Page 11 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
Once her mother had departed, her maid, Nanette, appeared with two carefully arranged gowns. She knew them by heart — one a soft blush pink adorned with intricate ivory lace, the other a deep royal blue with delicate pearl detailing along the collar and sleeves. Both were designed to flatter her, to present her in the best possible light to her prospective suitors.
Nanette, with a hopeful gleam in her eyes, held up both gowns for her mistress’ inspection. “Which one would you like to wear, Miss?”
Eris merely turned her head to the side, a weariness settling in her gaze. “What does it matter, Nanette?” she sighed. “I can’t choose the man I am to marry, the life I am to lead, or even the love I am allowed to feel. Why should choosing a dress be any different? I feel like flotsam adrift on the sea, tossed this way and that by the tide.”
There was a moment of silence as Nanette absorbed her words, her lips pressing into a thin line. Eris could see the maid wrestling with her thoughts before she finally spoke, “Miss Eris, you know the servants… we talk. Lord Thornhill, the Earl, is spoken of highly among the staff as is his brother, Lieutenant Hudson. The Earl is fair and kind. He does not treat servants like they are beneath him. I know it ain’t my place, Miss, but perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to marry the Earl or his brother.”
She let the sentence trail off, clearly uncomfortable with overstepping her bounds. Eris looked at her maid, the one person in the entire estate who did not see her merely as a pawn to be moved and manipulated. Nanette’s words, though born of a place of care, only served to further twist the knot in her stomach. To think she had ended up here, her life reduced to the idle speculation of a maid over her potential marriage to an insufferable rake of an Earl.
Eris exhaled deeply, trying to quell the surge of frustration welling within her. “Choose whichever you like, Nanette,” she finally responded, her tone resigned. “I trust your judgment.”
Eris could tell Nanette wanted to say more, to comfort her, but she held her tongue. In silence, the maid began preparing the blush pink gown, leaving Eris to her thoughts. Thoughts that, no matter how she tried to steer them, kept circling back to the infuriating Earl of Thornhill.
Nanette set about her duties with practiced efficiency, her nimble fingers making quick work of the laces and hooks of Eris’ undergarments and petticoats. Once she had the foundation laid, she slipped the blush pink gown over Eris’ head, the silk fabric rustling with the gentle movement.
Once Eris was dressed to satisfaction, Nanette moved onto the next task. “Your hair, Miss Eris,” she said, with an approving nod at the gown. Eris seated herself at the vanity as Nanette began her work.
Nanette’s nimble fingers sifted through her dark hair, her touch almost soothing in its gentle rhythm. She expertly separated the strands, arranging them with practiced efficiency. Eris watched in the mirror as her hair gradually took shape, cascading in soft waves around her face, secured loosely at the nape with a few artfully placed pins. The effect was an effortlessly beautiful look that belied the time and effort Nanette had poured into it.
She finished by pinning a few delicate flowers into Eris’ hair, their ivory petals complementing the lace detailing of her gown. She took a step back, her hand resting on her chest as she admired her work.
“There, Miss. You look… well, you look beautiful,” Nanette declared, her voice filled with a certain pride.
Eris met her gaze in the mirror. She could not deny Nanette’s skills; she did look beautiful. However, her heart weighed heavy in her chest. She offered Nanette a faint smile, her eyes reflecting the unease she felt within. If only her heart felt as beautiful as she looked.
Eris stepped into the grand dining hall, her heart pounding in her chest. She was met with the overwhelming sensation of breakfast in full swing. The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon wafted toward her, the warm, rich smell making her stomach rumble with hunger. The elegant tables were laden with a dizzying array of food. Silver trays of soft-boiled eggs sat next to bowls of ripe fruit while crystal carafes of fresh cream sat alongside jars of strawberry preserves. The cacophony of clinking silverware, the rustle of silk gowns, and the low murmur of voices filled the room, creating a gentle hum of activity.
So all the ladies had the same idea as my mother, it seems.
Around her, young ladies with the same expectant look in their eyes fluttered around their respective targets, their giggles a bit too loud, their smiles a bit too forced. Each one bore the same signs of an early morning wake-up call and a carefully planned ensemble. Eris could not help but feel a stab of sympathy for the gentlemen, who were, it seemed, struggling to keep pace with the onslaught of attention.
Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on a familiar face. Cassian, her mother’s preferred choice now, had spotted her from across the room and was now waving her over, a space conveniently free at his side.
“Miss Eris,” he greeted warmly as she approached. His cheerful countenance was a welcome contrast to the tension of the room. Eris returned his greeting with a polite smile, sliding into the vacant spot next to him.
Engaging in easy and pleasant conversation, Eris and Cassian found an easy camaraderie. They chuckled over the previous evening’s frivolities, shared observations about the cloud-laden sky, and even compared their favored artists. However, the friendly banter held no more than just that. There was no underlying spark, no pulse of attraction. It was simple camaraderie, no more, no less.
Marianne Fitzwilliam, Lady Fitzwilliam’s daughter, sat at Cassian’s other side. With her sharp nose, elongated teeth, and a voice that could only be compared to the piercing wail of a peacock, she was as memorable as she was unnerving.
Turning her attention toward Eris, she broached a topic meant to fluster her. “Miss Eris, is it true that your family owns one of the grandest libraries in Bath? Isn’t that where your sister is currently? A shame she has to recover amongst dusty tomes rather than attend the events of the season.” Her voice was shrill in the low hum of conversations, her intent to disarm her very transparent.
Taken aback, Eris stumbled over her words for a moment before regaining her composure. “Indeed, our family is fortunate to be the custodians of an extensive library,” she replied, her tone as steady as she could manage. “It’s quite a haven for any literature enthusiast.”
She did her best to maintain a neutral expression, her gaze fixed on the plate before her as she picked apart a warm, buttery croissant and sampled a handful of sweet, ripe berries. Yet, beneath the table, her fingers clenched into a tight fist. She could handle Marianne’s veiled barbs, but it was the relentless pursuit of her private affairs that set her teeth on edge.
Cassian, bless him, smoothly redirected the conversation toward a more innocuous topic, keeping Marianne from prying further. For the remainder of the meal, Eris ate in silence, her thoughts elsewhere. The opulent surroundings, the delicious food, and the genial company did nothing to lift the veil of dread that seemed to hang over her. Here, under false pretenses with a silent expectation lingering in the air, she found herself no closer to untangling the knot of her predicament.
The clatter of breakfast dishes and the murmur of conversation became a comforting background noise as Eris and Cassian delved deeper into their conversation.
“So, Miss Eris,” Cassian started, taking a sip from his cup of tea, “I remember you once mentioned your fondness for books. Any recent favorites?”
Eris’ face brightened at the mention of her favorite pastime. “I have recently finished ‘Persuasion’ by Miss Austen,” she said. “It’s her latest, a beautiful tale of second chances. The character of Anne Elliot is particularly charming.”
“Austen? I confess I have never had the pleasure of reading her works. Perhaps you could lend me a copy,” he suggested with an easy smile.
Just as Eris was about to respond, a shadow loomed over their table. She looked up, surprised to find the Earl of Thornhill, looking rather out of place at their table.
“Ah, Cassian,” he began, a playful glint in his eyes, “have you finally decided to broaden your horizons?”
