Page 49 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
“Lovely evening, Thornhill,” a passing gentleman commented.
“Indeed,” William replied, his gaze never straying far from Eris.
“Lord Thornhill, your mother looked well the last time I saw her,” a lady fluttered her fan coyly.
“I am glad you think so, Lady Worthington,” he responded although he had not fully listened to her. She gave him a polite yet confused smile.
As he moved through the throng, his attention was half on the people he was conversing with and half on Eris, her radiant presence pulling him like a magnet.
His gaze continued to rove the crowd until finally, their eyes met. Eris’ cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of rose, and for a moment, there was a deep sadness in her eyes, an emotion he could not quite place. As if he had disturbed her in a private moment, she quickly averted her gaze and excused herself from the conversation with the Viscount.
A pang of confusion and concern struck William. His heart skipped a beat, and ignoring the throng, he began to make his way toward her. However, his journey was abruptly halted.
“Lord Thornhill,” an authoritative voice called out, the tone too familiar.
He turned to see Lady Portington, an aging matron known for her overbearing nature and determination to marry off her six daughters. She swept toward him, her voluminous maroon gown swishing against the polished marble floor.
“Ah, Lady Portington,” he greeted, putting on his most polite smile, “always a pleasure.”
“And a delight, Thornhill,” she cooed, a calculating gleam in her eye. “I must introduce you to my daughter, Lady Cecilia. A fine young woman, just seventeen and quite the accomplished pianoforte player.”
“Indeed, how delightful,” William replied, masking his impatience. He exchanged pleasantries with Cecilia, nodded at the right intervals, and threw in a compliment about her reputed skills.
Finally, managing to extricate himself from the conversation, he turned his attention back to where Eris had been, but to his disappointment, the chair was now vacant. Eris was gone, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of his stomach.
Spotting Lady Felicity at a nearby table, William approached her with a pleasant smile. Felicity was a welcome sight. An intelligent and charming woman, they had shared several interesting conversations at the party he had hosted, and he knew she was not part of the clamoring flock of hopeful debutantes.
“Ah, Lord Thornhill,” Lady Felicity greeted him warmly, her blue eyes twinkling under the soft glow of the chandeliers.
“Lady Felicity,” he nodded, appreciating her gentle demeanor in the midst of the frenzy. They exchanged a few pleasantries, discussing the magnificence of the Duchess’ ball and the latest news from London society.
However, it was not long before William tactfully steered the conversation toward Eris. Lady Felicity, understanding his intentions, responded with a knowing smile. “You are looking for Miss Eris, I presume?”
At his nod, she pointed her delicate lace fan toward the ballroom floor. “I believe she is engaged in the Quadrille with Viscount Sinclair.”
Turning his gaze toward the dance floor, William’s heart clenched at the sight of Eris, her hand in the notorious rake’s, her face plastered with a polite smile as they danced the Quadrille.
Viscount Sinclair was not an ideal match for Eris, and the man’s reputation left much to be desired. Yet, his family was well off, an enticing prospect for the financially strained Saffron family.
Observing Eris’ parents, their faces alight with satisfaction, William felt a knot of disgust tighten in his stomach. The thought of Eris being bartered off like some property, particularly to a man of Sinclair’s caliber, was unbearable. A mix of emotions — horror, sadness, and seething anger — consumed him. He knew he had to do something, but what, he was uncertain.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
The crowded ballroom swirled around Eris, a whirlwind of satin and laughter, of promises made and hearts broken. Yet, she was trapped in the calm at the center, her hands resting lightly on Viscount Sinclair’s shoulders as they moved in step with the rhythmic strains of the quadrille.
“My dear Miss Eris,” Sinclair began, his voice low and persuasive, “I must confess that your radiant beauty has captured my attention since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
His words were the same that many others had whispered into the ears of young debutantes, but his tone, warm and earnest, gave them a sincerity that many lacked. Eris focused on his words, willing herself to believe in them, even as her heart cried out for someone else.
“Your words are too kind, My Lord,” Eris replied, forcing a smile to her lips. The corners of Sinclair’s mouth twitched upward in delight. Eris’ heart throbbed painfully in her chest, each beat a silent plea for forgiveness from the man she truly loved.
Her eyes flickered to the side, and she caught a glimpse of William in conversation with Lady Felicity. Her heart sank as she imagined him bestowing his affections on the lovely lady. She quickly squashed the flare of jealousy that shot through her. It was, after all, what she wanted. If she was to secure her family’s future, she had to distance herself from William. She had to make him believe she was content, happy even, with Viscount Sinclair.It is for both our sakes…
“Tell me, My Lord,” she said, turning her attention back to Sinclair and pressing a delicate hand to his chest in a flirty gesture, “do you enjoy the thrill of the hunt? The chase of courtship?”
His eyes gleamed, their deep blue hue sparkling with interest. “There is no thrill greater than the pursuit of a beautiful and intriguing woman, Miss Eris.”
His reply felt like a challenge. A gauntlet was thrown at her feet. Eris responded with a demure smile, playing her part perfectly. “Then, My Lord, I dare say the game is afoot.”
