Page 51 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
Eris’ parents, instead of leaping to their eldest daughter’s defense, reacted with a chilling detachment. Their faces hardened into masks of disappointment and disapproval. Viscount Blackwell’s voice rang out clear and cold over the silence. “Lily ceased being our daughter when she made her choices,” he pronounced, his gaze filled with a steely indifference directed at his pregnant daughter. His wife, the Viscountess, stood by his side, her jaw set, and her silence lending weight to her husband’s words.
Eris watched as her sister, the usually vivacious Lily, shrank under the harsh words of their father, a flicker of hurt visible in her eyes before it was swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. Despite everything, Lily held her head high, standing strong against the storm of public condemnation.
Seething with indignation and humiliation, Eris stepped forward. Her heart pounded in her chest as she met her father’s venomous gaze. William moved swiftly across the floor to her side.
“How dare you!” Eris shouted, her voice ringing throughout the silent ballroom. “She is your daughter. My sister. You may choose to disown her, but I will not. I will not stand by while you tarnish her reputation without a word of defense.”
A collective gasp echoed through the room as Eris defended Lily. Her father’s expression twisted into a mask of rage. As he took a step toward Eris, William intervened, his eyes flashing with determination.
“I suggest you take this matter outside, Viscount,” William interjected, his voice firm yet respectful.
Viscount Blackwell glared at William, his eyes smoldering. However, after a tense moment, he grudgingly retreated, leaving a room stunned into silence and a family torn apart.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
The air around them crackled with anger as William followed Viscount and Viscountess Blackwell into the moonlit gardens. Guests who lingered in the courtyard, catching the cool evening breeze or escaping the stifling heat of the crowded ballroom, scattered at the sight of his stormy countenance. The rustle of silken skirts and the shuffle of patent leather shoes faded into the background as the trio moved further away from the grand manor.
Cassian, unable to stand idly by, had followed them into the gardens, his face tight with anger. He was a mere shadow lurking in the background, every bit as much a part of the confrontation without uttering a word. Lily followed closely on his heels.
The moment they were out of earshot, the Viscount turned on William. “What the devil do you think you are doing, Thornhill?” He spat the name out as if it left a foul taste in his mouth, his eyes flashing with rage.
William, his anger boiling just under the surface, clenched his fists at his sides. “Defending your daughter’s honor when you would not!” he retorted, his voice as cold as ice.
The Viscount’s face turned beet-red, and his hands balled into fists. “That was not your place, Thornhill!” he barked. “This is a family matter!”
“A family matter?” William echoed incredulously, his voice rising. “You were trying to auction off your daughter to the highest bidder in front of all of London society. And you disowned your eldest daughter! Is that what you call a ‘family matter’, Blackwell?”
Viscount Blackwell recoiled as if he had been struck. “I will not be lectured on my responsibilities by the likes of you!” he snarled, his lips pulled back in a grimace.
William took a menacing step forward. “Someone needs to do it since you seem to have forgotten what it means to be a father.”
Behind him, Cassian moved out of the shadows, his eyes aflame with the same burning indignation as William’s. “And I will not stand by and let you defile Lily’s honor!” he shouted, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend Lily’s honor in the most traditional and bloody of ways.
At Cassian’s words, a soft rustling came from the side, drawing everyone’s attention. Lily, who had been silently observing the confrontation from a hidden corner, stepped forward, her eyes wide and fearful. “Cassian, no,” she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper, but it cut through the escalating tension like a knife.
Her father scoffed, looking at her as if she was an unwelcome interruption. “You have no place here, girl. You have caused enough trouble.”
The cruel words seemed to physically strike Lily, but it was Cassian whose reaction was most palpable. He stepped forward, placing himself protectively in front of Lily. “You dare to speak to your daughter in such a way?” His voice was deadly calm, but his eyes were blazing with unspoken fury. “Lily is kind, gentle, loving — a flower blooming in spite of the harsh conditions you’ve subjected her to.”
He turned to Lily, taking her hand in his, his voice softening. “You are so much more than what they see, Lily. You’re a woman of strength and resilience. You have a heart of gold and a spirit that refuses to be broken.” His gaze held hers, unwavering, as he declared, “And that is why you are precious. Not because of your status, not because of your family, but because of who you are.”
Lily, tears brimming in her eyes, gave Cassian a tremulous smile. Turning back to face Viscount Blackwell, Cassian’s voice echoed through the garden, carrying a challenge as much as a pledge. “And I will fight anyone, even a scoundrel of a father, who dares to besmirch your honor, Lily.” His gaze didn’t waver from the Viscount’s, his resolve clear. “Even if it means crossing swords in a duel.”
As Cassian’s impassioned speech hung in the air, a silence settled over the moonlit garden. The tension was palpable. Every gaze turned toward Viscount Blackwell, waiting for his reaction. But amidst the turmoil, William felt a sudden shift as if an internal compass had subtly adjusted its alignment. His attention drifted, unbidden, from the spectacle before him to Eris. She stood to one side, her beautiful face pale and drawn. Her eyes, normally so full of life, were dull and filled with an overwhelming sadness. The sight of her in such distress was a stab to his heart, fueling his rage against her father.
“You have no right,” Viscount Blackwell spat out, his words punctuated by the heavy thump of his cane against the cobblestone path.
“But I do,” William countered, his voice a low growl. “Because unlike you, my brother and I actually care for your daughters. I will not stand by and watch you ruin their lives.”
Their words hung in the air, the heated argument echoing through the hushed garden, a stark contrast to the sounds of laughter and music that wafted from the grand manor in the distance.
Eris stepped forward then, her cool hand landing gently on William’s forearm. At her touch, his anger ebbed slightly, replaced by a calming warmth. He clasped her hand in his own, their fingers intertwining naturally.
Turning back to the fuming Viscount Blackwell, he took a deep breath, his tone calm but resolute. “Your daughter, Eris,” he said, his gaze flicking momentarily to her, “is a woman of remarkable beauty and unmatched talent. She possesses a spirit as fierce as a lioness, a mind as sharp as a diamond, and a heart as warm and generous as the summer sun.”
His voice held a note of reverence as he continued. “She deserves more than to be bartered off like some piece of property. She deserves a life filled with love and laughter, not one bound by convenience and financial necessity. Eris is deserving of the world, and you, sir, would offer her up to the highest bidder, blind to the true value of what you possess.”
His grip tightened on Eris’ hand as he finished, a clear note of defiance in his voice. “She is not an asset to be traded but a woman to be cherished. A fact you seem to have forgotten in your desperation.”
