Chapter 119: Founder’s ball XIV

Chapter 119: Chapter 119: Founder’s ball XIV

The Founders’ Ball carried on beneath the glow of crystal chandeliers.

The orchestra flowed effortlessly into another waltz.

Couples returned to the dance floor while conversations resumed throughout the Grand Assembly Hall. Laughter drifted between clusters of students. Seniors welcomed familiar classmates back after the summer break, while first-years took in the university’s oldest tradition with quiet excitement.

Near one of the tall windows, Damian stood with Julian and Adrian.

Like much of the evening, the three of them found themselves greeting one acquaintance after another.

The conversation shifted naturally to the beginning of the new semester, committee assignments, and which professors had already acquired terrifying reputations among the incoming freshmen.

Damian answered when spoken to.

Smiled when appropriate.

Listened.

Yet...

His attention wandered.

Almost unconsciously...

His eyes searched the ballroom.

He found Vivienne almost immediately.

Claire had caught hold of her arm again.

Whatever she was saying caused Amelia to laugh.

Eleanor shook her head with quiet resignation.

Vivienne covered her mouth, clearly trying—and failing—not to laugh with them.

Even from across the ballroom...

He recognized that smile.

Bright.

Open.

Entirely genuine.

It reached her eyes before it ever reached her lips.

For reasons he had never really questioned...

She had always been wonderfully easy to tease.

At family gatherings, it had almost become a habit.

"Anthony."

He could almost hear his younger self calling across the gardens.

"I think someone’s looking for you."

Anthony would glance up from whatever book he happened to be reading.

Before he could say anything—

Vivienne would spin around.

"I am not!"

"No?"

Damian would grin.

"Then why are you always following him?"

Her cheeks would puff with indignation.

"I’m not following him!"

"You just happened to be walking in exactly the same direction?"

"Yes!"

"...For the fifth time today?"

She would huff.

Declare Damian Blackwood the most annoying person in the world.

Then storm away with all the dignity an indignant little girl could muster.

He had laughed every single time.

Back then...

He had never thought much about it.

Vivienne had simply made every family gathering a little livelier.

Across the ballroom...

Claire finally released her.

Vivienne smoothed the front of her gown almost unconsciously.

She drew a small breath.

Then...

She began walking.

Toward Anthony.

Anthony had just finished speaking with two members of the University’s Board of Trustees.

Almost as though sensing her approach...

He turned. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

The moment Vivienne saw him...

Her smile changed.

It softened.

Her eyes brightened with a quiet anticipation Damian had seen countless times before.

She looked at Anthony as though, for that brief moment...

No one else in the ballroom existed.

It was a familiar sight.

One he had witnessed since childhood.

Nothing about it had changed.

Anthony was still Anthony.

Vivienne was still Vivienne.

So why...

Why did something inside his chest suddenly feel... different?

He watched Anthony greet her.

Watched the two of them begin talking.

From where he stood, he couldn’t hear what was being said.

Nor was there anything remarkable about the scene.

Anthony was simply speaking with his fiancée.

Vivienne was simply speaking with the man she had always sought out first.

It was...

Perfectly ordinary.

Yet...

For reasons he could neither explain nor understand...

He found himself looking away.

"...Damian?"

Julian’s voice drew him back.

"Hm?"

"You alright?"

Damian blinked, as though only just remembering where he was.

"...Actually..."

He rubbed lightly at his temple.

"I think I’m going to head back."

Julian frowned.

"Already?"

"I’ve got a bit of a headache."

"It started a little while ago."

"I think I just need some sleep."

"You sure?" Julian asked.

Damian nodded.

"I’ll be fine."

Julian accepted the answer without another question.

"Alright."

"Get some rest."

"I will."

Adrian, however, remained quiet.

His gaze drifted briefly across the ballroom.

He found Vivienne standing beside Anthony.

Then...

His eyes returned to Damian.

For the briefest moment...

Something thoughtful flickered across his expression.

It disappeared almost immediately.

"...Take care."

Damian offered a small smile.

"I’ll see you both tomorrow."

With a final nod, he turned toward the ballroom doors.

Julian watched him leave before looking back toward the dance floor.

"Poor timing."

"He’ll miss the rest of the ball."

Adrian’s eyes lingered on the now-empty doorway for another heartbeat.

"...Yeah."

He wasn’t entirely certain...

But somehow...

The headache didn’t seem to be the real reason Damian had left.

The thought crossed his mind only briefly.

Perhaps...

It was merely a coincidence.

He said nothing.

The orchestra continued to play.

And the Founders’ Ball carried on as though nothing at all had changed.

--

The Founders’ Ball was everything Evelyn had imagined it would be.

Elegant.

Lively.

Filled with laughter, music, and conversations that seemed to flow as effortlessly as the orchestra’s melodies.

"...Lady Sinclair?"

Evelyn turned from the dance floor with a gentle smile.

"Yes?"

One of the young ladies she had become acquainted with since entering Saint Albion smiled knowingly.

"You’ve refused another one."

Another laughed softly.

"That’s the fourth gentleman tonight."

Evelyn blinked.

"Was it?"

"I’m beginning to think you’ve frightened them away."

The group laughed.

Evelyn joined them, though quietly.

"I’m afraid not."

"I simply... don’t feel much like dancing tonight."

It wasn’t entirely untrue.

Since arriving at the ballroom, several gentlemen had approached her.

Some she recognized from class.

Others were sons of noble families she had met only briefly.

Each invitation had been sincere.

Each had been politely declined.

No one pressed the matter.

She was, after all, Lady Evelyn Sinclair.

Though orphaned years ago, she remained the daughter of Count Sinclair.

Most of his estates and fortune had passed to her.

Until she reached full adulthood, Lord and Lady Ashford had become both her guardians and the protectors of the Sinclair household.

Beautiful.

Well-born.

Gentle.

There was little wonder so many young men wished to dance with her.

Yet...

None of them were Anthony.

She had long since realized how unfair that thought was.

Anthony was attending the Founders’ Ball with Lady Vivienne Beaumont.

There had never been any possibility of escorting her.

Even so...

She couldn’t bring herself to accept another gentleman’s arm.

Perhaps...

She simply didn’t wish to pretend.

Earlier...

The opening waltz had begun.

As tradition dictated, Anthony had stepped onto the dance floor beside Lady Beaumont.

Evelyn had watched from where she stood.

She had expected it.

They were engaged.

It would have been stranger had they danced with anyone else.

Still...

Watching them together left the familiar ache inside her chest.

She had grown used to it.

It would pass.

It always did.

As the evening continued, conversations gradually replaced the formal dances.

Evelyn spoke politely with her companions, though now and then her attention wandered toward Anthony.

It always seemed to.

Then...

The atmosphere in the ballroom shifted.

She noticed it first in the whispers.

"...Lord Blackwood..."

"...Lady Beaumont again..."

"...haven’t they been together all week?"

"...poor Lord Ashford..."

Evelyn lowered her eyes.

Those rumors again.

She had heard them throughout the past week.

Students speaking about the luncheon.

About committee meetings.

About the Literature Society.

She had dismissed every one of them.

Anthony trusted Lady Beaumont.

Surely...

There had to be some misunderstanding.

Then another dance began.

Lord Blackwood crossed the floor.

He extended his hand.

Lady Beaumont accepted it.

Evelyn watched the pair join the dance.

The whispers around her grew louder.

"They look rather suited, don’t they?"

"I almost forgot Lady Beaumont was engaged."

"I feel sorry for Lord Ashford."

"...Honestly."

Evelyn looked away.

She didn’t want to listen.

She didn’t want to believe any of it.

When the music ended, Lady Claire and the other young ladies hurried toward Lady Beaumont almost immediately, surrounding her with cheerful excitement before anyone else could.

Their laughter carried easily across the ballroom.

The evening resumed its rhythm.

Another piece began.

Students returned to their conversations.

Not long afterward, another gentleman approached Evelyn with a courteous bow.

"Lady Sinclair."

"May I have this dance?"

She offered him the same apologetic smile she had given everyone else.

"I’m terribly sorry."

"Perhaps another time."

Though disappointed, the young man accepted her refusal graciously before taking his leave.

"...You really aren’t dancing tonight," one of her companions remarked.

Evelyn smiled faintly.

"I don’t believe I am."

Her gaze drifted across the ballroom once more.

Lady Beaumont was still speaking with Lady Claire and the others.

Whatever had been said caused her to laugh.

Brightly.

Without care.

A few minutes passed.

Eventually, Lady Claire released her.

Lady Beaumont smoothed the front of her gown before looking around the ballroom.

Then...

She began walking.

Toward Anthony.

Evelyn found herself watching.

Anthony turned the moment Lady Beaumont reached him.

They exchanged a few quiet words.

From where Evelyn stood, she couldn’t hear them.

Then...

Anthony took a small step backward.

His ears...

Were red.

A heartbeat later, he excused himself.

He left the ballroom.

Evelyn stared after him.

...

Anthony?

For six years...

She had known him better than almost anyone.

She had seen him tired.

Patient.

Frustrated.

Quietly amused.

She had never—

Not once—

Seen him react that way.

A strange unease settled inside her.

Slowly...

Her gaze returned to Lady Beaumont.

She remained standing where Anthony had left her.

Looking after him.

Evelyn couldn’t understand it.

She had tried.

She truly had.

She had ignored every rumor.

Dismissed every whisper.

Believed there had to be some explanation.

But tonight...

She had watched Lady Beaumont dance with Lord Blackwood before the entire university.

She had heard the whispers grow louder with every passing minute.

Then, only a short while later...

Lady Beaumont had walked straight to Anthony.

As though none of it mattered.

As though nothing had happened.

How could she?

If she truly loved Anthony...

How could she smile at another man like that?

How could she allow people to question her devotion so openly?

How could she give the university reason to whisper behind Anthony’s back?

The thought came before she could stop it.

It was cruel.

Anthony deserved better.

He deserved someone whose heart belonged only to him.

Someone who would never make him endure this.

Someone who would cherish the quiet kindness he gave so freely.

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her untouched glass.

...

Was that truly all she felt?

Was this only indignation on Anthony’s behalf?

She closed her eyes.

No.

It wasn’t.

She had lied to herself for years.

She wasn’t only angry.

She was jealous.

Painfully.

Hopelessly jealous.

Lady Beaumont had reached Anthony in ways she never had.

She had made him blush.

She had made him lose his composure.

She had made him leave the ballroom.

And Evelyn...

Had remained by his side for six years...

Without ever once making him look at her that way.

A quiet laugh escaped her lips.

How foolish.

She had convinced herself that loving him silently was enough.

That standing beside him was enough.

That asking for nothing was enough.

None of it had ever been true.

She wanted Anthony to see her.

Not as the girl the Ashfords had raised.

Not as someone who quietly followed behind him.

Not as a younger sister.

But as a woman.

Her eyes lifted toward the ballroom doors through which Anthony had disappeared.

If she remained silent...

Nothing would ever change.

For the first time in six years...

Evelyn Sinclair allowed herself to choose her own heart.

She set down her untouched glass.

Then quietly followed after him.