The carriage rattled down the stone road and Alistair leaned back in his seat.
The door opened. Sir Gustav entered and closed it behind him. He carried a satchel, his face composed but watchful. He bowed low.
"Your Grace," Gustav said.
Alistair did not turn at once. He kept his eyes on the street beyond the glass. "You have news."
"Yes." Gustav unrolled a sheaf of notes. His tone was steady, but he measured each word. "The Crown Prince's faction grows restless. They meet more often. Their voices are sharper. They say your influence stretches too far."
Alistair's lips curved faintly. "They confuse steadiness for ambition. This is not new."
Gustav shifted, producing a smaller slip of parchment. He held it with care. "There is one more report. It concerns Lady Everleigh."
Alistair's gaze snapped to him. His voice cut through the close air. "Speak."
"She was seen at Aurora Lake. With young Duke Ravenscroft."
Alistair's jaw tightened, though his voice stayed even. Gustav added quickly, "The whispers spread already. Aurora Lake is known for secrecy. For lovers. The talk claims their meeting was not chance."
The wheels turned on stone. The silence stretched until Alistair spoke. His words were low and precise. "Whispers are weeds. Pull one, three more rise. We will not silence this one. We will redirect it."
Gustav raised his brows. "Redirect, Your Grace?"
Alistair leaned forward slightly. His eyes sharpened. "Let them speak of Lady Everleigh with a Duke. But not Ravenscroft. Me. Say I dined at Everleigh House. Say the Marquess welcomed me. Speak only truth. Then let repetition do the rest."
Realization dawned. Gustav inclined his head. "Then the talk frames you as suitor. Respectable. Expected. No scandal."
"Exactly." Alistair's voice hardened. "If Evelina is drawn into gossip, let it build her standing, not tear it down. A hidden lake with Ravenscroft taints her honor. A visit from me protects it. I will not have him steal her name into whispers."
Gustav bowed lower. "It will be done, and quietly."
Alistair leaned back once more, but his composure was not whole. His eyes flickered, restless beneath calm. If the court insisted on weaving tales, then he would direct the thread.
As the carriage rolled through the city, Alistair's thoughts lingered on her. Evelina deserved more than the weight of rumors. He would see to it her name carried honor, even if the court tried to twist it.
***
Morning broke pale and sharp over Ravenscroft estate. Lucian sat in his study. The fire had burned low, leaving only embers. He held the morning paper flat before him.
Grand Duke Montclair dines with House Everleigh. Whispers of an imminent union.
Lucian stared at the words until the letters blurred. He had expected the court to twist stories, but the neat print struck like a blow.
The sound of a step shifted the air. His knight emerged from shadow and bowed.
"My lord," the knight said. "As you expected, the whispers of Aurora Lake fade. A trace here or there, nothing more. The court speaks only of Montclair now. They say he prepares an announcement."
Lucian folded the paper with slow precision. His voice was quiet. "Montclair moves faster than I thought. Clever."
The knight asked, "Shall I act against the story?"
"No," Lucian said. His hand lingered on the folded edge. "Let them believe what they want. Their games mean nothing to me."
He turned his face toward the tall window. Outside, the gardens caught the sun. For a breath, he saw her again by the lake. Her laugh, bright and unguarded. Her eyes quick with mischief. The way her voice softened when she called him Lucian, not title, not name of estate, but him.
That memory steadied him more than anger.
He turned back to his knight. "What matters is not gossip, but Montclair himself. Watch him. Every guest at his table, every lord he courts, every ally he binds. Bring me word. If he seeks to draw Evelina into his circle, I will see it laid bare."
The knight bowed. "It will be done."
When the man slipped back into silence, Lucian sat alone once more. His reflection looked back from the glass. Calm. Still. But beneath the surface, a fire burned that the court did not see.
He spoke low, almost to himself. "Let them whisper of Montclair. They do not know her heart. When choice comes, it will not be him."
***
Everleigh House stirred to life with morning calm, but Evelina's heart was restless. She lingered in the breakfast room with Arabella and Clarissa. The scent of tea and warm bread filled the air.
Clarissa leaned across the table, eyes bright. "Did you see the Gazette? They say the Grand Duke dined here. Everyone expects an announcement soon."
Evelina's fingers tightened around her cup. She lifted it with care, masking the tension in her hand. She smiled faintly. "Yes. The court has an imagination."
Arabella's gaze searched her face. "It is not cruel, Evee. He has always treated you with respect."
Evelina rose, smoothing her skirts. Her voice was calm, but firm. "Respect is not the question. The question is assumption. Assumption without truth."
Her sisters fell silent as she left the room. Her steps rang soft but quick across the floor. In her chamber, she closed the door and let her breath rush out.
"Anna," she called. Her maid looked up from folded linens. "Bring me paper and ink. And the quilt on the high shelf. I must write."
Anna obeyed without a word, her eyes following her lady's expression. Evelina sat at her desk. The light from the tall window fell on the blank page.
She dipped the pen and began.
Your Grace,
Rumors reach me of your visit. I must insist they end. They misrepresent both my family and myself.
She paused, the nib resting against the page. She wrote on.
While I respect your friendship, my name is not for speculation. I trust you will act to correct this.
She read it twice. Each word was measured, firm but polite. She folded the page with steady fingers and slid it into the quilt Anna had brought.
"This must leave today," Evelina said. "No eyes but his."
Anna bowed. "Yes, my lady."
When the door closed again, Evelina leaned back. She pressed her hand against her eyes. The pressure steadied her.
She thought of the lake, the quiet water, the moment stolen from the world. She thought of his voice when he said her name, not as duty, not as court, but as if it belonged to him.
That memory glowed inside her. Stronger than any rumor. Stronger than the Gazette.
She would not allow the world to twist it. Not Montclair, not the court, not anyone. Her truth was her own. And she would guard it.