Page 9 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
“Do you enjoy such a delicacy, Lady Charity?” William continued, leaning back in his chair, a casual arm draped over the back of it as his gaze held hers. His eyes gleamed with a silent challenge and something that could be mistaken for interest.
A nervous giggle escaped Lady Charity’s lips. “Yes, My Lord, I do enjoy a well-prepared trout.”
His flirtatious banter with Lady Charity echoed through the grand dining room, punctuated by the clinking of cutlery and the soft rustling of silk. The succulent aroma of roast beef, the light citrus notes of the accompanying sauce, and the rich creaminess of the duchesse potatoes all served to enhance the sensory experience of the moment, each bite a symphony of flavors that seemed to ebb and flow with the rise and fall of their conversation.
He glanced at Eris from the corner of his eye, registering her reaction, the slight narrowing of her eyes, and the tight set of her lips. Yes, this would indeed make his intentions — or lack thereof — clear.
After dinner, away from prying eyes, William caught his brother’s arm. “Cassian, you need to stay away from Miss Eris. Something is not right about her.”
“Why? Do you think I am such an innocent that I cannot engage in conversation with a lovely and interesting young lady without making a fool of myself?” Cassian shrugged him off, a determined glint in his eye. “William, relax, since when have I ever backed down from a challenge? And Miss Eris is definitely a challenge.”
William shook his head, watching Cassian’s retreating figure. His brother was stubborn, that was certain, but William could not shake off the unsettling feeling that Eris Saffron was more trouble than she was worth. The worst part was that he found himself inexplicably drawn to her, much to his own chagrin.
With dinner concluded, the grand room was soon abuzz with laughter and conversation. Servants flitted about, clearing the tables while guests gravitated toward the more enjoyable portion of the evening. Ladies retreated to one side of the room, their skirts rustling as they indulged in a game of cards. Gentlemen huddled together in another corner, discussing matters of politics and sport.
William, however, found himself in a less fortunate circumstance. He had been cornered by Lady Fitzwilliam, an overly enthusiastic woman whose only daughter, Marianne, was among the eligible maidens vying for his attention.
“Why, Lord Thornhill!” she trilled, her fan fluttering with a frenetic energy that mirrored her excitement. “My Marianne has been most looking forward to this evening. She finds your estate most charming.”
Charming. The word was spoken with such emphasis as if it were some secret code. William resisted the urge to rub his temples. Instead, he plastered on a polite smile, his gaze wandering toward the cluster of ladies by the card table.
“Yes, it is quite the place,” he said, hoping the noncommittal response would discourage further questioning, but Lady Fitzwilliam was not to be so easily deterred.
“My Marianne is quite fond of roses, you know. She was absolutely delighted to see your gardens. Do you tend to them yourself?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
William almost choked on his wine. He, tending to the gardens? The image was so ridiculous, he had to bite back a chuckle.
“Alas, Lady Fitzwilliam, my duties as the Earl tend to keep me from such pursuits,” he managed to reply, hoping the polite, albeit distant, response would encourage her to move onto the next subject.
However, Lady Fitzwilliam only clapped her hands together in delight, not noticing or perhaps choosing to ignore the subtle hints William was giving. “Oh, how wonderful! A man of duty. I do so admire that in a gentleman. My Marianne does too, you know…”
William excused himself from the eager woman as tactfully as he could, leaving her with a polite nod. He retreated to the safety of the men’s corner, casting a glance back at the chattering woman. As her enthusiastic conversation trailed off into the din of the crowd, William could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. It seemed that surviving the evening was turning into quite the feat.
Just as the last words of Lady Fitzwilliam’s registered in William’s mind, he felt a familiar presence at his side. His own mother, Lady Hudson, was a force of nature when she decided something must be done.
“William,” she murmured, her tone taking on that strategic quality he knew all too well, “Lady Eastwick and Lady Charity have requested your company. They are quite eager to speak with you.”
His gaze instinctively followed hers to where the Eastwicks were situated, mother and daughter looking at him expectantly, and Charity Eastwick fluttering her fan in an obvious show of interest.
He felt a sudden resistance against the obligation. He knew his duty. William was aware of the beneficial alliance the Eastwicks represented. Yet as he turned to look back at Eris, her eyes locked onto his. They were wide and clear, a vibrant mix of emotions within them that seemed to taunt him. He found himself rooted to the spot, an inexplicable pull keeping him there.
“Oh, and William,” his mother’s voice cut through his thoughts, making him snap back toward her. The look on her face, one he knew all too well, held all the expectations she had for him. He could not let her down. “Do try not to disappoint.”
With a heavy heart, he nodded and left Lady Blackwell and Eris behind. However, as he made his way toward the Eastwicks, he could not help but feel a pang of regret. The echo of Eris’ laugh in his ear and the feel of her lips on his, still fresh in his memory, created a tumult of emotions that left him questioning his priorities.
Why does the notion of marrying Charity Eastwick feel more like a life sentence than an opportunity? And why can’t I keep my mind off of Miss Eris?
And then there was the fear, buried deep but always present, the fear of loss. The memory of his father’s demise was still fresh, like an old wound that refused to fully heal. With marriage and potential offspring came the danger of further losses. The fear of losing a wife, a child… the mere thought sent shivers of dread down his spine. The stinging reality of his responsibilities as the Earl of Thornhill seemed to strangle him, restricting him, leaving no room to breathe.
At that moment, William realized the fortnight was only just beginning, and already, it had taken a surprising turn. The seeds of an internal conflict had been sown — one that he knew was about to make his life a lot more complicated.
* * *
Eris watched as William’s form retreated from her side, making his way toward Charity Eastwick. Despite herself, she admired the way the navy-blue coat of his attire hugged his broad shoulders, tapering down to his slender waist. A frisson of attraction fluttered in her chest which she swiftly suppressed. The man was insufferable, an arrogant lord with a rakish reputation. She reminded herself that he was the last person she would ever want to have any dealings with.
“Must you always be so uncooperative, Eris?” her mother hissed, pulling her back from her unbidden thoughts. “We had the undivided interest of the Earl of Thornhill, and you managed to barely speak a word to him.”
“I cannot feign an interest I do not have, mother,” Eris retorted, meeting her mother’s stern gaze with a defiant one of her own. “I will not entertain the idea of a marriage of convenience. It is just not me.”
