The carriage turned onto a quieter street, and the crowded shops and cafés gradually gave way to elegant rows of townhouses behind black iron gates.
Small gardens filled the spaces between them, and family crests were proudly displayed above polished doors.
Their carriage stopped before a cream-colored townhouse with dark red shutters and ivy climbing one side.
Above the entrance rested the Bellafonte crest: a golden sunflower beneath a rising sun.
Aurelian stared at it.
It was beautiful.
It was also not home.
The footman opened the carriage door, allowing warm city air to rush inside.
Aurelian stepped down onto the polished path and immediately found the townhouse staff waiting in a neat line before the entrance.
He stopped.
He knew this was normal.
Servants were expected to greet the family upon their arrival.
Knowing that did not make the sight of everyone standing so properly any less unnerving.
His mother took his arm.
“Come,” she said.
“Let us see the house.”
The inside was grander than Aurelian expected.
Marble covered the entrance floor, sunlight poured through tall windows, and a carved staircase swept toward the upper level.
Fresh flowers stood in carefully placed vases, not a petal out of place.
Everything was polished.
Everything was arranged.
Everything looked as though it might be offended if touched incorrectly.
Aurelian followed his parents while the housekeeper showed them through the main rooms.
There was a receiving room for guests, a formal dining room, several guest chambers, a library, and a garden behind the townhouse with stone paths winding around a small fountain.
The music room caught his attention immediately.
A harp stood near the window.
It was not the one he played at home, but it was a beautiful instrument of pale wood and golden strings.
Aurelian crossed the room before he could stop himself, his fingers hovering near the frame.
His mother smiled.
“We had it brought in for you.”
Aurelian looked back at her.
“You did?”
“Of course.
We thought it might help you feel more comfortable.”
Something in his chest softened.
He touched the strings gently, allowing a single quiet note to drift through the room.
For the first time since passing through Evelina’s gates, his shoulders relaxed.
“Thank you.”
His father nodded toward the hallway.
“There is also a writing desk in the library.
Your poetry books were sent ahead with the rest of your belongings.”
Aurelian lowered his hand from the harp.
The city was still too large, and the coming season remained more intimidating than he cared to admit.
But at least there would be music.
And words.
And somewhere quiet to hide, if necessary.
Later, after his parents left to discuss household matters, Aurelian found himself in the library.
Several of his books already occupied the shelves.
His notebooks had been stacked neatly upon the writing desk near the window, accompanied by fresh paper, ink, and quills.
Aurelian ran his fingers over the cover of one.
Most of the poems inside had been written at home—little pieces about warm fields, horses crossing red roads, tea leaves after rain, and whatever else had occupied his thoughts at the time.
He wondered what people in Evelina wrote poetry about.
Perhaps chandeliers.
Marble statues.
Courtly smiles.
The tragedy of wearing the same pair of gloves twice.
Aurelian smiled despite himself.
He sat and opened the notebook to a blank page.
For several moments, he considered writing something about the capital.
Only one line came to him.
The city shines too brightly for a man who prefers the sun.
Aurelian stared at it.
Then frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
He closed the notebook.
Perhaps writing could wait until Evelina stopped making him feel as though every conversation might contain a second conversation everyone understood except him.
He leaned back and looked through the window toward the garden.
“I only need to survive a few months,” he murmured.
“Make a few friends.
Avoid scandal.
Return home.”
It sounded simple enough.
That alone made it suspicious.
A knock came at the library door.
“Come in.”
His parents entered together.
Aurelian knew that expression.
It was the one they wore whenever they were about to tell him something they had already decided.
“No.”
Carina blinked.
Snyder stopped just inside the room.
Aurelian folded his hands over the desk.
“Whatever it is, no.”
“You do not even know what we are going to say,” his mother said.
“I know that tone.”
“What tone?”
“The tone of loving betrayal.”
His father rubbed a hand over his temple.
His mother tried very hard not to smile.
“There will be a welcoming tea in a few days,” she said.
Aurelian stared at her.
“A what?”
“A welcoming tea.
It is a gathering for several young nobles and their families.
Nothing too overwhelming.”
Aurelian slowly glanced around the library as though an alternative exit might have appeared since he last checked.
His father noticed.
“Aurelian.”
“I thought I would have more time.”
“You have three days.”
“That is not time.
That is a warning.”
“It will be good for you,” Carina continued.
“You will be introduced properly.
You will meet other young nobles.
You may even make friends.”
That was the unfortunate part.
Aurelian did want friends.
He had no desire to dazzle the court or gather influence.
He certainly had no interest in being paraded through the capital as a prospective husband.
But meeting people he could genuinely enjoy speaking with did not sound terrible.
He simply doubted noble society would make it easy.
“What if I offend someone?”
“You will apologize,” his father said.
“What if I offend someone important?”
“You will apologize more deeply.”
“What if I offend someone important who does not accept apologies?”
Carina’s smile strained.
“Then we will handle it.”
“That does not comfort me either.”
Snyder stepped closer to the desk.
“Aurelian, listen to me.
Your mother and I kept you away from the capital because we believed it was best.
Court politics can be cruel.
People smile while they measure your worth, and many learn to use kindness as another tool.
We did not want that world to harden you before you had the chance to know yourself.”
Aurelian’s expression softened.
“But hiding you forever would be its own kind of harm,” his father continued.
“You are a grown man.
You must learn how to stand among other nobles, not because you need to become like them, but because you need to know how to protect yourself from them.”
Aurelian looked down at his hands.
He understood.
He did not like it, but he understood.
“And,” his mother added, “you are not doing this alone.”
That made him look up.
His father nodded.
“We have asked an old family ally for assistance.”
Aurelian narrowed his eyes.
“What kind of assistance?”
“The helpful kind,” Carina said.
“That was not an answer.”
“She is the daughter of Viscount Sinclair,” Snyder explained.
“Lady Echo Sinclair.
Her family has been part of Evelina society for generations.
She knows the expectations of the season and has agreed to help guide you.”
Aurelian sat very still.
“Guide me?”
“With etiquette, introductions, social expectations, and whatever else you may need.”
“So I am being assigned a tutor.”
“A companion,” his mother corrected.
“A tutor.”
“A helpful companion.”
“A tutor with better gloves.”
His father turned toward the window.
His shoulders shook once.
Carina gave her husband a look before returning her attention to Aurelian.
“She will visit tomorrow afternoon.
Please be polite.”
“I am always polite.”
“You are polite when you are comfortable.”
“I am never comfortable.”
“That,” his mother said, “is why she is coming.”
Aurelian opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
There was no point arguing.
The decision had clearly been made long before they entered the room.