Chapter 27 The Dress and the Decision

The study door swung open.

Isabella, who had been listening with her ear pressed to it, stumbled into the hallway. She caught herself against the doorframe and glared at Eira.

"Mom. Dad." She grabbed Luna Margaret’s arm. "I thought you were going to do something about her."

"That’s enough, Isabella." Luna Margaret patted her hand, then turned to Eira with a careful smile. "You’re leaving already?"

Eira slipped on her shoes.

"I’ve said what I came to say."

She picked up her bag and walked out.

Isabella watched her go, confused. Something had happened in that study. Her parents had been furious when Eira arrived. Now they were acting almost polite.

That was not supposed to happen.

Eira was supposed to leave ashamed, not walk out looking like she had just won a negotiation.

Isabella waited until the front door closed. Then she pulled out her phone.

Isabella: Serena, come over tonight. We’re having dinner. Sebastian will be here.

She switched to her brother’s messages.

Isabella: Seb, Serena’s coming over tonight. We can still salvage my birthday dinner. Don’t let Eira ruin everything.

The replies came within minutes.

Serena: I’ll be there.

Sebastian: I’ll come by after work.

Isabella smiled.

Perfect.

She hurried back into the living room.

"Serena’s coming tonight," she announced. "And Eira is not invited."

Luna Margaret guided her back onto the sofa and pressed the ice pack against her cheek.

"She won’t be coming back tonight," Luna Margaret said. "Let her cool off somewhere else."

Isabella’s smile turned smug.

"Good. Serena can finally have the seat she deserves."

Luna Margaret glanced at her. "Don’t get ahead of yourself."

--

At the Thorne estate, Beatrice rested in a lounge chair in the garden, eyes closed as she enjoyed the late-afternoon sun.

She heard footsteps on the path.

"You’re back," she said without opening her eyes.

"I’m back."

Eira knelt beside her and rested her head near Beatrice’s shoulder.

Beatrice heard the exhaustion in her voice. She opened her eyes and smoothed Eira’s hair.

"I have something for you. Martin, bring it out."

Martin Cole appeared a moment later, pushing a dress form across the lawn. An ivory gown hung from it.

The bodice was covered in detailed lace over sheer illusion netting. It showed just enough skin to look elegant, never too much. A high lace collar framed the neckline, and three-dimensional flowers spread across the shoulders and chest.

The skirt was made of heavy satin. The front was simple. The back fell into layered pleats and large satin bows. Long gloves trimmed with pearls completed the look.

The gown looked like something from an old Hollywood romance.

"It’s from the late nineteenth century," Martin explained. "Dr. Thorne bought it for Mrs. Thorne at auction years ago. She wore it twice. It has been kept in storage ever since. I had a specialist restore it last month. It’s in excellent condition."

Eira stared at the dress.

"For me?"

"Do you like it?" Beatrice stood and walked over to the dress form. She ran her fingers over the lace, her expression softening with memory.

"Why are you giving me a gown?"

"For the gala." Beatrice looked at her. "You never buy formal clothes for yourself. Most modern gowns show more skin than you’d like, and you always end up choosing something plain."

She squeezed Eira’s hand.

"I want you to take care of yourself now. This is the start of a new Chapter."

Eira’s throat tightened.

"Thank you."

"Don’t be silly. Alaric would roll his eyes if he heard you thanking me for a dress." Beatrice gave her arm a light tap. "Now tell me. How did it go with Roger and Margaret?"

"They agreed to help with the filing."

"Good." Beatrice’s face hardened. "I’ve waited a long time for you to walk away from that family. After Alaric died, I was so lost in grief that I didn’t see how deeply Sebastian had pulled you into their life."

Eira stayed quiet.

"Though, to be fair, he wasn’t always like this." Beatrice’s voice softened. "He was handsome, attentive, and charming. I can’t blame you for falling for him."

She gave a small, amused smile.

"I fell for Alaric the same way. One look at that face and that calm voice, and I was finished."

Eira smiled. "Did he know?"

"Of course. I told him." Beatrice’s eyes sparkled. "I walked up to him and said, ’You’re ridiculously handsome. You should marry me.’"

Eira laughed.

"That worked?"

"It took him a week to answer. But he did."

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, talking until Eira finally felt some of the tension leave her body.

After dinner, she went to her room.

The room was spacious and bright, filled with the small comforts Beatrice had added over the years. Eira opened the top drawer of her desk and took out a black-and-gold envelope.

Her phone rang.

"Professor Davies."

"Did you get the invitation?"

"I did." Eira opened the envelope. Her name was printed across the card in elegant gold lettering.

"You’re going, right?" Professor Davies asked. "Only three people received the black-and-gold invitations. Dr. Victor Winthrop, me, and you. Victor won’t attend. His granddaughter Serena is expected to attend in his place."

He paused.

"I’m bringing Claire. She keeps asking if you’ll be there. She says she won’t go unless you do. She gets nervous at these events unless someone she trusts is there."

"I’ll be there."

"Really? You’re not just saying that to make Claire feel better?"

"Beatrice wants me to go."

"Then that settles it. If Mrs. Thorne wants you there, I’m satisfied."

He hesitated.

"One more thing. Sebastian will be there. Killian Sterling too, obviously. Be careful."

"I know."

Eira looked down at the invitation.

"Professor Davies."

"Yeah?"

"Sebastian isn’t my husband anymore."

Silence filled the line.

Then he said quietly, "I see. I’m sorry, Eira."

"Good night, Professor."

"Good night."

The call ended.

Professor Davies lowered his phone and let out a long breath.

"Finally," he murmured. "She’s finally free."

He had watched Eira wear herself down for four years. She skipped meals, ran between the lab and the Hale estate, and lived like an unpaid housekeeper for people who treated her like staff.

It had broken his heart.

If Eira had been his daughter, he would have lost his mind.

Alaric had trusted him to look after her. Eira was like a second daughter to him. But she had seemed content, so he had stayed quiet.

Not anymore.

She was out.

And that was worth celebrating.