Chapter 28
The man was a portrait of perfection—not a single hair was out of place. From his impeccably tailored tailcoat to the aura of dignity that clung to him like a fine cologne, he exuded a refined, courteous grace in every word.
“After that business with my father, I dedicated myself to carving out my own path. I’ve recently established a small publishing house,” he explained.
He presented a business card to Jacqueline. She took it, offering the sort of practiced, polite smile she had mastered for such social occasions.
“A publishing house? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“I had actually intended to reach out once I heard you were staying at Preston Manor, Miss Somerset. Finding you here today… perhaps it truly is a stroke of fate.”
Jacqueline’s smile turned slightly brittle. The memory of the Earl of Knox’s stony, disapproving face flashed through her mind; he was the last person who would consider this reunion a blessing.
In this circle, no one was deluded enough to think marriage was born of romance. It was a cold alliance of houses, a transaction designed to consolidate wealth and influence. To the Earl, Jacqueline was merely a “penniless girl” of no consequence. Her gaze grew heavy as she looked at Evan.
“Miss Somerset, won’t you introduce me to your companion?”
Windsor’s voice cut in smoothly. Evan turned first, his bright eyes radiating genuine warmth. After a heartbeat of startled hesitation, Jacqueline recovered her poise.
“This is Mr. Evan Knox, the eldest son of Count Brandon Knox. Mr. Knox, may I present Lord Preston.”
“A distinct pleasure, Lord Preston,” Evan said, extending his hand. The young man’s smile was refreshing, devoid of any hidden agenda.
He showed no trace of the suspicion one might expect when meeting a stranger; instead, he offered an open friendliness, initiating the handshake with a natural ease that suggested kindness was woven into his very DNA.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Knox. My thanks for joining us tonight.”
“The honor is mine. Thank you for the invi—?”
Evan’s greeting faltered, his expression flickering with sudden confusion. His eyes dropped to where his hand was trapped in Windsor’s.
Windsor Preston’s grip was formidable—so intense it felt as though he might actually crush the bones in Evan’s hand.
Ah, of course—the navy, Evan thought with a silent, strained chuckle. That explains the strength.
But Windsor did not let go. As the pressure mounted, Evan’s knuckles began to turn white. His brows knit together, and that cheerful, easy smile started to wither.
Jacqueline leaned toward Windsor, shielding her lips with her hand as she breathed a whisper meant only for him.
“You are holding his hand far too long, Lord Preston. It is becoming quite rude.”
Windsor’s eyebrow gave a sharp twitch. A moment later, his face smoothed back into its customary mask of detached indifference.
“I trust you will enjoy the festivities, Mr. Knox.”
Windsor finally loosened his hold. Evan stepped back, flexing his tingling fingers with a small sigh of relief. Ever resilient, his cheerful demeanor returned almost instantly.
“Thank you,” he said, before turning back to Jacqueline. “And please, Miss Somerset, don’t let Sir Saltrein’s earlier comments trouble you. We all know his reputation, don’t we?”
“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Knox. Truly. But I’ve already put him out of my mind.”
“Haha! I’m relieved to hear it. I was worried your feelings might have been bruised. Now I can breathe easier.”
Windsor watched Evan through narrowed eyes. Typically, he was not a man to judge on a first impression. His time in the military had taught him that men were complex; some hid daggers behind smiles, while others hid hearts of gold behind a gruff exterior.
Yet, something about Evan Knox grated on him from the very first second. Windsor wondered why. Perhaps it was because Evan represented the opposite of his own existence—a man born into the light.
There were no shadows in Evan. Every movement, from his effortless social graces to his eager handshake, radiated a confident, unburdened charm. He had clearly been raised in a world of affection and high expectations, much like Jacqueline must have been. It felt like his natural right.
Yes, Windsor decided. That had to be it.
“Miss Somerset, perhaps when you have a free moment…”
“I’m afraid I must excuse myself, Mr. Knox,” Jacqueline interrupted before he could finish. “I have duties that require my attention.”
She offered a quick farewell. Evan hesitated, his lips parting as if to protest, before he gave a reluctant nod. His eyes, naturally downturned, looked momentarily dejected before he forced another gentle smile.
“I’ve kept you too long, then. I shall contact you when the time is more appropriate.”
Jacqueline didn’t wait for a reply. She turned and hurried up the spiral staircase, feeling the weight of the stares from her former classmates. Their judgment felt like a physical force against her back. She was practically fleeing when a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Wait, Jackie!”
The familiar call caught her like a tether. Jacqueline paused and turned slowly. Standing right behind her was a woman with plump cheeks and deep, recognizable dimples. Her shoulders were heaving as if she had run a marathon to catch up. Jacqueline’s eyes widened.
“Samantha?”
“Jackie!”
Samantha threw her arms around her in a fierce hug. Despite the tension of the evening, Jacqueline found herself smiling, truly happy to see her old friend.
“It’s been so long!”
“Jackie, when did you arrive in the capital? And Preston Manor, of all places!” Samantha pulled back, her hands fluttering. She reminded Jacqueline of a busy squirrel—her round cheeks always looked as though they were hiding treats, and she was forever scurrying about in search of the next dessert. “And you didn’t send a single word! How could you be so cruel?”
Samantha pouted with a sense of mock betrayal. Jacqueline’s smile turned apologetic. It hadn’t been a deliberate snub; life had simply moved too fast.
“I’m so sorry, Samantha.”
Sensing the weight behind those few words, Samantha’s hurt vanished, replaced by instant empathy. She hugged Jacqueline again, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“I’m just so glad to see you’re well. Such a relief!”
Jacqueline closed her eyes, resting her head on Samantha’s shoulder. The faint, sweet scent of sugar and flour clung to her—the quintessential scent of Samantha. It made Jacqueline feel, for a fleeting moment, at peace.
Then, Samantha’s voice dropped to a cautious whisper. “I spotted Elizabeth and Victoria earlier. We should probably disappear before they—”
“Well, look who it is. If it isn’t our very own penniless lady, Jacqueline Somerset.”
Samantha sighed, her shoulders dropping. “Too late,” she muttered.
Jacqueline found herself cornered by the very people she had hoped to avoid, yet she refused to let her guard down. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. Squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin upward, she stood her ground. Her voice took on a sharp, haughty edge that felt like a relic from their days at Bristol Girls’ Boarding School.
“It has been a while, Elizabeth. Victoria.”
“The rumors said you’d taken a job as a governess for young Master Preston—I see they were true! Good heavens, a governess? I suppose the Somerset name really is a lost cause.”
“Does this mean you’ll be working for the rest of your life? Performing common labor… how exhausting that must be for you.”
Elizabeth and Victoria lobbed their insults under the guise of concern, but Jacqueline didn’t flinch.
“I appreciate your concern, Liz. You too, Victoria.”
“Oh? Did it sound like we were concerned?” Elizabeth hid a smirk behind her fan, erupting into a fit of giggles. Victoria followed suit with a sharp, mocking laugh.
Jacqueline watched them with a blank expression. Their rivalry was ancient history—it felt as though Elizabeth had been born hating her. As the daughter of Walter Greenwood, Jacqueline’s godfather, Elizabeth should have been a sister to her. Instead, she had been a shadow of spite.
Even as a child, Elizabeth would wail the moment Walter paid Jacqueline any attention. As they grew, she would sabotage any moment they shared.
“I’m sorry, Jackie. I’ve spoiled her terribly,” Walter used to say. Jacqueline remembered having to bite back the urge to tell him it wasn’t spoiling—it was a rotten soul.
Elizabeth’s obsession was so deep that she had even followed Jacqueline to Bristol, despite being two years younger, just to continue the torment. Their mutual loathing was legendary. Most people would avoid someone they disliked, but Elizabeth sought Jacqueline out like it was her life’s mission.
Samantha stepped forward, hands on her hips. “Enough! We graduated years ago—can you two not manage to act like adults for five minutes? It’s time to grow up.”
“And you?” Elizabeth sneered, looking down her nose at the shorter girl. “Are you still playing the role of Jacqueline’s maid even now?”
“What? A maid? Have you lost your mind?”
Samantha bristled, glaring up at Elizabeth. Jacqueline stepped between them, placing a calming hand on Samantha’s arm.
“Let’s catch up another time, just the two of us, Samantha. I have so much to tell you.”
She then turned her cool gaze toward the other two.
“Unless you want to make a scene at Lord Preston’s ball, I’d suggest you stop now, Liz. Your fiancé is watching, and he looks quite confused by your behavior.”
Elizabeth’s head snapped around. Sure enough, her fiancé was standing at the base of the stairs, looking up with a questioning expression as he waited for a dance.
“If you aren’t prepared to have a hair-pulling brawl in front of the man who’s waiting for you, then I suggest you move along. Though, make no mistake—I am perfectly happy to settle this whenever you like.”
Jacqueline offered a sweet, dangerous smile, slowly flexing her fingers as if she were truly ready to reach out and snatch Elizabeth’s hair.
