All eyes in the room turned toward Evangeline.
Surprise, disbelief, envy…
She could feel the weight of those stares pressing down on her, and for a brief moment, she froze.
Before she could collect her thoughts, Soren leaned in, his voice low and meant for her alone. “Wait for me in the lounge after this,” he said, his tone cool and detached.
He didn’t wait for a response. Soren turned away, striding toward Poppy.
Under everyone’s gaze, he took Poppy’s hand—a blush flooding her cheeks—and led her to the center of the ballroom.
A number of guests exchanged satisfied glances, whispering to each other while darting looks between Soren, Poppy, and Evangeline.
“I told you, Mr. Fawkes always opposed this marriage. He’s visited Miss Yates every year since she left. Now that she’s back, of course he’d choose her.”
“Still, why did he go to Evangeline just now?”
“Obviously to put her in her place first. She made his ‘one and only’ suffer for five years.”
“Poor thing.”
“Poor? She wrecked someone else’s engagement to get this marriage in the first place—she brought it on herself.”
Evangeline pretended not to hear the familiar barbs and continued nibbling her pastry.
She was only human. Of course their words stung.
In the past, it would have taken her ages to collect herself. Maybe she’d just grown used to it, or maybe she simply didn’t care anymore.
By the time she finished her pastry, she’d regained her composure.

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