"So, my lady," Adrien said, calm but deliberate, taking a slow sip of his tea. He set the cup down and leaned slightly back. "We are about to be married, aren't we?"
Eveline looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes, her hands twisting lightly in her lap. She didn't fully understand why he had asked to speak privately, but she knew she had to answer carefully. "Yes, my lord," she said softly. Her voice was polite, but hesitant, unsure of what he wanted from her.
Adrien's sharp gaze lingered on her, studying her like she was a puzzle. "What do you think, my lady… about our marriage?"
Eveline tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing against the edge of her tea cup. "Well… I hope we are going to be kind to each other," she said carefully.
"Can I call you Eveline?" he asked abruptly, standing and moving toward the window. He threw it open, letting a rush of cool air sweep into the room.
"Yes, my lord," she replied, but she looked uncomfortable. Something in his manner—calm, cold, almost challenging—made her hesitate, and she lowered her eyes.
Adrien pulled a small, thin cigar from his pocket, lighting it with a snap of his lighter. A thin ribbon of smoke curled upward. "Eveline," he said again, his voice sharper this time, "do you truly think this… arrangement is fair?"
"Fair?" she repeated, glancing down at her tea cup. Her fingers traced its rim nervously. "The arrangement…?"
He exhaled, smoke drifting between them. "Yes. This arrangement. Forced upon us by our families. Do you think it is just? That I—" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "—that I should be bound to you when I want nothing of it?"
Eveline swallowed, her hands clasped tightly together. "I… I do not know, my lord," she said honestly, her voice quiet.
Adrien ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling again in the chair, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Eveline… I'm not trying to upset you, but you *understand* that this is being forced on me, don't you? With you is impossible " His voice was flat, almost cold.
"With me?" she said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. Something in the way he said it made her chest tighten slightly. She had known it was forced—but hearing him put it like that… it stung.
Adrien sighed, moving back to his chair, dragging the tip of his cigar along the ashtray. "Look, Eveline… I understand what this arrangement is about. But you have to realize—I don't want to marry you. I'm not… I'm not a decent man for this. Not the kind of man anyone should be expected to marry."
She looked at him, steady, calm, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "My lord… I… I know you do not wish for this marriage," she said politely, "and I understand. I do not pretend that you like me. But… if we marry....."
Adrien's jaw tightened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Eveline, I *am* trying to say - I do not want to marry you," he said bluntly, eyes narrowing.
"My lord, if you do not…" Eveline began, her voice quiet, measured, "you can break the engagement."
"Yes," he spat the word out, frustration clear in his tone. "That's the problem. Like I said before—my family is forcing me to marry you. Even if I refuse, even if I do not accept this… it does not matter. I have no choice."
Eveline's hands twitched slightly. "My lord… I do understand. But… what do you want me to do?" she asked but she already knew what he want from her.she e was making excuses to avoid his questions, but Adrien wouldn't let go
Adrien leaned back in his chair, letting the smoke curl lazily toward the ceiling. "You can break the engagement. " he said, his voice low, almost resigned.
Eveline's gaze fell to the floor, her fingers brushing against the rim of her teacup as if seeking grounding. She didn't answer immediately, the silence stretching.
"Listen," Adrien began softly, stepping closer, lowering his voice as if sharing something sacred. "I know this isn't easy. I know your life hasn't been easy — especially with your mother. I see that. I understand it. I know you think I'm your way out. But you are wrong"
He reached for her hand, holding it gently but firmly.
"There are men — powerful men, wealthy men. I could introduce you. I could make sure you're placed exactly where you belong."
His thumb brushed over her wrist, lingering just a second too long.
"You shouldn't tie yourself to someone like me when the world is willing to offer you more. I have the connections to make that happen for you. I can ensure you rise higher than you ever would standing beside me."
"You see? This is not rejection. It is protection."
He inclined his head slightly, as if granting her a kindness.
"Allow me to place you where you belong."
"My lord," Eveline's voice cut him off. Her pink eyes, usually lowered in polite restraint, burned as they met his. "I think we should end this conversation."
She rose at once and moved for the door.
Adrien reacted before thinking. He stood and caught her wrist.
"Eveline. Listen to me."
"I said let go," she snapped, tears gathering despite her effort to hold them back. "Please. Let go of my hand."
For a moment, he did not release her.
"You're being dramatic," he said evenly. "I am offering you an advantage most women would beg for."
Her breath hitched.
"I can help you," he continued, lowering his voice as though reason alone should calm her. "I have influence. I have authority. If you would simply stop reacting and start thinking—"
"Thinking?" she choked out. "Is that what you call this?"
Something in his expression cooled further.
"Please don't think I'm stupid. "
He let her go at last — not out of guilt, but irritation.
"My lady—" he started, softer now, but she was already walking down the hall, her shoulders trembling.
The door closed.
Adrien stood still for a long moment, jaw tight, staring at the empty doorway.