Page 30 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
“Indeed, Sir Percival,” Eris said, trying her best to sound intrigued. “Would you care to share this poem with me?”
“Well, if you insist, Miss Eris,” he said, blushing slightly as he cleared his throat. “Ahem. To the Dowager Countess, she of resplendent beauty, her visage fairer than a midsummer’s dawn. As vibrant as the sunflower, as delicate as the lily, as enchanting as the rose in full bloom.”
Eris could feel the corners of her mouth twitching in a suppressed smile, but she valiantly kept her expression neutral.
“Her eyes,” Sir Percival continued, his voice swelling with passion, “are like twin dew-kissed violets, shimmering under the soft caress of the morning sun. Her voice, a melody sweeter than the lilting tunes of the nightingale, does stir in me a fervor more potent than the heady scent of the gardenia under the moonlight.”
His words rolled on, a river of flowery praise that was more of a botanical catalog than a heartfelt ode. Eris swallowed a laugh, pressing a hand to her lips as if contemplating his words deeply. She offered him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to stumble toward the conclusion of his poetic venture.
“And so, like the humble bee drawn to the intoxicating allure of the blossoming hibiscus, I, too, am ensnared by her bewitching charm, yearning for but a taste of the nectar of her affection.”
Eris could hold back no longer. A delicate snort of laughter escaped her lips as she hastily turned it into a cough. “Why, Sir Percival, such a moving botanical tribute to the Dowager Countess. I am sure she would be most moved.”
“Thank you.” Sir Percival’s chest puffed out, and he inclined his head. “You are most kind, Miss Eris.”
“Sir Percival,” she began, her voice barely hiding her amusement, “perhaps I could assist you in crafting your poem? I have spent much time in gardens, after all.”
He smiled at her, shaking his head. “Thank you, Miss Eris,” he said gently, “but I believe a poem should come from one’s own heart. Even if that heart is not quite inclined toward the poetic.”
She was about to excuse herself from the conversation when she saw the forlorn look on the man’s face. He was clearly lonely, and what cost were a few words born from kindness?
“And tell me, Sir Percival, how do you find life after marriage? Your late wife, she was —”
A shadow passed over Sir Percival’s face. “She was a lady of great respectability. Our marriage was an arrangement between families as is often the case. I cannot say it was a happy union. We were two stones rubbing against each other, creating sparks but never a warm flame.”
Eris fell silent, her mind turning his words over. “That sounds lonely.”
Sir Percival sighed, “Yes, it was, but now, I wish to remarry for love, for companionship. It is a lesson, Miss Eris, one I wish to impart to you. Marry for love. Only love can make a house a home, a partner a confidante.”
His words hung in the air, heavy and profound. Eris felt a twinge of sadness, her thoughts wandering to her own predicament. Could she marry for love as Sir Percival suggested? Her heart fluttered, the memory of William’s kiss surfacing unbidden, and with it, the dangerous temptation that promised both the sweetness of love and the risk of ruin.
If only that was possible for me…
ChapterEighteen
As the sun rose on the next morning, a streak of light dancing across the verdant landscape, the Thornhill brothers were already atop their horses, ready for their early morning ride before Cassian’s departure later that day. The morning mist was slowly lifting off the meadows, and the air was filled with the scent of dewy grass and the faint sound of songbirds.
“I can’t help but say, Will,” Cassian began, a lighthearted tone to his voice, “I have received quite a delightful letter back from Miss Lily Saffron.”
“Lily Saffron?” William repeated, his grip on the reins tightening out of surprise. He turned to look at his brother, confusion etched on his face. “She’s written back to you?”
Cassian merely shrugged, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smug grin. “Indeed. This is the first time she’s responded,” he admitted, seemingly pleased. “I had sent her two letters out of curiosity after Eris mentioned her, and now, she’s finally responded. I must say, she has a rather engaging penmanship.”
“And?” William pressed, intrigued despite himself.
Cassian’s grin widened. “And she is rather enchanting, William. There’s a keen intellect and warmth in her letters that I find most appealing.”
William huffed, a chuckle escaping him. “I can’t believe you, Cassian. One moment, you’re bewitched by Miss Eris Saffron, and the next, her elder sister has caught your fancy.”
Cassian merely shrugged again, unabashed. “I have always admired intellect, William. And besides, Eris and I have… Well, we’ve never quite hit it off. And from her letters, Lily seems different in a way that draws me.”
William merely shook his head though a small smile played on his lips. “You’re fickle, Cassian. Beware, lest you court trouble.”
“Trouble,” Cassian replied, his grin unwavering, “has always been my most charming companion.”
As they urged their horses into a gallop, William was left mulling over his brother’s words. A feeling of unease had taken root in his chest, one he was struggling to identify. As his thoughts turned once more to Eris, he wished the fortnight was already over.
“William, I swear, you’ve become a curmudgeon since coming back to the castle,” Cassian teased, his eyes dancing with mirth. “All these lovely women, perfectly suited to become the next Countess, and you’ve snubbed them all.”
