Page 1 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
ChapterOne
“Eris, have you been listening?”
The carriage trundled over the cobblestones, rattling its occupants as they journeyed northwards. Eris Saffron could not help but watch the landscape blurring past, the vibrant cityscape giving way to the verdant English countryside and then finally to the imposing, craggy wilderness of the North. It was as though the world itself was reflecting the shift in her life from a soft, comfortable existence to something wild and untamed.
She was nestled between her parents, her mother, Lady Blackwell, with her eyes as sharp as flint, and her father, Viscount Blackwell, a man whose weary visage was a far cry from his once jovial demeanor. Their carriage was part of a larger cavalcade making its way toward the grand Thornhill Castle. It was an event unlike any other, a gathering of the most eligible damsels of the ton in a single location.
“Remember, Eris,” her mother began again, her voice as harsh as the carriage’s wheels on the rough stones, “Your sister… she is still very ill, convalescing in the country.” Her mother’s stiff brocade gown rustled as she turned to Eris, her eyes reflecting the desperate urgency of their situation.
Lady Blackwell’s carefully chosen words spun a web of deceit that hung heavy in the closed space of the carriage. Eris nodded mutely. The memory of Lily’s pale face was etched into her mind. Her beautiful sister, the star of every ball, was now shrouded in scandal, hidden away with her secret.
The Viscount’s voice cut through the tense silence, grating against Eris’ already frayed nerves. “And Eris, make sure you take care not to suffer from the same affliction as your sister.” His pointed words hung heavily in the air, casting a chilling shadow over the ostensible ailment that had seized Lily.
His gaze was unyielding, leaving Eris feeling as though she were caught in a bitter northern gale. “The Earl of Thornhill is a prize catch, my dear. This is your chance to secure our family’s future. Your sister’s, too. You must not fail.”
Eris’ heart pounded in her chest as the expectations and lies wove a tight knot in her stomach. Her palms grew clammy, her breaths shallow. The world outside blurred into an unrecognizable smear of colors. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, intertwining with her father’s demands. The pressure bore down on her, leaving her feeling as though she were drowning in a sea of societal expectations.
As they drew to a stop at the foot of Thornhill Castle, the world tilted. Eris was barely aware of the footman swinging open the carriage door and extending his hand. She attempted to rise, her gloved hand reaching for his, but her vision swam, and her balance faltered. She had forgotten how to breathe for the past moments.
The gasps from onlookers were as sharp as ice against her skin as she stumbled and nearly fell out of the carriage. Amidst the stunned silence, a figure dashed toward her. His green eyes were wide with concern, his naval uniform pristine amidst the chaos, the insignia gleaming under the sun.
He was by her side in an instant, offering a sturdy arm for support. Eris glanced at her parents. The murderous looks they gave her seemed to drain the remaining color from her cheeks.
“Are you all right, Miss Eris?” the stranger asked, his voice full of genuine concern. The noble tilt of his chin and the confident bearing of his shoulders spoke of a life at sea, mastering the waves. Eris’ gaze caught on the name embroidered on his uniform. Hudson.
“I… I believe so,” Eris managed to utter, her voice faint. She spared a quick, panicked glance toward her parents before returning her attention to the man. “And you are?”
“Cassian Hudson,” he introduced himself with a warm smile, seemingly oblivious to her parents’ disapproval, “at your service.”
Eris merely nodded, overwhelmed. Cassian helped her inside and called for a servant to bring some water. As soon as his attention was diverted, Eris gathered her skirts and slipped away, her heart pounding a wild rhythm against her ribs. She rushed up the grand staircase, seeking the quiet solace of a bedchamber, far from prying eyes and her parents’ heavy expectations.
This is the beginning of my dance on the precipice.
Little did she know how close to the edge she truly was.
* * *
Walking alongside his mother through the castle’s grounds, William absorbed the scent of damp earth, freshly trimmed hedges, and the sweet fragrance of various blossoms. He could hear the soft chirping of birds echoing in the distance while a gentle breeze rustled the verdant leaves overhead.
Beside him, his mother, the Dowager Countess of Thornhill, paused every few steps, her gaze fixed on a bed of tulips, each bloom seemingly a tear shed from the sky. “Oh, these were your father’s favorites,” she would say, a melancholic sigh following her words. Then, there were the roses. “Your father had these planted on our fifth anniversary after Rose was born,” she would wail, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
William felt a knot of discomfort tighten in his chest with each new memory his mother dredged up. He could feel the weight of her grief pressing down on him like a heavy blanket, suffocating him, leaving him gasping for air. “Mother, you must cease this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. His green eyes held a determined gleam, mirroring the strength he struggled to maintain. “It has been three years. We all miss Father. But… this constant reminder… it makes it harder for everyone.”
His mother blinked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. She quickly dried her eyes, and in a complete change of tune, she said, “You should marry, William.”
He recoiled at the suddenness of her proclamation. “What?”
She nodded vigorously, and the edges of her mouth curled into a smile. “Yes, marry. Your father already had an heir when he was your age.”
“Mother,” he began, massaging his temples as he grappled with the change of topic. “I have yet to meet a woman who sparks my interest enough to consider marrying. Besides, I do not wish to yoke myself to someone out of duty or convenience.”
The Dowager Countess fixed him with a stern gaze, her steely determination shining brightly in her watery eyes. “You speak as if marriage is a prison sentence, William. It is not. It is a partnership, a bond that, when founded on respect and mutual understanding, can bloom into something beautiful. Your sisters are all happily married —”
William huffed out a laugh, the sound bitter. “And what if I have no desire to find out whether such a bond is possible for me?”
“Then you are being a fool,” she retorted sharply. “Your father and I may not have had a perfect marriage, but we found happiness in our shared responsibilities and the family we built. Is that not worth striving for?”
He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking as he tried to keep his rising frustration at bay. “This is not about Father,” he snapped. “And it certainly is not about me wanting or not wanting happiness. I have responsibilities, duties that take precedence.”
