Chapter 82: You're not Alone

While Juliana spoke excitedly with the others, Evelyn took a moment to look around. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above clusters of guests as servants in dark livery glided between them carrying silver trays.

"Have you met everyone?" Nathaniel's voice was low at her ear, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back.

"Not yet," Evelyn replied, glancing up at him with a small smile.

His dark eyes held hers for a long moment before he bent slightly toward her. "Don't worry," he assured her. "You'll do well."

And somehow, that simple confidence in his voice steadied her.

Around them, nobles glanced their way, some bowing their heads respectfully at Nathaniel's quiet authority, others stealing looks at Evelyn as she stood glowing in emerald green at his side.

The mayor's wife, a plump, kindly woman with warm eyes and a friendly smile, soon appeared to take Evelyn's hands. "Welcome, my dear," Mrs. Belling exclaimed. "And may I say, you are a vision tonight."

Evelyn flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Belling. It's a pleasure to be here."

With a pleased hum, Mrs. Belling gestured toward the ballroom. "Come, let me introduce you to a few of the other ladies."

Evelyn followed with Nathaniel close behind, feeling the rich fabric of her dress trail like a whisper along the floor as they stepped deeper into the light-filled hall, each face they passed politely bowing and each smile measured, but welcoming.

And though nerves fluttered in her chest, Evelyn straightened her shoulders and held her chin a touch higher. She was determined to make a good impression tonight as the Duchess of Wycliffe.

Evelyn moved gracefully among the gathered nobles, Mrs. Belling guiding her with gentle hands from one small cluster of guests to the next. Faces and names spun together in a polite blur: Lady Weatherly with her sharp laugh, Mrs. Greyson with eyes that seemed to judge every inch of her dress, and then Lady Finch, whose genuine compliment on the emerald at her throat helped ease her nerves.

Every so often, Evelyn would catch Nathaniel across the room, his dark gaze seeming to follow her even as he spoke with the mayor and other prominent men of the county. That steady awareness of him was like an anchor, preventing her from drifting too far into discomfort.

Finally, Mrs. Belling brought her to a stop by a small cluster of elegant women seated near one of the windows.

"My dear," Mrs. Belling said warmly, "this is Lady Marlowe, Lady Everly, and Lady Garrison. Ladies, may I present Her Grace, the Duchess of Wycliffe."

They all smiled politely and nodded, the faint rustle of silk rising as they inclined their heads.

"You wear your title with such ease," Lady Garrison observed kindly, "despite being so new to this life."

"You flatter me," Evelyn replied, dipping her chin. "I am still learning."

"Everyone does," Lady Marlowe assured her. "There's nothing like one's first season as a duchess. Almost as dizzying as one's first dance."

The ladies exchanged knowing looks and gentle laughs before Lady Everly spoke up. "You must join us tomorrow for tea at my house. It will give us a more leisurely chance to chat."

"I'd be delighted," Evelyn replied, her smile genuine.

A new voice broke in then, light and teasing. "I hope you won't keep all your stories for Lady Everly."

Evelyn turned and saw Lucille Belling, still at Juliana's side, grinning as she approached. "Is my mother making sure you're properly introduced to everyone?" she asked with a wink.

"She's done a wonderful job," Evelyn replied warmly.

Lucille chuckled. "That's one of her many talents. But allow me to steal you away for a bit before she parades you to the entire county."

Evelyn nodded gratefully, excusing herself from the small group as Lucille led her toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, Juliana trailing close behind.

"You seem to take all this in stride," Lucille remarked as they paused near an open door that overlooked the moonlit gardens.

Evelyn let her shoulders ease a little. "That is mostly an illusion," she said honestly.

Lucille's dark eyes sparkled with sympathy. "I remember my first grand event after my debut. Trust me, it becomes easier with time."

Juliana smiled knowingly. "And just wait until the festival tomorrow. That will feel far less stiff."

"Though," Lucille added, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you may need to keep an eye on some of these ladies. Not all compliments hide good intentions."

Evelyn arched a brow. "That much is clear already."

Before Lucille could respond, a gentle cough pulled their attention to a man standing just behind them.

"Your Grace," he greeted with a short bow.

Evelyn recognized him as one of the men who had been deep in conversation with Nathaniel earlier.

"Lord Tressel," Lucille supplied quickly.

Lord Tressel smiled smoothly. "I hope you're enjoying your evening, Your Grace. If you and the Duke would like, I'd gladly introduce you to my wife. She was most eager to make your acquaintance."

"That's kind of you," Evelyn replied politely, feeling Juliana's elbow nudge hers in encouragement.

Lord Tressel inclined his head before glancing across the hall toward Nathaniel, as if expecting him to appear at any moment. "A fine gathering tonight," he continued smoothly. "Your husband must appreciate the support of so many prominent people."

That subtle emphasis on support and its obvious political undertone was not lost on Evelyn.

Before she could respond, Nathaniel himself appeared at her side as if summoned. His palm brushed hers lightly before he nodded to Lord Tressel, his face composed and unreadable.

"My lord," Nathaniel greeted him in a deep, measured voice.

Lord Tressel's smooth smile never wavered. "Your Grace. I was just telling your lovely wife that tonight is quite the success."

"Is it?" Nathaniel's dark gaze stayed fixed on him.

That single, cool question hung in the air a heartbeat too long, turning the polite pleasantry into something more deliberate. Lord Tressel's smile faltered just a hair before recovering, then he bowed again.

"Of course," he murmured, stepping back with a graceful gesture before retreating into the crowd.

Evelyn felt Nathaniel's fingers curl lightly around hers. "Come," he said simply, his voice quieter now as he inclined his head toward the gardens.

And as they moved toward the terrace together, a tension she hadn't been fully aware of began to ease.

The terrace was blissfully quiet after the hum of polite laughter and clinking glasses inside. Evelyn's heels clicked softly against the stone as Nathaniel guided her outside into the cool night air.

He released her hand at last, hands clasping behind his back as he stared into the gardens. Silvered by the moonlight, the clipped hedges and sprawling rosebushes made shapes like slumbering beasts in the dark.

"You seem tense," Evelyn ventured after a long pause.

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "The evening requires a particular kind of patience."

"More than usual?"

A faint curve touched his lips before it disappeared. "More than most."

Evelyn shifted her weight, feeling emboldened by their moment alone. "That's what all these events are like, then? Constant undercurrents and careful words?"

"Especially when the county is watching," Nathaniel replied evenly.

Her brow furrowed, sensing there was more beneath his words. "Is someone troubling you tonight?"

For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. Then his dark gaze found hers. "Lord Tressel," he said at last, voice low. "He plays at civility, but every smile masks some new calculation."

"You don't trust him."

"That would imply I trusted him once," Nathaniel answered dryly, stepping closer so that the cool edge of his voice was softened by his nearness. "He and several others like him have hopes of their own for the future. Some feel my influence too sharp already."

Evelyn held his gaze, breath stirring in her throat. "And they want you out of their way," she guessed.

He inclined his chin. "Or at their side. And they'll go to some lengths to ensure it."

The weight of his words pressed into the silence between them, and she thought of the tense exchange earlier; the careful, assessing glances that had followed him all night.

"You're accustomed to this sort of thing," she murmured.

"That doesn't mean I enjoy it," Nathaniel replied simply.

She studied him for a breath, sensing the burden he rarely allowed to show. Then, almost without thought, she reached out and brushed her fingers against the edge of his sleeve.

"You're not alone," she whispered.

The honesty in her words seemed to surprise him. A slow, deliberate breath moved his chest as if something had eased beneath the tension.

"You have a way of saying exactly what I need to hear," he murmured, his voice deeper now, lower and something in the look he gave her sparked a familiar heat.

Before she could say more, distant footsteps on the terrace broke the fragile hush.