The rich town of Wickhurst began its day just like any other. Servants hurried down the streets to procure necessary things, shop owners opened their shops and exchanged gossips with the servants who then went home to deliver a slightly unique version of the story to the scullery maids and whoever else would listen. The scullery maids then told the chambermaids who told their mistresses, who then told their husbands, sisters, and whoever else would listen.
That very morning, from the time Wickhurst woke up to the moment breakfast was served and the fresh copy of The Town Herald was laid on the table, everyone around the table had an inkling of its contents.
The stories delivered by everyone were all the same: The Everard Engagement Ball and Lady Alice Everard, by far the strangest mother anyone in Wickhurst had seen, was an ecstatic host.
One would think she would be the first to throw Agatha Blair out of the estate, but no! She welcomed the chit with open arms and planned a large engagement ball for the woman and Benedict, inviting not just the richest people in Wickhurst but also the sought-after personalities from other towns.
"But then we should know better. Alice Everard had always been different," whispered the mothers to their daughters and husbands. "Them Everards are lucky they are rich."
"If the Haverstons or the Theobalds did not come, these self-absorbed, righteous polite society of Wickhurst would not be here," Clarice murmured beside Tori.
She gave her stepmother a sideway glance and smiled away a snort. The lady just perfectly described herself. "I must admit I thought you would not come, Clarice,"
She always found it wrong to call the woman stepmother because Clarice was too young. The woman was merely ten years older than her. And more beautiful, as a matter-of-fact. With her black hair, blue eyes and fair skin, Clarice had higher chances of stealing attention than Tori ever could. And of course, there were the expensive gowns the woman enjoyed the most.
"Whyever would I not?"
"The Everards are still in a deep scandal, after all."
Clarice's eyes widened. "I cannot believe you would think of me in such a manner, Victoria. Of course, I would attend even if no one would!" the woman hissed under her breath. "The Everards are not just our neighbors—they are dear friends! You are Margaret's best friend, or have you forgotten that? And whatever scandal might come to them, they are still undeniably the Everards. The rest of them may marry a scullery maid and they will still survive society. With their mines and fine jewels, everyone would soon forget this scandal."
"Of course," Tori wryly murmured under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Oh, I see Margaret," she said instead, already sauntering away.
"You cannot walk away without—"
"I am nearly officially a spinster, Clarice, I do not think I will need a chaperone," she said over her shoulder, itching to get away from the woman.
From afar, she saw Margaret Everard standing alone, looking around the ballroom as if in search of someone.
Tori stole her stepmother one last look before rushing toward her friend.
"She is preparing to leave the estate," she murmured even before Margaret noticed her presence. "We are losing it soon. I am losing it soon."
Margaret's emerald green eyes blinked at her in confusion, but not for long as understanding dawned on the woman. "You have not found the documents?"
"No. It is nowhere in the manor."
"Then you should go directly to the solicitor."
"She has Mr Frasier under her control," she murmured, nonchalantly looking about.
"Do you want me to—"
"No. You should focus your efforts on your family. This is a delicate time for all of you. I still have time, I believe."
"What do you mean?"
Tori cleared her throat and stepped closer to her friend. "Lucas Rowe asked for my hand."
Margaret's face crumpled with revulsion. "Surely you are not considering it."
"Clarice refused."
"But surely you are not considering him!" her friend repeated.
She looked away. "Tori, think clearly. He is Clarice's nephew. You will never escape her clutches if you marry into her family."
"But I will have my dowry."
"Not if Lucas Rowe controls it," Margaret hissed. "You may still get your mother's settlement money."
"If Mr Frasier will allow it. Clarice goes to his office every Wednesday and we both know why."
Margaret sighed. "If your dowry is the only way for you to save the estate, then you need to find someone who will allow you to have control over your finances. Lucas Rowe is not that person."
"Maggie, I do not have a line of suitors outside the door."
Her friend frowned at her. "Who says one needs a line outside the door? You get out the door, Tori." Leaning closer, her friend added under her breath, "All you need is a good Wickhurst Season and a man who will help you save your father's estate."
***
Levi found himself lost in a crowd he had once loved and charmed. Not many years ago, he lived for their attention, their praises, and desperate attempts to be close to him.
But now, Levi was making certain not to make eye contact with any of the mamas or their daughters. The Everards may now be in the midst of a scandal, but they were still without a doubt among the most affluent families, not just in Wickhurst but in the entire Town.
Marrying one of the five Everard brothers would be deemed a miracle, as what most mamas would say. Well, they ought to make that four now that Benedict was getting leg-shackled.
One thing was certain for Levi: he would be the next subject of desire for the marriage mart as the second eldest Everard.
And he could almost feel the war coming his way. Like a lone soldier in the middle of a battlefield, hearing the sounds of hooves as the Wickhurst Season loomed from a distance.
But Levi did not need a wife. He was here to support his fool of a brother and his chosen bride and pray for their family's name to be finally out of the Herald's front pages.
His sisters were yet to be married, and their names had to be unmarred as much as possible. He refused to see them marry a gentleman not up to scratch. Their father would crawl out of his grave if that were to happen.
But trouble came when from the corner of his eye he saw a familiar middle-aged woman dragging her daughter in his direction. It was instinct, seconded by an urgent desire to have just one Everard wedding this year, that made Levi turn on his heel to find a comrade.
He remembered his father talking about this when they were younger. The man, God bless his soul, had taught his sons how to expertly avoid the desperate mothers and scandals, having spent years doing the same before he met his wife, the Great Alice Everard. But it seemed mothers and scandals had mastered their arts along the years, Levi thought as he looked around the ballroom.
His eyes spotted Margaret.
"Go to your mother, son. She's always the best weapon you can have," he remembered his father's words. Well, their mother was nowhere near, but Margaret would do.
"The solicitors are coming next month. It would only be a matter of time before we have to pack and leave." Levi slowed his steps, realizing Margaret was not alone. His sister was talking to a woman with blond hair whose back was turned to him.
Perhaps he should really find his mother. Or one of his brothers. But where were the bloody bastards?
He looked over his shoulder. The mama was still dragging her weapon clad in a blue dress across the ballroom. He could already see the next scene: the mother would present the said weapon to him and find a way—and they always did—to force Levi to ask for a dance.
"We should think of a good plan. You are not to do anything rash, do you understand?" Margaret's hissing voice said.
"Well, I am uncertain your plan will work either, Maggie."
Levi did not want to intrude, for the woman sounded anxious, but his situation seemed more urgent and desperate. He jumped in front of his sister, beside the blond woman, without a ready greeting in mind.
Margaret spun her head toward him, and so did the woman she was talking to.
For a moment, Levi forgot about the mama and her daughter as his green eyes met the most interesting gray globes he had ever seen. Or were they blue? No, they were definitely gray.
Or maybe they are blue.
"Levi, where are your manners?" he vaguely heard his sister ask, tone irked.
Lost in the deep, gray-blue waters, he answered in his mind as his thoughts swam in the same gray-blue depths. They blinked, displaying long lashes that perfectly curved and whispered a caress on her skin.
"Levi," the soft voice said as she curtsied.
He tried to clear his throat. That was a hasty curtsy, one given to someone they were too familiar with or deemed less important.
His eyes blinked a few times, confused. Somehow, he knew he should recognize her.
Her hair was not blond at all. Not completely. It had a touch of light brown and he would gladly explore them with his fingers should he be given the chance. Mayhap then he could add another moment to study the actual color of her eyes while doing so.
Looking back into them, he realized they were staring at him with a great deal of recognition and familiarity. Then he blinked. Did she just call him Levi?
He frowned. When a faint smile curved her full lips, Levi slowly realized he might know her after all.
Tearing his gaze from the woman, he turned to his scowling sister. "She is Tori, is she not?"
His sister's scowl deepened as the lady beside him chuckled. A soft one. A very delicate chuckle that sent a shiver through him.
"Still the comical one, are you not, Levi?" Tori asked, her voice now clear and terribly familiar.
The enchanting feeling, the bit of desire he felt just moments ago, instantly dissipated into thin air as his guess was confirmed. And then the disappointment.
Victoria Ashdown! He had been momentarily charmed by a woman who was practically his sister!
Bloody tarnation, where had he been all these years?
"You look quite speechless, my lord," Tori said with a jesting tone. "Have I grown too striking in the last three years?"
It had been three years since he saw her? How was that possible when he practically grew up with her?
He had been traveling around the Town for a year before he settled in Standbury two years ago, therefore he had not seen her for that long. But surely, it was not possible for a human to drastically change from a sickly frame to one that was worth—
He should not finish that thought.
Tori. She was Tori, he reminded himself.
The feeling of familiarity returned, melting away his body's initial response to the woman. "Good God, Tori, you look like a proper woman!"
"Levi!" Margaret hissed, slapping his arm.
Tori chuckled. Good Lord, even her laughter was enchanting. Unbelievably familiar and enchanting.
Again, Levi cleared his throat. "My apologies, ladies," he said instead, "but I greatly need your company."
"Our company?" Margaret asked.
"To scare away another or two," he explained under his breath.
Tori moved beside him to make a slight turn and see who he might refer to. Her bare arm, the part not covered by her gloves, touched his clothed one.
Levi immediately shook off the instant reaction. He had been too long without a woman, that's all it was, he reasoned.
Victoria Ashdown was practically his sister.
For God's sake, he had seen her in naught but her flimsy nightdresses when she had to stay the many nights with Margaret since she was nine and he was fourteen! He saw her running about playing with him and his brothers. On some occasions, he made her cry. Or was that Nick?
No matter, she was his sister's best friend. And he would never mess around with one of his sisters' friends. That was not just done.
Yes, that was right. She was practically his sister!
Yet she was also the same woman who admitted she fancied him.
Again, he mentally shook his head. She had said that merely as a joke. Victoria Ashdown had always loved to jest on trivial things, often oddly.
Levi always believed her humor was different, and anyone who laughed at them would be considered a person of high intellect. She was one who would lace her jokes with a sarcastic, dry tone, but also artfully that would leave one irrevocably confused.
That time she confessed she fancied him was also the time she called Benedict funny, Levi reminded himself.
Not a soul had believed her, he the most of all.
"I believe your predators have made a retreat, my lord," Tori said beside him. "And I see the twins from across the room, talking with the Haverstons. You might wish to have them as your comrades."
"She meant to say you are free to go because we are discussing a very sensitive topic," Margaret said to Levi when he did not move.
He arched an eyebrow. "You mean to say you spinsters are—"
"You may not call us such," Tori snapped. "We have two more years to be officially on the shelf."
"Two years is not that long," he said, stepping back with a smile as the two ladies turned to him with a scowl.
"But not too short for things to change," she snapped back in her familiar haughty way.
His gaze held by hers, he smiled. "Indeed," he replied. "Always my pleasure to irate you so, ladies," he said, retreating with a mocking grand bow. "Just like the old times, eh?" He winked before turning about to search for the evil twins.
Ah, there they are, he mentally said, spotting the two black-haired vixens.
Making his way toward his youngest siblings, Levi wondered what sensitive topic Margaret and Tori were discussing. Tori seemed distressed.
With a silent scoff, Levi decided it was not his place to meddle. He continued on his way toward the two youngest Everards.
They saw him and their emerald green eyes lit up.
"Levi!"
"My little darling devils!" he greeted.