The Earl Who Married the Wrong Sister (Preview)

Chapter One

Miss Clara Westwood had learned to recognize the exact moment a man realized he was dancing with the wrong sister. With Edmund Barrington, the Earl of Hawke, it would take precisely four bars of the waltz.

“May I have this dance, Miss Clara?” Edmund asked.

For a moment, her heart fluttered, but she did not let it show. She knew the masks that people of her standing wore, practiced smiles, and said pleasant words. He wore his mask well, at least.

“Of course, thank you.” She smiled, taking his hand as he led her toward the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around her and held her hand as the waltz began.

“You are an excellent dancer,” he said as he twirled her around the dance floor. A practiced step, not a movement of passion.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Although I’m sure you think I am nothing compared to my sister.”

“Do not dismiss yourself so,” he chided softly.

“How can I not? It’s clear she’s caught your eye,” Clara said.

Edmund’s eyes softened, and he nodded. The blush on his cheeks accentuated his bright, honey-colored eyes.

“I was hoping that I was being at least somewhat subtle…” he admitted, his eyes already tracing the room for the other of the Westwood sisters.

“Subtlety is somewhat of an art form,” she joked. “One I am not sure you have mastered.”

“Oh, you wound me!” He gasped, but he was still smiling.

“Only out of kindness,” Clara replied, not allowing her mask to slip. “We are soon to be related through your marriage to her.”

“That is true,” he agreed. “And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Have you found anyone who’s caught your eye?”

Clara hesitated. She looked up into his soft eyes and let out a gentle sigh.

“Sadly, no,” she replied falsely.

“That surprises me,” he said.

“In what way?” she asked.

“You are more than pretty enough for any suitor, you’re clearly skilled at dancing, and you are perfectly polite,” he said.

“You do me too much of a kindness,” she said, shaking her head. “And besides, I should be rather disappointed if my future husband should only choose me for my looks.”

“Really?” he asked. “I would have imagined it would be much easier for a young lady to rely on her looks and charm.”

“I never said I wanted something easy.” She sighed.

“Really?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Indeed. If I’m honest, I find the constant pretenses given by the ton to be…” She considered her words. “Exhausting.”

“Pretenses?” he asked, his polite mask slipping slightly.

“We smile, we dance, we make polite conversation. I’m looking for something more,” she said as he moved her around the dance floor.

“What more is there?” He laughed, his eyes hardening.

“Genuine conversation? Interest in the depths of one’s soul? An authentic connection not based on vanity?” she asked as he pulled her up again.

His smile warmed, but didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well…” he began, his voice taking on a tone she recognized from her father’s lectures, “when one has limited social experience, it’s hard to understand the need for maintaining appearances and the social order,” he said, as if he were explaining something simple to a child.

She felt herself bristle.

“Such philosophical musings are…” He hesitated. “Impractical for someone in your position. You will understand when you mature.”

Clara’s hands tightened in her hold on him. She was twenty-three, not a babe in arms.

His eyes locked onto something and softened. She followed his eye line.

Evangeline.

“That is not…” She trailed off.

Clearly, his mind was already far from the conversation. Clara sighed and brought her eyes down from his face. As handsome as he was, it was hard to understand him when he would not focus on her or their conversation.

He was infuriating, often condescending to Clara, and betrothed to her sister.

But that didn’t stop her fickle heart from fluttering.

Soon, the dance came to an end. They bowed to each other, and Edmund walked away. Clara waited for a moment, but no one approached her. Perhaps Edmund had only danced with her as a kindness.

She could have thrown a fit or made a scene. Clara knew it wouldn’t be tolerated from the daughter of a baron.

Instead, she took a breath, pulling herself to stand tall, and walked to the side of the room.

Her sister had already pulled Edmund into her arms as they began to dance. His movements had taken on a fluid and graceful quality.

A cold nausea bubbled in Clara’s chest. This was not a new sensation for her.

Clara had been born with simple features and preferred muted colors. She had brown hair and brown eyes that she had once heard a lady describe as “muddy”.

Evangeline had all the best Westwood features. She was perfectly proportioned, like she had been chiseled from marble by a master craftsman. Her hair was like finely spun gold that shimmered when she danced. Most of all, her blue eyes could draw in any man she wanted. Tonight, she wanted Edmund.

Edmund’s warm eyes were focused on Evangeline, completely having forgotten about Clara.

Evangeline’s face had broken into a radiant smile.

For a moment, they seemed to exist outside of the ton’s carefully orchestrated performance. Maybe what they had was genuine. It was always hard to tell.

Clara exhaled and leaned against the wall as the ball continued. The candle-lit chandeliers cast ethereal glows around the room, making each lord and lady glow as they danced or spoke. The May air kept them all comfortable, even with so many people here. Mamas sat at the side of the room, orchestrating who they should like their daughters to talk to. The lords discussed business, making alliances, and combining forces.

This didn’t feel like a human connection.

This was chess with theatrics.

Soon, partners broke apart, and the ladies moved on to dance with whoever was next on the list to dance with them. Clara quietly nursed her drink from the side. She watched the light leave Edmund’s eyes as he had to step away from Evangeline.

Was it rude to wish someone would long for her like that?

Another Waltz began, and Clara watched the bodies swaying gently. Edmund kept glancing over to where Evangeline was now with a new partner.

Clara saw as Evangeline looked over at Edmund. She caught just the corner of Evangeline’s lips twitching up before she stumbled. Edmund dropped his partner’s hand mid-step.

“Are you quite all right?” he asked anxiously, already at Evangeline’s side.

“I am,” Evangeline said meekly. “Now you’re here.”

Clara pursed her lips and sipped her drink. She had seen Evangeline do this before. It had proven to be an effective way to get a man’s attention. Edmund had fallen for it. What decent man wouldn’t? Let alone a decent man who had been enchanted by Evangeline’s beauty and helpless charm.

“Here, let me help you,” Edmund said, helping Evangeline to a chair across the ballroom. He helped her to take a seat.

Evangeline looked up at him with a soft, almost apologetic smile.

“Edmund, you do too much for me,” she said softly.

“And yet I don’t feel like I do nearly enough,” he replied.

“You are too good to me.” Evangeline smiled. Her eyes drifted from Edmund’s as he fussed over her, meeting Clara’s.

For just a moment, her mask slipped as she grinned. Her smile was sharp. She had been victorious.

And then she was back to being a damsel for him.

***

“What a wonderful night.” Evangeline smiled as Edmund helped her into the carriage.

“Are you certain you and Miss Clara will be all right getting home? Your ankle…” Edmund said anxiously.

“I am sure we will be just fine,” Clara said, watching the two of them.

“Oh, do be nice, Clara,” Evangeline pouted.

“I am not offended by your sister,” Edmund assured her.

Clara glared into his back, softening her face when he turned to walk past her. Evangeline giggled. Clara rolled her eyes and stepped into the carriage.

The driver pulled away, and Evangeline relaxed in her seat.

“I do have good taste,” she giggled as she fanned herself. “I mean, did you see how gracefully he moves and how doting he is?”

“I had noticed,” Clara said, looking out the window.

“And he is so sweet. I mean, even when he proposed, he could hardly keep his words together! He seemed so worried I would reject him. Truly, I couldn’t have asked for a more charming and decent man. And that he is an earl and manages the Hawke estate? I could not be more smitten,” Evangeline fawned.

“Would you be so interested in him if he were, say, a baron?” Clara asked.

Evangeline tensed, fluttering her fan harder.

“Perhaps not quite as interested. Although it is hard not to enjoy having a man be so deeply fascinated by you,” Evangeline said.

Clara nodded.

“Oh, I am so glad he is an earl. A charming one, too. Isn’t he ever so charming, Clara?” Evangeline asked, smiling again.

Clara nodded, although her mind wandered back to his warm eyes and his condescending words. A duality that pushed her away as it pulled her in.

“As charming as any other decent man of the ton,” Clara said carefully.

“No, I would say he’s more so. Much more so!” Evangeline protested. “Are you still sulking about your dance with him?”

“That is not—”

“Oh, come now,” Evangeline said, waving her fan dismissively. “You cannot expect a man like Edmund to waste an entire dance on your musings. Especially when he has more…Engaging partners available.”

Clara’s throat tightened.

“Am I wrong for wanting a decent conversation instead of meaningless prattle?” Clara quietly protested.

“Really, Clara, you cannot expect men to humor your philosophical nonsense when they could be dancing with someone who understands how society works,” Evangeline replied. “And besides, men prefer a partner who is not so…Plain.”

Clara’s hands gripped her dress skirts. Evangeline noticed and raised an eyebrow.

“Did you have your eye on him?” she asked, her blue eyes sharp.

Clara felt her heart stab with nerves, and her ears burned, but she turned her gaze away from her sister.

“I—no, of course not,” Clara replied quickly.

There was a moment of silence, and Clara suspected that Evangeline had noticed her admiration for the fickle man.

“Good, because it would be terribly awkward if you had.” Evangeline smiled, although it did not meet her eyes.

Clara’s shoulders relaxed as she wasn’t discovered.

“You know, Papa expects me to make a brilliant match. Honestly, you should be thanking me. When I secure my marriage to Lord Barrington, you can marry whoever you want. Nobody will expect anything of you.”

Clara felt her chest burn with indignation. She took a soft breath.

“Evangeline, I think you are truly smitten with him,” Clara said. “You both make a good match.”

“But?” Evangeline raised an eyebrow.

“I did not say—”

“I know you well enough, Clara. My little sister has such large opinions.” Evangeline sighed.

Clara nodded and sank into her seat a little.

“He just does not strike me as one concerned with a person’s deeper character,” Clara mumbled.

“What does that even mean?” Evangeline asked.

“I mean, he would adore having you as a wife, for you are as beautiful and concerned with status as he is,” Clara replied.

Evangeline frowned and fanned herself harder.

“I do not think you have yet learned how to appreciate a good man when he approaches you.” Evangeline huffed.

Clara nodded meekly and looked out the window again. She glanced over at Evangeline, who was still frowning. Small tears had formed at the edge of Evangeline’s eyes. Guilt suddenly washed over Clara.

“I did not mean—”

“Oh, stop.” Evangeline laughed, her tears dried as quickly as they had appeared. “You know I can cry on command. Did you really think you’d hurt my feelings?”

“That was cruel,” Clara said.

“You know I cannot help myself,” Evangeline replied with a grin.

Clara shook her head.

“I do hope you are at least kinder to your betrothed,” Clara said.

“I treat him well enough for him to want to marry me.” Evangeline giggled.

“That is hardly a high bar,” Clara said with a chuckle. “I would not think well of you if you were not good to him.”

Evangeline seemed to hesitate at her words, and she leaned back into her seat. The carriage rumbled on for another moment.

“Is that even if you do not like him?” Evangeline asked.

“Does it matter what I think of him?” Clara asked.

“I suppose it does not matter in the end. Clara.” Evangeline sighed. “I do not care what you think of me, or frankly, of Edmund. I care that he’s an earl with a fortune and an estate.”

Clara nodded. She was well aware of her sister’s character.

“And do you love him?” Clara asked.

“Of course,” Evangeline said.

“I mean romantically,” Clara said.

“Am I not allowed to be friends with my husband?” Evangeline asked.

“You enjoy taking my words out of context.” Clara laughed.

“Oh, you rude little sister!” Evangeline giggled in response, tapping Clara’s knee with the handle of her fan.

“Poor Edmund does not know the woman he is betrothed to.” Clara sighed.

“Perhaps not. Perhaps he does not need to,” Evangeline replied. She went quiet again and looked out the carriage window.

Clara watched, not used to her sister being so…thoughtful.

“He would if he were more concerned with character, I suppose.” Clara laughed, trying to lighten the moment.

“Well then, let me be glad that character was not on his mind when he fell for me,” Evangeline said, rolling her eyes.

Clara nodded and turned back to the window.

“You will be happy for me, won’t you, Clara?” Evangeline asked.

“What?” Clara said, blinking in surprise.

“At the wedding, I mean. You’ll smile happily for me?” Evangeline asked.

Her gaze held a determination that Clara hadn’t seen in her sister before. Clara felt herself hesitate. This did not feel like a simple request or one that she should respond to glibly.

“Of course,” Clara said, reaching over to take Evangeline’s hand in hers. “Whyever would I not be?”

“Good,” Evangeline said, her expression softening. “I did not want to see you sad that I will be leaving Westwood House.”

“Oh, truly, I think Westwood House will be a much more peaceful place when you go.” Clara smirked.

“You little—” Evangeline went to tap Clara with her fan again, only for Clara to dodge her this time, laughing.

“Only because I have a sister who can cry on command,” Clara teased.

“Excuse me, I should not be punished for my talents!” Evangeline said in mock offense. “Besides, if you don’t miss me enough or you look upset at my wedding, you know what people would say. Poor, jealous Clara, bitter that her sister found her happiness first.”

Clara rolled her eyes.

“The ton will always make anything into a scandal,” Clara said.

“Indeed, although I do not think that you help yourself.” Evangeline sighed.

“Whatever do you mean?” Clara asked.

“I mean, if you cannot even appreciate a man like Lord Barrington, or cannot repress your philosophical musings, I suspect you may never find a good match.” Evangeline sighed.

Clara bit her cheek and went back to looking out the window.

“I do not see a world where either of those conditions can be met,” Clara said.

Evangeline rolled her eyes.

“It would help your chances of finding someone to marry you if they did not think so poorly of you, or you were more…agreeable,” Evangeline said, her voice saccharine and cloying.

“We shall see,” Clara murmured.

Evangeline nodded, and the pair looked out the window.

Clara looked over at Evangeline. Her sister was stunning, well-mannered, and had good social standing. Clara was just…there.

This was her place. She was the spare daughter, the plain one, the one who would watch while Evangeline took whatever she wanted from life.

And she would continue to do her duty. She would smile at the wedding. Be the supportive sister. Because that is what was expected of Clara Westwood.

***

They soon returned to Westwood House. Evangeline stepped out of the carriage with the assistance of a footman and walked toward the door. Clara watched her sister as she glided effortlessly across the pathway.

“Your ankle is feeling better, then?” Clara asked.

“Oh, hush.” Evangeline pouted.

Clara watched Evangeline walk into the manor. She followed after her.

Would life always make Clara secondary to her sister?

Chapter Two

“You really are smitten with her.” Thomas laughed as he clapped Edmund on the back. The garden party celebrating Edmund’s engagement was well underway, with the Hawke gardens filled with conversation and laughter. The sun was high in the sky, shining its warmth down onto the event. The smell of dahlias, hydrangeas, and roses filled the air. Although the gardens were crowded, Edmund and Thomas had still found space to hide away and speak in hushed tones.

“You can hardly blame a man for being so smitten over a woman like Miss Westwood.” Edmund sighed happily.

“I cannot,” Thomas admitted. “But there is being smitten, and then there is what happens to you when you see your betrothed.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Edmund smirked.

“My dear friend, you go from a competent man to a love-struck fool. I have never seen you lost for words until you met Miss Westwood.” Thomas laughed.

“Will you not let me have this one peace in life!” Edmund replied with a laugh of his own. “And besides, I really do believe this is true love.”

“And whatever could give you that idea?” Thomas asked with a grin.

Edmund looked around the garden party, making sure that nobody was listening to them. “I have entrusted her with my secret,” he murmured.

Thomas’s eyes widened in shock. “And how did she take it?” he asked quietly.

“Well,” Edmund said with a smile. “Very well. I was so relieved that she could accept the truth about my background without so much as a blink.”

“What a lucky man you are.” Thomas beamed.

“I do believe you are right.” Edmund laughed.

“Lord Barrington!” Evangeline’s voice called out.

Edmund’s heart thudded in his chest.

He turned to face her. She, as always, looked beautiful. Her hair was pinned elegantly, the golden strands twisting and framing her face. She was in a pale peach gown, making her stand out from the shades of green of the garden. Her cheeks were naturally flushed, and she held herself elegantly.

In truth, he almost missed Clara, who was standing behind her in her dull lavender dress.

The younger Westwood sister was still something of an enigma to him. As much as he adored his Evangeline, Clara’s subtlety was refreshing. If only she were a little…more. More confident, more with the fashions, more socially adept. If she were, he would have had a harder time choosing his betrothed.

“Miss Westwood,” Edmund said, taking her gloved hand and kissing the back of it. “It is wonderful to see you again. My heart aches each moment we are apart.”

“As does mine,” Evangeline said warmly.

Edmund beamed at her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. Sadly, he knew that would be quite improper. It did not lessen the desire.

He turned to Clara, who was standing meekly behind her sister.

“And it is a pleasure to have you here, too, Miss Clara Westwood,” he said warmly.

“It is a pleasure to be here, Lord Barrington.” Clara nodded, looking down slightly.

Her ears went slightly red, a phenomenon he had noticed happens when he is in her presence. For what reason, he could not be sure. He found himself studying the color of her cheeks.

Blush pink…It suited her. Much more than those muted tones at least.

“What a wondrous sight! Both the beautiful Westwood sisters have graced us with their presence.” Thomas laughed.

“This is my dear friend, Mr. Sinclair,” Edmund said, inviting Thomas to stand closer to the group.

“It is wonderful to meet you,” Clara said with a soft smile.

“I dare say we shall see more of each other after the wedding.” Evangeline giggled.

“I hear that preparations are going well?” Thomas asked.

“Very well.”  Evangeline nodded. “Of course, my dress is prepared and ready.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Edmund smiled.

“The priest has been informed, and if I understood Papa correctly, he will want to meet with you both soon,” Clara said.

“That’s good,” Thomas agreed. “At least he has not seen the names of who he is to marry and run screaming for the hills!”

“That would be quite a problem,” Clara said with a slight chuckle.

“I doubt he could say no to a lady such as myself entering the Barrington family,” Evangeline said.

Thomas raised an eyebrow and glanced at Edmund.

“I’m sure he has no problem with our union,” Edmund assured her.

“Let us hope the weather continues to be so wonderful,” Clara said.

“Indeed. I would not hope for rain on our wedding day.” Edmund sighed.

“I am sure that won’t be the case. It will be the height of summer,” Thomas said with a nod.

“The heavens wouldn’t let such a day be ruined by rain,” Evangeline smiled.

Edmund caught Thomas glancing at Clara, who met his eye and then turned back to her sister. Thomas turned his gaze back to Edmund, who dipped his head in acknowledgment. Evangeline had always been somewhat theatrical when talking of her love for him.

“Well, whatever the case may be, I am sure you both will have the day you deserve.” Clara smiled.

“Oh, I’m sure we will have a most wonderful day then.” Evangeline giggled.

“Has the guest list been decided?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” Evangeline replied. “Invitations will be sent out shortly.”

“I will personally make sure you receive yours,” Edmund said to his friend.

“Will there be other people I know there?” Thomas asked.

“I believe Lord and Lady Fairfax are acquaintances of yours?” Edmund asked.

“Oh, I’m very friendly with the Fairfax family.” Thomas smiled.

“How do you know them?” Evangeline asked.

“I met Lord Fairfax at a ball some years ago. I actually introduced him to Lord Barrington,” Thomas explained.

“Ah! How could I forget!” Edmund laughed.

“You forget many things these days,” Thomas said, clapping him on the back.

“Have you been to their estate? I visited earlier this month for a ball, and I must say I didn’t expect the grounds to be so large!” Evangeline giggled.

“Indeed, although I suppose one should not expect anything less of a cousin of a duke,” Thomas said.

“A cousin of a duke?” Evangeline repeated. “Then I think I will have to make very good friends with Lady Fairfax.”

Edmund chuckled at her joke. At least, he hoped it was a joke. Clara was not laughing.

“I dare say Lady Fairfax would be delighted to have such a charming friend,” Edmund said warmly.

Clara had become quiet during their conversation. Perhaps, he thought, she felt out of her depth discussing these topics among elevated social circles.

“Lady Fairfax is quite involved in charitable work,” Thomas said thoughtfully.

“Really?” Evangeline asked.

“Indeed,” Thomas said. “She’s been working with the orphanages in the East End of late. She has such a heart for children.”

“That she does,” Edmund nodded, his chest swelling with pride. “The Hawke estate was recently able to assist her with a fundraiser. I believe she raised a considerable amount for the orphanages.”

“Oh, that is so wonderful to hear!” Evangeline beamed, leaning into Edmund.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Edmund smiled. “Perhaps my betrothed would like to assist in these ventures in the future?”

“I would love that,” Evangeline cooed.

“How much was raised?” Clara asked.

Edmund hesitated. He did not want Clara to go on one of her philosophical tirades and spoil the afternoon.

“A little over five hundred pounds,” he replied.

Evangeline gasped.

“Oh, that is an amazing amount!” she cried.

“It is a…significant sum,” Clara agreed.

Edmund frowned. He couldn’t quite read Clara’s response.

“It is,” Edmund confirmed. “I am sure it will help keep the orphanage open for some time.”

“If they can find people to help run it,” Clara replied.

“Whatever do you mean?” Thomas asked.

“Well, orphanages need a lot of work. These are often young children who have been through such hardships. They need adults around them who can step in and help them grow into polite and well-mannered adults. Otherwise, they are likely to repeat the cycles that brought them there,” Clara said. “And that’s not including work on the building maintenance, fundraising, arranging adoptions, or transfers to other facilities, and so on.”

He frowned. While she was frustrating, she wasn’t without point. Clara Westwood wasn’t one to prattle, after all. There was a skill in responding and listening like that, in knowing when to speak and when to listen, that not many people in Edmund’s social circles had learned. He could use more people like her.

If only she weren’t so challenging to socialize with.

He found himself wondering what other depths lay beneath her reserved exterior.

“That is true,” Thomas agreed.

“I am sure Lady Fairfax and her associates are well aware of how to run the organizations they are providing for,” Edmund said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But I am sure they would also appreciate more help from the people who support their cause than just the occasional influx of money,” Clara said.

Edmund tensed, and Evangeline seemed to notice, putting a soothing hand on his arm. He took a slow breath.

“But without that money, the children would be without food and clothing,” Edmund argued.

“I am not doubting that,” Clara said. “But I think there has been an attitude that if an institution is given money, then there is nothing else to do. I think it is well worth society being more practical in its approach. For example, would it hurt for lords with experience in property management to go and assist these institutions so they can make better decisions?”

Edmund gritted his teeth. He was a property manager and an earl. Clara likely knew that.

“Well, there is often not time for a lord to give to such an institution,” Edmund rebutted.

“So a lord has time for balls at the height of the Season and not to give time to the causes he cares about?” Clara asked.

“If a lord does not keep up his social relations, then his business will suffer, and he will not be able to give the money that these institutions need,” he replied.

“I would think rather more highly of a man who was willing to help those who were born less fortunate than him,” she said.

“That is easy for one to say when they have not had the experience in organizing such endeavors that require practical consideration and social cooperation,” he said. “Miss Clara Westwood, it is a virtue to understand where the limit of one’s knowledge is.”

Clara’s eyes widened, and Edmund caught sight of her hands, gripping her skirt.

Something in his chest ached. He hadn’t meant to offend her, but she had offended him first.

“I know the limits of my knowledge quite well, Lord Barrington,” she replied.

“Perhaps you are mistaken,” Edmund said.

“Perhaps those in positions of privilege are too comfortable to have recognized when their offerings are falling short of meaningful change,” she countered. “True and meaningful compassion requires more than simply attending elegant or fashionable events with our friends.”

“Those events need a lot of time and social maneuvering to make work, otherwise they fail,” Edmund replied.

“Would that time not be better spent helping the orphanage itself?” she asked.

“It goes toward raising funds,” Edmund said.

“Maybe we should consider ending this conversation…” Thomas suggested.

“I would not expect one who has such a lack of social understanding or experience to understand that, on occasion, people can mistake criticism for wisdom,” Edmund said to Clara.

“And I would not expect one so comfortable to realize when one’s help’ is merely a performance for one’s peers,” Clara responded.

“Clara!” Evangeline gasped.

Clara met her sister’s eyes and froze.

Edmund felt as if he had been slapped. Performance? He gave generously, more so than many men of his station. And yet, this girl. This child, who did nothing but stand on the sidelines and criticize others, dared to—

“I…” Clara stuttered, her face pale. “I believe I need some air…”

Clara turned on her heel before anyone could respond and walked away into the gardens, her form retreating behind the large hedges.

Thomas glanced up at Edmund, then looked over to Evangeline.

“Well,” Thomas said after a long, uncomfortable pause. “That    was…something.”

“She’s always been…” Evangeline started. “Passionate.”

“That is one word for it.” Edmund sighed.

“Please forgive my sister,” Evangeline said. “You can see she does not understand how all things in society work.”

Edmund nodded, but his hands had clenched into fists.

He would never understand how someone so judgmental, self-righteous, and entirely too comfortable speaking back to those above her was related to his dear Evangeline.

“I’ll talk to her before the wedding,” Evangeline said softly. “Make sure she knows her place.”

Edmund nodded, feeling his body relax.

He glanced over to where Clara had run off to. As much as he chided himself for it, his thoughts turned to that precocious woman. Not to her words, though, but to the blush that crept up her neck and ears when she looked at him. Even when he had been dancing with her, it had been a feature he had enjoyed seeing on her.

He shook his head and turned back to Evangeline, squeezing her hand.

She was his betrothed.

His eyes had never wandered before. Why did they now?

What was happening to him?