Lady Eveline Marrowell's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Eveline adjusted her silver gloves and studied her reflection in the mirror. The Duke of Skelington would be hers. She had endured one season already, survived the whispers after Lord Femur's ball, and hired the best dancing master in the city. Now she needed to secure Mortimer's proposal before Countess Grimshaw stole him away. The Countess made him laugh too easily, danced with him too well. But Eveline had made him laugh at the musicale too. She descended the stairs and headed toward the town square. The Regal Phantasm Symphony would be performing this afternoon. Nobles always gathered there to listen and socialize. Mortimer might attend. She needed to position herself where he would see her, speak with her, remember that she could make him laugh just as the Countess did. The croquet lawn stretched before her on the way. Eveline paused. She had practiced with the elegant wooden mallets for weeks, perfecting her form. If Mortimer saw her skill and grace, it might catch his attention. She lifted a mallet and sent a brightly colored ball rolling across the grass in a perfect arc. The strike was clean, confident. She imagined the wedding pergola where she would stand beside him. Gold accents gleaming. Emerald green bows against delicate blue flowering vines. Every detail perfect. Every moment earned. The Duke would be hers because she refused to accept anything less. The Countess might make him laugh, but Eveline would make him choose her.