Chapter 83: Mingling with the Noblewomen

The light inside the ballroom was warm and golden, glinting off jewels and embroidered silks as Evelyn followed Nathaniel into the crowd. Every corner of the hall seemed alive with whispered intrigue and polite laughter as lords and ladies exchanged greetings, gossip, and the kind of small talk that came as second nature in such circles.

With his arm a steady weight at her back, Nathaniel introduced her to the assembled nobles.

"Lord and Lady Fenwick," he began, nodding toward a gracious couple in fine blue.

"A pleasure," Evelyn murmured as they complimented her gown and wished them a long and harmonious union.

"You do honor the house of Wycliffe," the Lady Fenwick smiled warmly.

Evelyn's face glowed at the praise, Nathaniel's subtle glance making her feel all the more radiant.

As her husband was drawn aside by a group of visiting dignitaries, Evelyn found herself gently guided into a smaller circle of noblewomen seated near a set of tall windows.

"You must join us, Your Grace," offered Lady Hartfield, her eyes twinkling as she gestured to the empty chair at her side.

Evelyn thanked her and sat gracefully, feeling the light brush of silk skirts and perfume all around her. The others introduced themselves quickly: Lady Constance, a fiery redhead with a sharp smile; Lady Ames, demure and gentle-spoken; and Lady Denham, who laughed readily and often.

"Such a lovely gown," remarked Lady Ames, smoothing a gloved hand over her skirts. "Your seamstress must be an artist."

Evelyn inclined her head. "She is," she agreed, "but I must admit my sister-in-law had a fine hand in choosing the fabric."

That earned an approving hum, everyone loved to hear of good sisterly bonds in powerful houses.

Before long, their talk drifted from fashions and fabrics to the newest play staged in town, then on to the best venues for the upcoming season. Evelyn listened and responded politely, becoming more at ease with each moment. The women were polished but warm beneath their well-bred manners, their laughter sincere.

"Have you visited the summer gardens lately?" Lady Constance asked.

Evelyn nodded. "Once... they were quite lovely."

"Ah," Lady Denham sighed. "My husband took me there last summer, and I thought myself in a dream. But men rarely appreciate gardens as we do."

That earned knowing chuckles around the circle.

"They rarely appreciate most of what matters," Lady Hartfield agreed playfully. "Especially once they grow comfortable."

There was a sly look exchanged between a few of the wives, and Lady Ames gave a conspiratorial smile.

"Is that not the eternal trouble?" she asked. "Keeping them captivated."

Evelyn's brow furrowed in shy curiosity.

"Captivated?"

"Yes," Lady Constance purred, swirling her glass thoughtfully. "When we were young brides, we believe their attentions will never waver. But the wise wife knows that men must be reminded of what they could lose."

A few of them nodded sagely.

"That...," added Lady Denham, leaning closer, "is where a bit of ingenuity comes in."

At this, Lady Hartfield winked. "A clever wife," she went on, "makes sure her husband never takes her for granted and never looks elsewhere."

"Your Grace," teased one of the younger wives with a wink, "tell us... is the Duke as passionate behind closed doors as they say?"

Evelyn's eyes widened, and heat rushed to her face. The other ladies broke into delighted laughter at her obvious blush.

"Oh, do forgive us," Lady Hartfield chuckled, fanning herself. "But we've all been curious.

Every one of us here has a tale or two about keeping a husband satisfied and himself firmly at home."

Evelyn felt her cheeks warming as she listened, intrigued despite herself.

"You mean...," she began carefully, "you make sure they cannot look elsewhere."

The ladies burst into gentle, delighted laughter again.

"Oh, Your Grace," Lady Hartfield cooed warmly, "it's an art. Every one of us has a secret a song sung when no one listens, a silk ribbon left where only he will find it. Even the most dignified gentleman can be led."

"You don't believe so?" teased Lady Denham, eyes sparkling. "Surely you've seen how the Duke looks at you."

Evelyn felt the flush rise to her ears as she thought of Nathaniel's gaze, sometimes so stern, yet darkened with something deeper when they were alone.

"Yes," she said softly. "And I wish him to look at me that way always."

"Then don't be too proper in the dark," Lady Constance said with a wink. "The ballroom is for society, but your chamber... that is a world you command."

Emboldened by their playful candor and a glass of sparkling wine pressed into her hands, Evelyn listened as they swapped wicked stories, some so risqué that they had her biting her lip in disbelief.

"Never let them grow bored," Lady Denham whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer. "A bit of lace and a well-placed touch can make even the most stubborn of husbands pliant."

"And don't overlook the power of surprise," another laughed. "My lord nearly forgot his hunting trip once after I..."

The ladies broke into more laughter before one playfully scolded her to hush, lest they scandalize their new friend entirely.

Still blushing, Evelyn couldn't help but smile at their openness. Despite their status and grand titles, here they were clever, bold, and full of earthy humor.

"Don't worry," Lady Hartfield said kindly as she patted Evelyn's hand. "You'll find your own way to keep him captivated. Just don't be too timid. The most dignified women often hide the most inventive hearts."

Evelyn took another sip of her drink, cheeks pink but eyes bright with amusement, and thought of Nathaniel across the room. Perhaps these ladies were right, perhaps boldness, when the doors were closed, was as important as grace beneath the chandeliers.

By the time the conversation drifted on to lighter gossip: a bold new lacemaker in town, the mayor's approaching harvest festival, Evelyn felt a different kind of warmth spreading through her. It was not just the wine or the company, but the realization that these poised, elegant women held a strength beyond what most men saw.

And as she listened, she thought again of Nathaniel across the hall: stern, powerful, his brow lowered in quiet thought. A smile tugged at her lips. Let him never take her for granted. Let him come home and look for her with eyes darkened by more than responsibility.

And one day, she thought, they will not need to be reminded.