The garden was too quiet. Too still. Evelina hated that silence, it made her heart sound louder than it should. The roses hung heavy in the air, their sweetness almost cloying, and she thought if she stayed another second, she might choke on it.
But he was there.
Lucian Ravenscroft. Tall, unreadable, half in moonlight, half in shadow as though he had been made for both. She wanted to look away, but she could not.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, though the words shook, thin as glass.
He did not flinch. "I know." A pause. "But I couldn't stay away." Her hands clenched in her skirts. "Do you even realize what this means? If anyone saw… if anyone guessed—"
"I know what it means." His voice was quiet, but firm. "I know better than anyone. And I do not care."
She swallowed hard. "You should care. My family. The court. You know how they speak. One word could ruin—"
"Evelina," he said, cutting her off. Her name on his lips made her breath falter. He stepped closer, close enough that the air felt different around him. "Let them ruin me. Let them ruin everything. I'd rather be ruined than silent."
She shook her head, but her resolve was slipping. "You make it sound so easy. It is not easy. It will never be easy."
"Then tell me one thing." His voice was lower now, rough, stripped bare. "Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away. Tonight. I will let them bind me in duty, chain me in silence. I will do it. But if you do not…" His chest rose and fell with the weight of it. "If you do not, then say nothing. Just do not."
The garden held its breath. She could hear the beat of her own pulse louder than the night itself. She closed her eyes, tried to summon the lie, tried to say the words that would save them both.
When she opened them again, she could not.
"I cannot," she whispered.
The truth slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
And that was all it took.