Page 20 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
“Dowager Countess!” Sir Percival bellowed, his round face beaming as he maneuvered through the crowd, knocking a poorly placed servant with a tray of champagne flutes in his zealous pursuit. The man teetered, clutching onto the tray to save the glasses from a disastrous fate. Sir Percival obliviously carried on, his rosy cheeks glowing with anticipation.
As Sir Percival approached, his mother cast a wide-eyed look of horror toward William. He stifled a laugh, seeing her squirm under the relentless attention of Sir Percival, her usual grace replaced with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.
“William!” she hissed, her hand tightening around her fan, “do something!”
“I beg your pardon, Mother, but it’s rather unlike me to interfere in courtship matters, is it not?” he retorted, amusement curling his lips.
“But this is different!” she argued, desperation ringing in her voice. “I —”
“Why, Dowager Countess!” Sir Percival boomed, his beady eyes twinkling with delight as he took her hand, placing a sloppy kiss on the back of her gloved hand. “How ravishing you look today! The sun itself pales in your radiance.”
The Dowager Countess stiffened, a forced smile playing on her lips. “Why, thank you, Sir Percival. You’re as… expressive as ever.”
“Oh, indeed! And what could be more poetic than expressing my admiration for such a fine lady?” Sir Percival gushed, completely oblivious to the Dowager Countess’s discomfort. His daughter, Beatrix, looked aghast at her father’s behavior, her freckles standing out in her pale face.
The whole spectacle drew a chuckle from the onlookers, William included. However, his amusement was tainted with the shadow of the midnight meeting, the thought of which refused to leave him, even amidst the absurdity playing out in front of him.
Before he could enjoy the comedic relief for too long, a light touch on his arm made him turn. Charity Eastwick, with her cherubic face and cloud of blonde curls, stood next to him, an arrow awkwardly clutched in her dainty hand.
“Oh, Lord Thornhill,” she said, her doe eyes widening with feigned innocence, “I am afraid I am quite hopeless with this... this thing.” She gestured to the bow and arrow with a delicate shudder.
He found himself giving her a tight-lipped smile, all the while shooting a pleading look at his mother, who only raised her eyebrows in response, clearly unimpressed.
“Perhaps you could show me how to aim, Lord Thornhill?” Charity batted her lashes at him, a rosy blush staining her cheeks.
With a sigh of resignation, he moved to stand behind her, positioning her hands on the bow. His mind, however, was far from the task at hand. The image of Eris flashed in his mind — her keen eyes, her sharp tongue, the way she seemed to challenge him without even trying. As he instructed Charity on the correct stance, his thoughts wandered to the midnight meeting and what revelations it might bring.
In the midst of the lesson, Charity giggled, her arrow flying wide and landing in a bush some distance away. She turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh, how dreadfully embarrassing! I suppose I am not cut out for such sporting activities although I enjoy horseback riding very much.”
At that moment, William was acutely aware of how different Charity was from Eris. She was delicate and dainty while Eris was bold and unpredictable. He found himself drawn to the latter’s fiery spirit, a realization that startled him.
The rest of the afternoon seemed to drag on as he indulged Charity’s requests. He found her company pleasant but unexciting. The thought of a lifetime of such bland conversations made him grimace inwardly. If he were to die of boredom, where would that leave the Earldom?
As the guests started to gather for pre-dinner drinks, William finally spotted Eris again. Cassian was at her side, his arm brushing hers as they conversed. The sight set his jaw on edge, his fingers tightening around the stem of his wine glass. He wanted to catch her eye, to see some hint of acknowledgment, but each time he tried, she was engaged in conversation.
“Cassian certainly seems taken with Miss Eris,” came a voice beside him. His mother’s sharp eyes were trained on the pair as well.
Before he could formulate a response, his mother was tugging at his sleeve. “It’s time to escort Lady Charity to dinner, William. Duty calls.”
“Duty,” he echoed with a forced smile, downing the remaining contents of his glass.
His mother arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing more as she released his arm, leaving him to do his obligation.
With one last look toward Eris, he turned to find Charity. She was fluttering around the edges of the room, looking lost and a little out of place amidst the boisterous crowd.
“Lady Charity,” he greeted, bowing slightly and offering his arm, “may I escort you to dinner?”
Charity blushed and accepted his arm with a shy smile. “I would be delighted, Lord Thornhill.”
As they walked, he stole a glance back at Eris and Cassian. They were still engrossed in their conversation, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. A sharp pang of something he could not quite name surged through him. Was it jealousy? Annoyance?
“No,” he muttered to himself, firmly pushing the feeling away. He needed to stay focused, and feelings, whatever they were, had no place in his plans. He was an Earl, duty-bound and honor-bound to do what was best for his family and estate.
His grip on Charity’s arm tightened slightly as they entered the dining hall. Tonight, he would play his part well.
The dining hall echoed with the clatter of silverware against china and a low hum of conversation. Seated between Lady Charity and Lady Felicity Patterson, the Marquess’ second daughter, William tried to navigate the evening as smoothly as he could.
“Marquess Patterson’s daughter, I presume?” He turned to Felicity, making conversation as he picked at the slices of a roast pheasant on his plate.
