When Werner arrived at the Earl of Campbell's estate with his ladies-in-waiting, he found Herbert already waiting at the door, flanked by his entire family in full regalia.
No sooner had Werner stepped out of the carriage than Herbert strode forward, offering effusive greetings before ushering him inside for a tour of the house. Werner surveyed the interiors with an air of detached amusement, his maid Tanya hovering close behind.
"Your home is quite charming," he remarked politely. "Mrs. Cassie must have devoted considerable effort to it."
Herbert swelled with pride at the compliment. "Hahaha! You're too kind," he boomed. "We men labor to build our fortunes—what's a woman's duty but to tend to such trifles at home? It's hardly taxing work."
Werner's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Then my future wife shall have to be as capable as Mrs. Cassie. I trust the Earl of Campbell's household sets an exemplary standard."
Eager to impress, Herbert led Werner to the parlor—a room kept immaculately clean yet never used, its furnishings conspicuously grander than the rest of the house. Werner and Tanya exchanged a glance, their eyes glinting with silent mockery at the obvious pretension.
As the party settled onto the plush sofas, conversation turned to familial pleasantries. For Evelyn, it was her first time stepping inside the parlor in living memory. Aware that Alice was the day's intended focus, she kept to the periphery, stealing only furtive glances at the opulent decor. Her fingers brushed discreetly against the velvet upholstery, testing its softness, while she shifted slightly to feel the cushions yield beneath her.
Werner lounged in the central seat, the place of honor. He reclined lazily, one leg crossed over the other, his gaze drifting with deliberate indifference over the assembled company. His attention lingered on the Earl's daughters—Alice, resplendent in her lavish gown, and Evelyn, trailing behind in simpler attire. The disparity was unmistakable—— Alice, the cherished jewel of the family, and Evelyn, an afterthought in her own home.
So Werner turned his attention to Alice, his voice smooth and deliberate. "Miss Alice, what are your hobbies?"
The question caught Alice off guard, but she rose swiftly, her practiced poise snapping into place. "Your Highness, I enjoy reading books and listening to music," she recited, her voice sweetly modulated.
Evelyn's lips twitched. She pressed them tightly together, her shoulders trembling faintly with suppressed laughter. Reading? Music? Alice hadn't touched a book in years, and her idea of "music" was gossiping with her friends in Opera. The sheer audacity of the lie nearly undid her.
Herbert, ever eager to bolster his daughter's image, interjected, "Alice is also an excellent tea-maker!" Before Werner could respond, he clapped his hands. "Why not demonstrate for His Highness?"
Alice paled slightly but obeyed, hurrying off with a stiff smile.
As she bustled away, Werner's gaze flicked to Evelyn. "Miss Evelyn, how do you do?"
Evelyn dipped her head. "How do you do, Your Highness."
His acknowledgment was a mere nod—polite, perfunctory, utterly disinterested. Of course. Why would a prince spare attention for the overlooked daughter?
Meanwhile, Alice returned, balancing a delicate teacup with both hands. Her ornate gown, weighed down by its heavy hem, forced her to take mincing steps. She advanced with strained grace, but as she bent to offer the tea, the fabric tangled around her ankles.
A sharp gasp. A lurch.
Then—
Crash.
Alice sprawled forward, the tea arcing through the air before splashing across Werner's lap.
Silence.
Then—
"Your Highness—!"
Tanya was the first to react. In a flash, she darted in front of Werner, her hands fluttering over the spilled tea, dabbing at the stains with frantic precision. "Are you burned? Does it hurt?" she fretted, her voice tight with concern.
The room froze.
Though the Campbell family was equally worried about Werner's well-being, Tanya's urgency—her intimate, near-proprietary attention—raised eyebrows. Mrs. Cassie's gaze sharpened, lingering on the way the maid's fingers brushed over the prince's clothes with practiced familiarity.
Werner caught Tanya's wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. "Enough, Tanya," he murmured, just loud enough for the others to hear. "You'll make our hosts think you've forgotten your place."
Tanya stiffened. Realizing her overstep, she scrambled back and dipped into a hasty curtsy. "Forgive me, Lord Campbell," she said, her voice laced with performative remorse. "But if King Winfred learned I neglected His Highness's care, I'd face severe punishment."
Herbert waved a magnanimous hand, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Think nothing of it! The fault lies with Alice." He turned to his daughter, voice hardening. "Escort His Highness to the guest chamber at once so he may change."
Werner chuckled, clapping Herbert on the shoulder. "Herbert, my first visit and I'm already undressing in your home. Fate must truly intend us to be family."
The jest loosened the tension—for everyone but Alice. Still stranded on the floor, her cumbersome skirts pooled around her like a trapped bird's wings. Without her maid's aid, rising gracefully was impossible, yet calling for help would only compound her humiliation.
Evelyn watched, silent, as Alice's cheeks burned crimson. Then, with deliberate steps, she moved between her sister and the room's prying eyes. "Father," she interjected smoothly, "let me take His Highness instead. Alice's gown will hinder her on the stairs."
Herbert's jaw twitched as he glanced at his favorite daughter. For a heartbeat, frustration flickered across his face—but practicality won. "Very well," he conceded.
With that, Evelyn led Werner and Tanya away, leaving Alice stranded in the wreckage of her own performance.
Tanya cradled the fresh set of trousers in her arms, offering Evelyn a practiced curtsy. "Miss Evelyn, thank you for your assistance," she said, her voice smooth as silk, though her eyes lingered just a moment too long—assessing, calculating.
Evelyn returned the gesture with flawless courtesy, her smile never wavering. "Of course. It's only proper."
Only then did Werner deign to meet Evelyn's gaze directly. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet it carried the weight of command. "Miss Evelyn, I believe my leg may have been scalded. Tanya will need to apply a salve, so you'll have to wait a while longer."
The implication hung in the air—You are dismissed, but not excused.
Evelyn dipped her head, her tone perfectly deferential. "Take all the time you require, Your Highness."
Werner's lips quirked faintly, as if amused by her unwavering composure. Without another word, he turned, and Tanya followed him into the room, the door clicking shut behind them with deliberate finality.
Evelyn folded her hands neatly at her waist and waited.
After all, patience was a virtue—and Evelyn had long mastered the art of this.