Chapter 17
No.1
"Enough," he said, uncharacteristically placating. "Mrs. Wilson's been dealt with. No one will speak out of turn again."
"You punished her for theft, not for humiliating me," Evelyn countered.
"Silence!" Alexander's temper flared. "How long will you harp on this nonsense?"
His concession wasn't license for her demands.
He despised her greed, yet she insisted on provoking him.
But what infuriated him more was her rejecting his rare mercy.
Evelyn's smile turned lethal. "So to Lord Alex, this is trivial."
No.2
Ignoring his thunderous expression, she continued, "Then don't trouble yourself over trifles. You may ignore it, but I can't."
Her calm demeanor made Alexander's jaw clench.
He seized her wrist again, voice dropping dangerously low. "Was the maid wrong? Aren't you just my—"
He broke off abruptly.
Someone was still present.
"Why are you still here?" His murderous glare sent Ethan trembling.
"Lord Alex... Madam Kingsley arrived with Miss Isabella and Mr. Julian. They're downstairs..."
No.3
Alexander's expression darkened. "Why wasn't I informed?"
Ethan stammered, "Madam forbade me. I only knew when you summoned me..."
Alexander released Evelyn and strode toward the stairs, pausing halfway to fix her with a warning glare.
"Watch your tongue. Understood?"
As he rounded the staircase, Eleanor Kingsley's gentle voice floated up.
"Violence is unacceptable. I'll make certain she apologizes properly."
Hearing footsteps, she turned sharply. "Look what you've done! Have you no—"
No.4
Eleanor Kingsley's words trailed off abruptly.
Footsteps echoed from the staircase as Alexander Kingsley descended with a stormy expression. A purple bruise marred his temple, his cheekbone bore a sickly yellow hue, and dried blood crusted his split lip. Deep scratches ran along his jawline.
He looked even worse than Julian Ashford lounging on the sofa with an ice pack.
Eleanor's temper flared.
"How dare you show your face?" Her phoenix eyes flashed. "Starting a fight was idiotic enough, but getting your ass handed to you? You've humiliated the Kingsley name! Why didn't Mr. Ashford finish the job?"
Julian: "..."
That insult seemed to target both men.
No.5
Alexander stalked toward his mother, though his glare remained fixed on Julian. "Get out."
The air turned glacial.
Eleanor suddenly exhaled, diffusing the tension.
"Thank goodness." She pressed a hand to her chest, her gaze softening toward Evelyn Sinclair on the stairs. "At least Evelyn's unharmed..."
Seeing Isabella Winslow's swollen face had made her fear the worst. But Evelyn stood composed, her clothes pristine—a sight that eased Eleanor's panic.
Isabella bristled.
"Aunt Eleanor," she whimpered behind her hands, "you just said violence is wrong—"
No.6
"I meant those two." Eleanor's tone stayed pleasant. "Girls roughhousing isn't fighting, it's bonding."
She continued before Isabella could protest, "If she hit you, why didn't you hit back?"
"Losing means you're weak, dear. Fragile flowers are outdated—sometimes you need claws to get what you want."
Isabella: "..."
Last week Eleanor had praised Evelyn's classical elegance while complaining modern girls were too vulgar.
This hypocritical old hag!
"Mrs. Kingsley."
No.7
Evelyn approached, only for Eleanor to seize her hands.
"Evelyn, I came after hearing disturbing rumors." Eleanor beamed. "Seeing you here reassures me."
Evelyn's throat tightened at the familiar face.
"I only came to return some things today. I'm leaving soon."
Since arriving at the Kingsleys at ten, Eleanor had treated her better than her own daughter. The kindest repayment was accepting that love.
But today, she had to disappoint her.
"Alexander and I... broke up. I ended it."