Page 13 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
“Miss Eris,” he smoothly inserted himself into their conversation, “do you expect your sister to have recovered in time for the closing ball of this fortnight?”
His sudden presence caught Cassian by surprise, his brows furrowing slightly. Eris, however, managed to keep her cool, her previous laughter now replaced with a poised smile, a hint of caution reflected in her eyes.
“William,” Cassian cut in, a lighthearted reproach in his tone, “I am certain there are other guests who could benefit from your attention. Miss Eris and I were in the middle of a delightful conversation.” He shot a knowing look at his brother, a silent query as to his brother’s sudden interest in their company.
“Not this time, My Lord,” she answered, her eyes guarded. He noticed a tiny crease of worry on her forehead. A subject to avoid, he noted mentally.
From then on, wherever Eris and Cassian found themselves, William wasn’t far behind. Be it the morning’s musical performance or the afternoon lecture on philosophy where she’d surprised him with her intelligent response to his question, William was always watching.
His interference didn’t go unnoticed. Lady Patterson, the doting mother of Felicity, cornered him during the break after the philosophical lecture, her eyes glinting with hope and her words laced with aspirations. And he, the ever-courteous Earl, entertained her monologue, albeit reluctantly, his gaze occasionally straying back to Eris and Cassian.
The ever-watchful Lady Thornhill, his own mother, managed to pull him away more often than not, her grip firm on his arm, her words a hushed whisper. “The Eastwicks have expressed interest, William,” she’d murmur, her gaze directing his toward the stunningly beautiful Charity Eastwick.
“Yes, Mother,” he’d reply, the words tasting stale on his tongue.
Throughout it all, Eris Saffron remained an enigma, a constant source of consternation. He was intrigued and wary, his thoughts consumed by the beautiful, vexing woman. One thing was certain — Miss Eris Saffron was going to be a significant problem.
Under the fading sunlight, the assembly relocated to the outdoor patio for afternoon tea. The ladies had donned their fanciest bonnets and gloves while the gentlemen engaged in spirited debates over politics and sport. The air was filled with laughter and the clinking of china, a symphony of jovial interaction that William usually found comforting. However, today was different.
As he poured himself a cup of tea, his eyes scanned the crowd before settling on Eris. She sat among a group of ladies, their vibrant gowns contrasting starkly against her simpler attire. Her demeanor was reserved, almost aloof, yet her beauty was unmistakable. A radiant bloom amidst a field of carefully arranged flowers.
He noted the flurry of questions directed at her and watched as her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting to answer then closing abruptly. He recognized the gleam in the eyes of the older ladies. They scented uncertainty and descended upon it like hungry hounds.
“Miss Eris, do tell us about your sister. It’s such a pity she isn’t here,” Lady Fitzwilliam remarked, her eyes gleaming with ill-concealed curiosity. William recognized the ploy instantly — a veiled jab to unsettle Eris under the guise of polite conversation.
Before Eris could muster a response, another lady, Viscountess Sinclair, chimed in, her voice shrill and penetrating, “And I hear she is ailing. Is it serious, my dear?”
The pointed questions seemed to follow in rapid succession, each more intrusive than the last. The predatory satisfaction emanating from the mothers and their dutiful daughters was palpable as they sought to ruffle the composed Miss Eris.
“Miss Eris,” he began, making his way over to her. His interjection startled the group, halting the barrage of questions. “I am sorry to interrupt,” he said, his tone curt, “but I have been trying to recall the name of that book we discussed yesterday.”
The only book he had mentioned to her wasPersuasion,but the diversion seemed to work. The ladies’ attention was diverted, the atmosphere easing as the topic shifted away from Eris’ sister. He turned back to his tea, acutely aware of Eris’ gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.
An unexpected warmth stirred within him. It was the first time he had seen a hint of gratitude in her eyes, a stark contrast to the usual veiled contempt she directed his way. It left him with a strange sense of satisfaction, one he quickly squashed down.
William quickly excused himself from the gathering. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the lush Thornhill estate, he could not help but feel a certain unease. As much as he told himself that he was watching Eris for his brother’s sake, he knew there was more to it.
William had hardly a moment to gather his thoughts when his mother, the Dowager Countess, expertly cornered him in the hallway leading to the dining room. “My dear boy, you seem rather distracted,” she said, her voice cool and calculating.
The scent of her lavender perfume wafted into his nostrils as he turned to face her. “I am merely ensuring the success of our gathering, Mother,” he replied, maintaining a polite smile.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “By spending an inordinate amount of time with Miss Eris?”
His smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. “I was merely attempting to distract from the somewhat uncomfortable conversation about her sister.”
His mother huffed in disapproval. “Your duty is not to ease Miss Eris’ discomfort but to secure a suitable match, like Lady Charity.”
“I find Lady Charity…” he paused, attempting to choose his words carefully. “Incredibly dull,” he finally admitted. “There’s only so much I can endure before my mind gives out and my body follows.”
His mother recoiled, taken aback by his bluntness. “William! Such language!”
“Well, it is the truth, Mother.” He held her gaze, refusing to back down. “I might be the Earl, but I am also a man — a man who would prefer to enjoy his meals rather than be subjected to a dreary conversation.”
His mother looked as though he had slapped her. Her chin quivered, and her eyes gleamed brightly with unshed tears. She lifted her chin. “You are the Earl of Thornhill,” she reiterated, her voice cold. “You are not here to find the love of your life but to secure an appropriate match to continue the Earldom.”
A quiet sigh escaped him as the weight of his duties once again came crashing down. “Very well, Mother,” he said, adjusting his cravat as he readied himself for yet another tedious meal.
As they entered the dining room, his mother skillfully guided him toward the Eastwicks, and once again, he found himself trapped next to Charity Eastwick. As he sat down and the conversations flowed, his gaze unintentionally wandered back to Eris, causing a frown to mar his features. A very long night awaited him.
