Page 5 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
Nanette’s voice brought her back to the present. “There, all done, Miss Eris,” she said, stepping back to survey her work. Eris stood and examined her reflection in the mirror. Her curls were now neatly pinned up, and her blue eyes shone brighter against the backdrop of her dark hair.
She took a deep breath, her hands smoothing over the bodice of her gown. Eris had a part to play, and as much as the thought of facing the Earl again filled her with dread, she knew what she had to do. She had to protect her family and protect Lily.
With one last look at her reflection, she squared her shoulders and steeled herself. She would face the Earl and the other guests. She would do what was expected of her. And she would do it with dignity.
“Let’s go, Nanette,” she said, determination drawing up her spine. “I have a dinner to attend.”
ChapterFour
Seated behind the heavy oak desk, William found his eyes drawn to the crisp numbers and neat lines of the estate’s ledgers. It was a task he had done hundreds of times, one that usually offered comfort in its familiarity, but tonight it provided no such respite.
His mind was elsewhere, straying back to the tempest of a woman who had invaded his study.Miss Eris Saffron. Her name rolled off his tongue like a prayer he did not intend to recite, yet he found himself doing so anyway. He could still taste the sweetness of her lips against his, a sweetness that was intoxicating and maddening in equal measure. Her loosened stays had revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her curvaceous figure, her form fitting like a piece of a puzzle he had not known was missing.
But it was not her physical allure that haunted him, it was the fire in her eyes. A fire that burned brighter when provoked. She was a challenge, a whirlwind of fiery spirit that both intrigued and frustrated him. He let out a huff of breath, the cool air doing nothing to quell the heat that his thoughts stirred within him.
His mother’s well-intentioned meddling had put him in this position, cornered with no obvious escape. Though he knew she meant well, her actions irked him. She was playing with his life, his future, as though it were a mere chess piece. He was the Earl. He was supposed to be the one making decisions, not a puppet to the whims of his mother or the expectations of society.
In a fit of frustration, he slammed the ledger shut, the echo reverberating in the empty study. His fingers drummed a restless beat on the polished wood of the desk.
Inhaling deeply, he stood, glancing one last time at the now-closed ledger. Perhaps he was being ungrateful, but his life was not a mere game to be played at his mother’s convenience. He had his own dreams, his own wishes, and he was not ready to give them up. Not yet.
With a last sigh, he left the study and made his way up to his chambers to dress. If he had to play along with his mother’s charade, he might as well do it looking his best. And, just perhaps, he would glimpse the enchanting Miss Eris again.
In his spacious bedchamber, William stood with his valet, Bartholomew. The man had been with him since he was a lad and had seen him through everything from scraped knees to heartbreaks. Now he was tasked with the responsibility of helping William prepare for the night’s soiree.
“I thought you might like this one, My Lord,” Bartholomew offered, his voice a calm constant in the flurry of preparation. “It contrasts with your eyes and complements your hair quite well. The eligible young women will swoon at the sight of you.”
His words were meant as a polite compliment, but they made William more aware of his appearance than he had ever been before. His black hair, usually left in a casual, disheveled state, was slicked back, revealing the sharp angles of his face. The emerald green of his eyes, a trait he had inherited from his father, seemed more vibrant against the contrasting midnight blue of the coat.
Stepping in front of the full-length mirror, William ran his fingers down the lapels of the coat. He had to admit that he looked rather sharp. The shadow of a smile flickered across his lips as he gave a satisfied nod to Bartholomew. “Well, if I am to be paraded like a prized stallion, I might as well look the part.”
The quip earned him a chuckle from the valet. “Aye, My Lord. You certainly cut a fine figure.”
With a last pat on the shoulder and a satisfied nod, Bartholomew left the room, leaving William alone with his thoughts. A final look in the mirror, a last tightening of the cravat, and he was ready to face the evening — and Miss Eris.
Descending the grand staircase into the bustling hall below, the room was filled with a myriad of colors as the cream of the ton milled around, engrossed in their chatter. A slight curl of amusement graced his lips as he took in the scene. His mother certainly had left no stone unturned in her quest to find him a bride. She had even invited the Duke and Duchess of Eastwick, a couple known for their powerful influence within society.
Spotting Cassian across the room, he made his way toward him, his brows furrowing as he noticed the wide grin on his brother’s face.
“Cassian, who has caught your eye?” he asked, following his brother’s gaze to find Eris. The sight of her, radiant and full of life, sent a pang through him.
“There she is, Miss Eris. The one I told you about.”
“Cassian,” he tried again, “remember, not all that glitters is gold. You should be careful.”
“William,” Cassian countered, “she is not like the others. I can feel it.” His tone was uncharacteristically serious. The sight of his brother, so smitten, filled him with a strange sense of dread.
Forcing a smile, William patted his brother on the shoulder, saying, “We will see,” before leaving him to join Viscount Harlington and his family. His gaze lingered on Eris for a moment too long before he turned his attention to the Viscount.
“Viscount Harlington, Viscountess Harlington,” he greeted, taking in their three daughters, all dressed in elaborate gowns and looking slightly overawed by the grandeur of the occasion. Their polite curtsies, the sound of their nervous giggles. Everything seemed a world away from the storm that was brewing inside him.
Throughout the evening, William greeted the other guests, exchanged pleasantries, and offered compliments where due, but his thoughts kept returning to Eris. Each time he spotted her and Cassian, the guilt gnawed deeper. His responsibility as an older brother warred with the memories of their encounter in the study and the growing curiosity that she sparked within him.
His duties as host carried him through the ballroom. He found himself nodding to Duchess Patterson’s comments about the weather, smiling politely at the young Miss Havisham who was only recently out and seemed overwhelmed by the entire affair, and enduring the coy flirtations of Lady Everidge, a seasoned debutante who had had a couple of seasons and was known to be on the hunt for a title.
Then there was Miss Beatrix Fairchild, the newly debuted daughter of the widowed Sir Percival Fairchild. Eager to impress, she launched into a fervent analysis of Voltaire’s Candide, her eyes — magnified greatly by the round spectacles perched on her nose — almost bulging with enthusiasm. Her disheveled bun and generous sprinkling of freckles only added to the endearing, if rather comical, scene.
“Don’t you agree, Lord Thornhill?” she asked, her teeth — slightly more prominent than was fashionable — clicking together as she spoke. Her bright eyes were brimming with expectation, her hands fluttering about like birds trapped in a cage.
