Page 32 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
“I will, Mother. I promise,” Cassian replied, embracing her gently.
As the farewells came to an end, William noted a conspicuous absence. Eris was nowhere to be seen. His gaze flicked around the courtyard, but she was not among the ladies. He felt a strange twinge of disappointment which he quickly pushed aside. It mattered little, he told himself. Yet, the thought of her lingered, like a ghost refusing to be banished.
Resolved to find Eris, William made his way to the drawing-room where he found Viscountess Blackwell, Eris’ mother, elegantly perched on a chaise, engrossed in her embroidery. She looked up as he entered, her eyes gleaming with a spark of interest that set William on edge. He knew that look — it was the look of a strategist, a chess player maneuvering her pieces on the board.
“Viscountess Blackwell,” he greeted, a polite smile fixed on his face. “May I join you?”
“Of course, Lord Thornhill. I am always pleased for your company,” she replied, her voice as smooth as silk, her smile honeyed.
He took a seat across from her, choosing his words carefully. “I was hoping you might know where Miss Eris is.”
Viscountess Blackwell placed her embroidery in her lap, regarding him with an unreadable expression. “Why, I believe Eris is in the garden. She finds peace amidst the flowers.”
“Viscountess Blackwell,” William started, his voice holding a deceptive calm, “I cannot help but observe the unusual enthusiasm with which you and Viscount Blackwell are pursuing matrimonial prospects for your younger daughter. It is quite out of the ordinary, considering your elder daughter still remains unwed.”
His words hung in the air, a veiled hint of his understanding of their desperate endeavors. The hint that he knew they were ready to hazard Miss Eris’ reputation in order to secure an advantageous match. His gaze bore into hers, his expression unyielding. “Traditionally, I believe, the eldest daughter’s hand is sought first. One might wonder if there is some urgent need driving this departure from convention…”
Her eyes widened fractionally, just enough for him to notice. It was a testament to her experience in the intricate dance of high society that her surprise was so well contained. “I beg your pardon, Lord Thornhill?” she asked, her voice cool, but there was a slight tremor that betrayed her nerves.
He pressed on, the hint of a cold smile on his lips. “Oh, it’s just that certain circumstances, they make one wonder. A young, eligible woman like Miss Eris has many qualities that would attract suitors. She requires no contrivances or schemes to capture a man’s attention.”
There was a pause, a moment of stunned silence as the Viscountess processed his words. He saw her lips part, then close, a blush creeping up her neck. It was not often that someone had the audacity to confront her, and clearly, she had not expected this from him.
“Now, if you will excuse me, Viscountess,” he concluded, pushing himself to his feet, “I think I will find Miss Eris in the garden. She does have such an affinity for things that require patience and care.”
With a curt nod, he exited the drawing room, leaving a flustered Viscountess behind, her carefully laid plans suddenly unraveling.
Feeling like he had just navigated a minefield, William stepped outside into the fresh air, finding it invigorating. The carefully manicured gardens of Thornhill Castle lay before him, beautiful in their calm serenity. He ventured toward the rose bushes where he had seen Eris during their garden tour, hoping to find her there.
“Miss Eris?” he called softly, looking around. There was no answer.
Approaching the toolshed, he saw the figure of Mr. Travers, the head gardener, a large sunhat shielding his face as he busied himself with his tasks.
“Mr. Travers, good day to you,” William greeted, giving a curt nod.
“Lord Thornhill!” the gardener turned, surprise lining his face. “A fine day it is, M’Lord.”
“I was looking for Miss Eris. Would you happen to know where she is?”
Mr. Travers removed his hat, scratching his head thoughtfully. “Miss Eris, you say? Well, she was here not too long ago. But there were talks of a shower, and she and the rest went inside, didn’t want to catch a chill, I suppose.”
As if on cue, a rumble echoed in the distance, and the sky was split with a bright streak of lightning, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Dark, menacing clouds had begun to roll in, a stark contrast to the bright blue skies of just moments ago.
William looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, feeling a chill run down his spine that had little to do with the impending storm.
“So much for finding Eris,” he murmured under his breath.
With a sigh, he thanked Mr. Travers and made his way back toward the castle. A part of him felt disappointed, thwarted in his intention of seeking out Eris. But another part, the part that remembered his duty, his responsibilities, and the encounter with Viscountess Blackwell, silently admitted that perhaps it was for the best.
His boots crunched against the gravel path as he walked, the looming storm a fitting backdrop to his conflicting emotions. With one last look at the garden, now deserted and awaiting the incoming storm, he pushed the heavy castle doors open and stepped back inside
As he approached the castle, he saw a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Looking up, he found himself staring at a figure in the window. Eris. She was safe inside, her face illuminated by the soft light from the room behind her. A jolt of relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a familiar ache of longing. He quickened his pace, eager to find her before the confines of societal norms ripped away the chance.
He entered the castle, shedding his coat and shaking off the cold. Moving toward the drawing room, he found the ladies of the house gathered, absorbed in some activity. He spotted Eris among them, Felicity and Charity flanking her, all engrossed in a lively game of charades, a popular form of entertainment among women of their standing in 1825 England.
“Miss Eris,” he began, intending to pull her aside for a brief exchange, but Felicity immediately intercepted, insistently tugging Eris back into their game.
“Oh, Lord Thornhill, do join us,” Felicity chimed in. “Eris was just about to enact a particularly challenging title.”
