SELINA
The ballroom lights glowed against crystal chandeliers. Music floated through polished air. Selina stood at the head of the steps, her gown sweeping as she welcomed her guests.
"Thank you for coming," she said, her voice firm yet warm. "Your presence honors my family tonight."
Each noble bowed or curtsied in turn. Selina's smile never wavered. She offered kind words to the older duchesses, compliments to the young debutantes, and measured nods to the gentlemen who sought her attention. Every move was deliberate. This was her night, and she ruled it.
After the greetings faded, Selina moved through the room, her hand grazing the back of a velvet chair as her eyes swept across the dance floor.
There.
Evelina.
Her powder-blue gown caught the light, her hair pinned in modest elegance. But it was not her appearance that pulled Selina's gaze. It was the men.
The first to claim her was Grand Montclair. Tall, severe, his hand set firmly at Evelina's waist. The crowd watched, whispers forming as the Grand Duke twirled her. Selina's jaw tightened.
Next came Baron Whitcombe. He bowed with practiced grace, his hand extended. Evelina accepted. Their dance was short. He passed her like a trinket, as if Evelina were his to display.
But then, Lucian Ravenscroft.
Selina froze.
His hand found Evelina's with quiet authority. Their steps matched without effort. Their eyes lingered. A smile curved her lips, small and soft, one Selina had never seen her give to anyone else. And his smile answered it. Calm. Confident. As though they had spoken without words.
Heat burned through Selina's chest. She forced her own expression still, but inside, fury rose. Evelina was stealing the attention she had built for months. And worse, she was doing it with Lucian.
Selina's gaze followed them until Evelina broke away from the floor. She excused herself toward the resting alcove. Her movements were graceful, but Selina knew better. She was retreating.
Selina moved. Two noble ladies trailed her, loyal shadows. Together, they followed Evelina.
The resting area was lit by soft lanterns, tucked behind heavy curtains. A quieter space where guests might breathe. When Evelina entered the resting room, her hand pressing against her gown as though steadying herself.
Selina walked with measured steps. Her smile was sweet, sharp at the edges. "My dear, you looked… enchanting out there."
Evelina rose politely, offering a small nod. "You are kind, Lady Marlowe."
Selina's eyes flicked to the men nearby. Three younger lords, already restless with drink and eager to impress. She beckoned them with a glance. They approached without hesitation.
"Perhaps," Selina said lightly, "our Lady Everleigh might honor each of you with a turn. It would be rude to deny gentlemen such eager requests."
The first man bowed, taking Evelina's hand before she could object. He led her into a brief spin, his laughter too loud, his hand lingering. Evelina's smile was thin.
The second cut in quickly, pulling her close. His steps were careless, his grip firm. Evelina's body tensed. She looked for an exit, but Selina blocked the way with her companions.
The third joined, pressing into the rhythm with no concern for her comfort. Together, the three circled her. Evelina moved stiffly, her attempts to free herself ignored.
Selina's smile deepened. "You are radiant, Evelina. Truly the jewel of the night." Her voice dripped false praise, each word meant to sting.
Evelina's eyes flickered, a flash of steel beneath her calm. She tried to step back, but the men closed in again. One caught her wrist lightly, another brushed too close at her shoulder.
"Enough," Evelina said softly, her tone firm, but they only laughed.
Selina folded her hands, watching. Inside, satisfaction burned. Evelina's composure was cracking. The room would remember this.
Yet a part of Selina's chest tightened when Evelina's eyes darted toward the curtains. Searching. As if waiting for someone to appear.
Selina turned her gaze back toward the ballroom. If Lucian stepped through, if he pulled Evelina away, the night would shatter. Selina forced her smile brighter. She would not allow it.
Not tonight.
***
ALISTAIR
From his place along the terrace doors, Alistair watched.
The dance floor glittered with gowns and polished boots. Couples turned, laughter rose, but his eyes tracked only two figures. Evelina and Lucian.
Lucian's hand rested at her waist. Evelina's smile tilted upward, rare, and genuine. Their movements blended, smooth as water. And then their eyes. That was what struck Alistair. The way they looked at one another. As if nothing else in the room existed.
Alistair's jaw clenched. He had seen Lucian command a room, outwit rivals, stare down councilmen. He had never seen him soften. Not until Evelina.
The music ended. Lucian bowed, Evelina curtsied. Their smiles lingered.
Alistair stepped forward. His eyes followed Lucian as he excused himself toward the terrace, perhaps to breathe, perhaps to think. Alistair followed.
The night air outside was cooler, sharper. Lucian stood at the stone railing, his back straight, gaze on the gardens below.
Alistair spoke first. "You are bold, Lord Ravenscroft."
Lucian turned slightly. His face was calm, unreadable. "Bold?"
"You know what I mean. The eyes in that room are not blind."
Lucian's mouth curved, faint but deliberate. "Let them see."
Alistair moved closer, his steps slow. "You risk too much. The court whispers already. I am watching. Do not think I will ignore you."
Lucian's eyes darkened. "I do not measure my steps against you."
Alistair folded his arms. "You should. I have power. Influence. I will not tolerate sharing the stage with a woman I believes is mine."
Lucian's jaw tightened. His voice was low, steady. "Evee is no prize. She is not Montclair's to claim. Nor anyone's."
The name struck Alistair. Evee. Not Lady Everleigh. Not Evelina. Personal. Intimate.
Alistair narrowed his eyes. "Careful. Affection has cost men more than crowns."
Lucian met his stare without flinching. "And calculation has cost men their souls."
The silence stretched. The night pressed in around them. Alistair's breath clouded in the air.
"You will draw her into fire," Alistair said quietly.
"She walks there already," Lucian answered. "Better beside me than alone."
Alistair studied him, searching for weakness. He found none. Only conviction. The kind that unsettled him, because he knew it could not be bent.
At last, Alistair stepped back. "Then do not falter. If you fail, you drag us all with you."
Lucian inclined his head, his eyes still fixed. "I do not fail when it matters."
The music from the ballroom swelled again, muffled through the doors. Both men stood in silence for a long moment.
Alistair turned away first, his thoughts heavy. Inside, the dance continued, but the balance of the night had shifted.
And he knew, whatever path Evelina chose, it would set the course of more than her own fate.