Where Roses Bloom at Night

Chapter Two: Dinner with the Harrowgates

The Harrowgate dining room was already alive with candlelight and the scent of roast duck by the time Eveline and Lottie descended the stairs. The room was an elaborate affair — dark wood gleaming, and a long table sat under a chandelier that looked like a frozen fountain. The Marquess of Halifax, Bertie Harrowgate, sat at the head of the table, contentedly carving the roast duck while Lady Josephine Harrowgate fluttered with the grace of a woman who had raised three children and still never let a dinner go unplanned.

Eveline took her seat beside her father and opposite her brother, Rupert, while Lottie slid in next to Abigail — Eveline’s younger sister by two years and her greatest theatrical rival. Abigail offered Lottie a tight smile and ignored Eveline entirely.

“You must be gracious tonight, Evie,” her mother said, as a footman spooned potatoes onto her plate. “You’ll be the brightest star of the ball — I’ve heard as much from three separate dowagers.”

“Mama,” Evie began cautiously.

“And Lord Whitcombe and Mr. Post will be there,” she continued, ignoring the protest. “As will Mr. Everly. All are exceedingly eligible, and two have most all their hair.”

“I heard Lord Whitcombe recently purchased a manor in Surrey,” remarked Abigail.

“He must be thinking of settling down,” nodded Lady Harrowgate.

Eveline reached for the potatoes. “Or he just likes horses.”

“Men do not buy land for horses, darling. They buy land for wives to fill with babies.”

“Excellent,” said Rupert. “Perhaps I should purchase a pub.”

Lady Harrowgate ignored him. “Mr. Everly’s mother mentioned to me — very pointedly — that he finds pale complexions charming. I said, ‘My Eveline is practically translucent!’”

“High praise,” Eveline muttered while shooting a look to Lottie.

“You needn’t impress anyone, dearest. If you’d rather stay home and marry your library, I’d bless the match.” The Marquess interjected with a light laugh.

Lady Harrowgate rolled her eyes. “She’s not marrying books, my love. She’s nineteen. I had a husband by eighteen, less you forget.”

“Best day of my life, mon ami,” he said, raising a glass to his wife.

The Marquess gave Eveline a warm smile. “You don’t need to marry unless you wish it, love. You’re perfect as you are.”

Lady Harrowgate groaned. “Bertie, don’t encourage her. She already has opinions.”

“And a right hook,” he said. “That’s two more advantages than most men.”

Eveline smiled and ate her dinner.