Chapter 36
Evelyn's POV
Dinner proceeded in fits and starts. Conversation flowed around safe topics—Isabella's charity work, Henry's golf trip, Elizabeth's holiday plans. But underneath, unspoken tensions coiled like snakes.
Isabella tried to draw me in, asking about Russia and my plans now that I was back. I answered with careful vagueness, giving just enough to seem forthcoming while revealing nothing.
Catherine's expression soured with each non-answer I gave. She shifted in her seat, her lips pressing into a thin line of disapproval. Clearly, she thought I was being deliberately difficult, snubbing Isabella's friendly overtures.
Every few minutes, Julian would interject. Each time, he found a way to suggest intimacy between us.
When Isabella mentioned a charity gala, Julian said, "Oh, you should invite Evelyn. We could go together. I'd love to see her in a ballgown." He winked at me. "Though she looks stunning in anything. Or nothing, I imagine."
Elizabeth nearly choked on her wine.
Adrian's silence grew more oppressive with each comment. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. He barely touched his food, barely looked at Isabella when she tried to engage him in conversation.
He just stared at Julian with barely contained rage.
And Julian, the bastard, seemed to be enjoying every second of it.
Finally, when Julian made another comment about "getting to know Evelyn better," Adrian snapped.
"Enough." His voice was quiet but deadly. "Julian, a word. In private."
"Of course." Julian stood smoothly, completely unruffled. "Excuse us, ladies and gentlemen. Won't be long."
They left the room together, and I could only imagine what Adrian was saying to him. What threats he was making. What lines he was drawing.
But I knew it wouldn't matter. Julian didn't respect boundaries. He didn't care about threats.
He did whatever he wanted, consequences be damned.
---
When dinner finally ended and we moved to the lounge for coffee, I excused myself to the restroom. I needed a moment away from the suffocating atmosphere. Away from Julian's constant needling and Adrian's silent fury and Isabella's increasingly strained smile.
I gripped the marble counter, staring at my reflection. At the woman in the black Row dress, with her careful makeup and artfully arranged hair and expression that gave nothing away.
When had I become this hollow shell?
The door opened. Isabella came to stand beside me. In the mirror, our reflections side by side, both in black, both playing roles we hadn't chosen.
"I wanted to talk to you," she said. Her voice lost its earlier sweetness, taking on a more direct quality. "Alone."
I turned to face her, leaning back and crossing my arms. "All right. Talk."
She studied me for a long moment. Then: "Are you still in love with Adrian?"
The bluntness caught me off guard.
"Does it matter?" I asked finally.
"Yes." No hesitation. "It matters to me. Because I'm not going to compete with a ghost, Evelyn. If you're going to be a problem, I need to know now, before this goes any further."
I should have been offended. But instead I felt a strange kinship with her. We were both playing a game we hadn't chosen.
"I'm not a ghost," I said. "I'm very much alive. And I'm not going anywhere."
"That's not an answer." Her eyes were sharp, searching. "Do you love him?"
I thought about lying. But I'd promised Julian I'd stop pretending. And I didn't have the energy anymore.
"Ladies." Julian's voice cut through the moment like a blade.
We both turned. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that ever-present smile on his face.
"Julian," Isabella said, surprise and irritation mixing in her tone. "This is a private conversation."
"Is it?" He pushed off the frame and strolled into the bathroom like he owned it. "Because from where I was standing, it sounded like you were about to spend the next twenty minutes convincing each other that Adrian loves Evelyn and always will." He looked between us. "Am I wrong?"
Isabella's cheeks flushed. "That's not—"
"It is, though." Julian's smile turned sharp. "And here's a free piece of advice, cousin. Stop talking about it. Don't you know about the mere exposure effect? The more you two discuss Adrian and Evelyn's great tragic love, the more you're reinforcing it. Keep this up, and Evelyn might actually fall in love with him. Then we'll both be crying."
Isabella blinked. "We'll both be...?"
Julian's smile widened. "I'm Evelyn's admirer. You're Adrian's future fiancée. Aren't we both invested in keeping them apart?"
I stared at him, speechless. He'd just claimed me in front of Isabella. Made his intentions crystal clear.
The bathroom felt too small suddenly. Too hot. I couldn't breathe.
"This is insane," I managed.
"Is it?" Julian tilted his head. "You're the one who called me yesterday. You're the one wearing the dress I sent. You're the one who keeps looking at me across the dinner table like you can't decide whether to kill me or kiss me." His smile turned wolfish. "I'm just being honest about what we both know is happening."
"Nothing is happening," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
"Not yet," he agreed. "But it will. Because Adrian's going to marry Isabella—" he nodded to his cousin "—and you're going to realize that pining after your stepson is a waste of time. And when you do, I'll be right there. Waiting."
"I—" I started, but Isabella cut me off.
"Okay." She straightened her shoulders, decision made. "Okay, fine. Julian, you... do whatever it is you're doing. Just keep her away from Adrian long enough for me to make this engagement real." She looked at me, and there was something almost apologetic in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know this is manipulative. But I really do care about him, and I think I could make him happy. If given the chance."
"You don't need my permission," I said hoarsely.
"No," she agreed. "But I wanted you to know I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm doing this because I want a life with him. And you—" she glanced at Julian "—apparently have other options."
Julian's smile was triumphant. "There. See? Everyone's happy."
"I'm not happy," I said.
"Not yet," he said again. "But you will be." He pushed off from the wall, heading for the door. "Now come on. We've been gone too long. Elizabeth's probably planning my murder as we speak."
He left. Isabella hesitated, then followed.
I stood alone in the bathroom, my hands gripping the counter hard enough to hurt.
What the hell had just happened?
When I returned to the hall, Julian was waiting. Leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"That went well," he said.
"You're insane," I told him.
"Maybe." He pushed off the wall. "But you're still here. Still wearing my dress. Still letting me play this game." He stepped closer. "Want to know why?"
"No."
"Because part of you likes it."