased open with a soft creak, and Evelyn glanced up from her vanity, hands stilling as she took in Nathaniel's tall silhouette in the doorway. Candlelight caught in the dark waves of his hair and glinted off the sharp angles of his face as he stepped into the room.
"You're late," she greeted warmly, a small smile on her lips. Rising gracefully, she crossed the floor toward him. "How was your day?"
Nathaniel closed the door behind him with his shoulder and watched her approach, his gaze strangely searching. "Long," was all he offered at first, voice low and clipped as always.
She reached up to smooth the front of his shirt, sensing a tension that hadn't been there before. "You seem tired," she murmured, concerned. "Is there something on your mind?"
That was when his hands closed around her waist; firm, possessive drawing her into the solid heat of his body. His dark eyes held hers for a long, weighty moment, unreadable.
"Do you have anything to tell me, Evelyn?"
She blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Anything to tell you?" she echoed.
He didn't let go. If anything, his hands tightened a fraction, fingertips pressing into her back. "Don't play coy," he said, voice threaded with a quiet intensity. "If there is something troubling you... anything at all, why haven't you come to me?"
Her breath hitched. "No… nothing," she answered too quickly, feeling strangely guilty despite herself.
He exhaled sharply, his brow drawing together as if displeased by her answer. "Do you truly believe I wouldn't help you address any grievance?"
She stared up into his face, realizing what he meant: the dressmakers, Mrs. Carroway, Lady Rosalind… all of it. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but still she hesitated. "It's hardly worth mentioning," she began, then paused at the look in his eyes.
"You're my wife," he reminded her in a low, deliberate tone. "And you don't need to endure slights in silence."
The gravity in his voice and the firm strength of his hands on her made her heart flutter. A flush crept up her neck as she searched his face, feeling the weight of his regard.
"My Lord…" she began softly, hands trembling slightly as they rested against his chest. "I never wished to burden you with my trivial worries."
His gaze darkened, an unfamiliar intensity sparking there. "Nothing that concerns you is trivial to me," he said, his lips nearly brushing hers as he spoke, voice a husky murmur that sent a thrill through her. "And I will not have my wife enduring hardship under my roof. Do you understand?"
She could only nod, her breath catching as she felt him lean in closer. The distant, imposing Duke of Wycliffe was gone; in his place was a man fierce and protective and utterly hers.
And in the hush of that candlelit room, wrapped in the shelter of his arms, Evelyn felt a strange, stirring warmth unfurl in her chest that had nothing to do with power or title at all.
The next morning, the Wycliffe household bustled with an unfamiliar tension as every member of staff assembled in the grand hall. Footmen stood at attention, housemaids fidgeted nervously with their hands, and Mrs. Carroway hovered near the front with an unreadable expression.
At the head of the gathering, Nathaniel stood in his usual poised silence, tall, hands clasped behind him, a dark, commanding figure in a crisp morning coat. Beside him was Juliana, her eyes bright with anticipation, and on his other side, Lady Rosalind held herself like a queen in exile: chin tilted upward, hands neatly folded over one another, every inch regal despite the hatred simmering beneath her composed exterior.
Evelyn moved gracefully to stand a pace behind Nathaniel, hands smoothing her skirts to hide her nerves. Her emerald necklace glimmered in the light spilling through the windows, a quiet reminder of who had placed her here.
Nathaniel gave a curt nod to Mrs. Carroway, who then announced, "As you all know, the Duke has an announcement."
Nathaniel's gaze swept across the hall like a blade. "From this day onward," he began, his voice a deep, measured sound that left no room for question, "my wife, the Duchess of Wycliffe, shall oversee all matters concerning the manor."
A tense pause followed and a beat long enough for everyone to glance at one another, their surprise barely masked.
He continued, gaze shifting to Lady Rosalind, sharp as a knife. "Her authority is absolute in this house. Let there be no doubt."
Lady Rosalind's hands flexed, her eyes shuttering as she lowered her chin. She took a breath as if steeling herself before stepping forward. A painted smile curved her lips as she addressed the crowd, voice smooth.
"Indeed," she added warmly, too warmly. "Since the Duchess is here with us, it is only right that she takes care of all matters concerning the manor. I gladly relinquish my duties into her capable hands."
The words tasted bitter, but she spoke them clearly, hands clasping with practiced grace as she inclined her head toward Evelyn in front of everyone.
That was as close to graciousness as Lady Rosalind would ever allow herself. She glanced toward Nathaniel, forcing a trembling smile that failed to hide the bitterness behind it. "From this day forth, all matters of the household shall be managed under Her Grace."
A gloved hand then extended toward Evelyn in a show of handing over authority.
Heart pounding, Evelyn stepped forward and took it, feeling the sharp tension beneath Lady Rosalind's silken glove. "Thank you," she replied softly, voice carrying a quiet steadiness that surprised even herself.
With that gesture, a chapter was closed.
Evelyn felt her stomach flutter strangely; part triumph, part disbelief. She nodded politely as Mrs. Carroway and the assembled staff bent in respectful bows and curtsies, one after the other, their voices chorusing, "As you wish, Your Grace."
And though Evelyn's cheeks warmed with the weight of all those eyes, she held her chin a touch higher, her hands steady at her sides as Lady Rosalind stepped back and Nathaniel gave a brief, approving nod.
"You'll do well," was all he said, his voice a quiet thread meant only for her as he passed by.
She felt her lips curve, barely perceptibly, at that acknowledgment and as she watched him stride out of the hall, shoulders straight and steps confident, a peculiar mixture of pride, relief, and something more unfamiliar began to unfurl in her chest.
From across the hall, Juliana beamed at her, eyes sparkling as she caught her gaze. Cora was practically glowing, hands clasped at her chest as if she could hardly contain her excitement.
"Congratulations, milady," Cora whispered when they crossed paths after the gathering dissolved.
"Thank you," Evelyn replied, voice soft, though her eyes followed Nathaniel's retreating figure as he strode from the hall without so much as a backward glance.
Mixed feelings swirled in her chest, pride at her new role, gratitude for his support, and a strange ache at his fleeting attention. Even so, she straightened her shoulders, determined.
Beside her, Juliana gave an excited little bounce. "Isn't it wonderful? You deserve this," she said warmly.
Evelyn glanced once more toward the door where Nathaniel had disappeared, then turned back to Juliana with a warm smile.
"Yes," she agreed softly, her heart still racing with the enormity of the moment. "It feels like the beginning of something new."