Walter de Ville's Advocate

Chapter Twenty

"Evie?" I called from outside her suite. I hadn't seen her since she regained consciousness a couple hours later, and then she'd been promptly taken upstairs by my wives – with some help, of course – so that they could help her get ready for the ceremony.

From what I'd heard, she still wasn't taking everything well.

I fiddled with the buttons of my red, velvet jacket, and adjusted the frills of my dress shirt. Everything was in perfect order, but I was anxious about tonight and kept finding myself righting things that didn't need it.

"Evie, my love? I was told you needed to speak to me?" I asked again as I rapped my knuckles on the door. Viktoria and Lucy were now downstairs making final checks before our walk down the aisle, but Mrs. Swift was still seeing to her, and there were sentries posted outside of her door.

"Forget it," she muttered.

I chuckled as I walked inside with my eyes closed, my gaze otherwise averted. "Come, now. We're about to be husband and wife, and communication is key in any successful relationship."

Evie scoffed, but then it was quickly followed by a groan, "Why are your eyes closed?"

Shrugging with a half-smile, I almost laughed that she tried to ignore the obvious answer. "It's bad luck for the groom to see his bride in her dress before the wedding." When she didn't respond, I decided to be proactive. "Thank you, Mrs. Swift. I'll see to Evie from here. Do have Alfred Alexander meet her in the foyer in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

When the door closed behind her, Evie spoke up. "Open your damned eyes, Walter."

"Language," I taunted, "but if you truly insist, I will."

Silence past between us.

"I insist."

I opened my eyes, and then turned to rest them on Evie dressed in a draping gown of white chiffon, with loose sleeves cinched in a cuff at the wrist, and with hand-embroidered red flowers with small details of green and gold. The design was reminiscent of my home country, and I was happy to see how well it turned out, not to mention how the whole ensemble looked on my new bride.

"You look . . . absolutely . . .," I sighed and blinked, "stunning." I had wanted to tell her how ravishing she looked, but I was aware of how apprehensive she was already feeling. Most of my brides felt this way on the day of our wedding – and though it would soon go away once we were wed – Evie was having a harder time than most of them.

"I can't do this," she said. "And no one will give me my phone."

I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes. "Surely you understand why," I tilted my chin up. "You'll be able to text Grace sometime afterwards, but we will have to find a way to break off that friendship, or explain why you are not coming back; then perhaps the friendship can slowly fade away."

Evie balked.

"See, this is why I didn't want to see you before the wedding," I groaned and paced towards her. "We cannot announce to the world what we are, and your friend seems to be a fierce protector of you."

She huffed, "Is that a bad thing?"

"Absolutely not, and I commend her for filling that role for you up until now . . . but if it has to be one or the other, I fervently request that it be me," I said with a quick pull of one corner of my mouth. Evie crossed her arms and walked away from me, then looked back over her shoulder.

"I wouldn't choose a liar," she said, then turned back to look out of her window.

I strode towards her quickly, and rested my hands on her shoulders as I watched the moonlight dancing over the lake in the distance. She definitely couldn't see it as well as I could, and I knew that the artistic side of her would thoroughly enjoy the heightened vision her transformation would provide. Honestly, she'd appreciate a lot of what she'd be able to see, and I wondered how it would affect her art.