Sunlight streamed through the broad windows of Evelyn's sitting room as the door swung open. Mrs. Carroway appeared first, her posture perfectly straight as she ushered in a neat procession of maids carrying heavy leather-bound ledgers and polished wooden boxes.
Cora, standing at Evelyn's side, couldn't hide the delight sparkling in her eyes. Her hands clasped together in quiet joy as she took in the scene before her, a tangible sign of her mistress's newfound authority.
Mrs. Carroway approached with a graceful bow. "Your Grace," she began respectfully, hands folded at her waist, "as instructed by His Grace, these are the manor's account books, ledgers, and all the necessary ledgers and inventories of the estate. From this day onward, I am at your service."
Her tone was formal, yet sincere and despite the faint wariness that had always lingered in her gaze, this time there was a glimmer of something new: acknowledgment.
Evelyn rose from her chair, hands smoothing the folds of her gown. "Thank you, Mrs. Carroway," she said gently, meeting the housekeeper's eyes. "Your loyalty is appreciated."
The housekeeper inclined her head. "If there's anything you require, please do not hesitate to call on me. I shall do my utmost to serve you, Your Grace."
With that, Mrs. Carroway gestured to the maids and led them silently from the room, the door closing softly behind them.
The quiet that followed was almost reverent. Cora turned to Evelyn, her face alight. "Oh, milady," she burst out, hardly able to contain her excitement, "you finally have what is rightfully yours. And Mrs. Carroway herself pledging her service to you! That truly says much."
Evelyn laughed softly, her fingertips brushing over the embossed leather cover of one of the ledgers. "It's a start," she murmured, a smile playing at her lips as the reality of the moment settled over her.
"You must see," Cora went on warmly, stepping closer, "His Grace must care very much for you to do all this. To stand up for you before everyone. It's plain as day that the Duke holds you in his heart."
Evelyn paused, feeling a pleasant warmth unfurl in her chest at those words. A memory surfaced, Nathaniel's calm yet resolute voice as he had announced her new role that morning, his eyes fixed on her just long enough to show her it mattered to him.
She took a breath, lips curving into a tender smile. "Perhaps," she said quietly, fingers brushing an unfamiliar ledger as if it connected her to him.
Cora's eyes shone. "Oh, milady," she teased gently, "you deserve every bit of this happiness. And this is only the beginning."
Evelyn held her gaze a moment longer before turning back to the books, heart lighter than it had been in a long while.
Meanwhile at Stables,
The scent of hay and polished leather hung in the air as Thomas brushed down a restless bay stallion, the rhythm of his hands sure and practiced. Footsteps, light and hurried sounded behind him, and when he glanced up, a familiar face appeared at the stable door.
"Thomas," came a bright, hopeful voice.
Molly, one of the kitchen maids, stood just inside the threshold. A girl of about sixteen, her brown hair was tucked into a neat kerchief, and warm color bloomed in her cheeks. Her hands cradled a small linen-wrapped bundle that released the faintest scent of sugared pastries. Soft eyes followed him as she stepped closer, lips curved in a gentle smile.
"Morning, Molly," he greeted evenly, brushing his palms against his breeches as he straightened.
"You've been hard at work all morning," she said, stepping into the stable light. Her gaze never strayed far from him. "I thought you might like these." She held the bundle up, hands trembling just a touch. "Fresh pastries. I made sure to save the best for you."
Thomas felt a pang of guilt as he took a careful step back, forcing a polite smile. "That's kind of you," he answered, voice steady and distant.
Still, she came a bit closer, eyes full of unguarded affection. "I worry you don't eat enough," she murmured, then added, her voice soft but earnest, "I know you always work so hard. You deserve someone looking after you, Thomas."
He glanced away, one hand tightening slightly around the brush. "You're too kind," he replied in the same careful tone.
But Molly wasn't satisfied with mere politeness. "I… I've been thinking," she began, her hands trembling as she reached for one of his, placing the pastries into his palm with deliberate care. "You're a good man, Thomas. Ever since I first saw you, I've known my heart. I would wait forever if that's what it takes for you to return my feelings."
Thomas stiffened at her touch. "Molly," he began gently, pulling back just a fraction, "I appreciate your kindness, truly. But I..."
Before he could finish, she closed the distance once more, leaning closer as if hoping proximity would persuade him. Her fingers brushed his as she pressed the little linen packet into his hands.
That was the scene that greeted Juliana as she appeared soundlessly at the stable doors, Molly's face tilted up to him, hands clasping his, so near that they might as well have been lovers.
Juliana's green eyes darkened, pain and jealousy tightening her chest like a vice. Without a word, she spun on her heel and hurried away across the cobblestones, her light skirts swaying wildly with each hurried step.
Thomas caught a glimpse of pale blue silk disappearing around the corner and froze. Instantly, his hands dropped the pastries into Molly's grasp as if they'd burned him.
"A...Lady Juliana...." he started, his heart lurching.
Molly followed his gaze, finally realizing they'd had an audience, but Thomas was already pulling his hands free of hers and setting the pastries aside.
"I must go," he muttered quickly. "Excuse me."
Without waiting for her reply, he strode past her, boots stirring up the hay-dusted floor as he hurried after Juliana, worry and regret knotting in his gut.
Molly remained alone in the stable, lips parting as if to call him back, but no words came. Instead, she held her hands together, her gaze following him long after he was gone.