Page 48 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
Images of William invaded her thoughts, his warm gaze, his charming smile, and those stolen moments they had together. The pang of loss twisted in her chest, threatening to undermine her resolve. She forcefully pushed the thought of him away, focusing instead on the task ahead.
The double doors opened to reveal the bustling ballroom. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, her every action reflecting the resolve that she felt. Her heart, already aching with the loss of William, seemed to throb painfully in her chest. She was Eris Saffron, daughter of the Viscount and Viscountess Blackwell, and tonight, she was not simply a debutante. She was a sacrifice, ready to be offered at the altar of survival.
She was here to secure her family’s future, to ensure their survival. No matter what it cost her, no matter how much it hurt, she would succeed. Love was no longer a luxury she could afford. Tonight, Eris would put aside her dreams and bear the weight of her duty. And she would do it with grace, with poise, and with a strength she did not know she possessed.
With one last deep breath, Eris stepped into the ballroom, stepping not just into a grand event but into the most daunting challenge of her life. Her future was at stake, and she would fight for it. She was not just going to a ball. She was going to war for her family’s survival.
ChapterTwenty-Six
William glanced at his reflection in the full-length mirror one last time, running a hand over the crisp fabric of his waistcoat. The charcoal black of his coat contrasted starkly with the white of his shirt, and the silver embroidery at the edges of his lapels and cuffs glinted in the candlelight.
“Looking quite dashing, brother,” Cassian’s voice echoed in the room, his steps barely audible against the plush carpet.
Turning around, William took in his brother’s appearance. Cassian was dressed in a navy-blue suit, his cravat tied impeccably, his brown hair carefully styled.
Cassian walked over to the mirror, adjusting his cravat and winking at his own reflection. “Not too shabby myself.”
“Well, it is the event of the Season,” William replied with a slight smile. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”
With a shared look of understanding, they exited the room. The familiar sound of their boots echoed in the empty corridor, bouncing off the ornate woodwork and oil paintings that adorned the walls. The scent of burning beeswax candles mixed with the crisp autumn air seeping in from the partially opened windows.
Once they reached the entrance, Cassian turned to William. “I have got a prior engagement. I will meet you at the ball.”
A flicker of curiosity crossed William’s eyes. Cassian had always been one for surprises and unconventional antics. “And what might that be?”
The corners of Cassian’s lips curled up into a smirk, the glint in his eyes hinting at mischief. “You will see.”
With that, Cassian strode off toward the stable, leaving William alone. Shaking his head with amusement, William stepped into the awaiting carriage.
As the horses trotted off, his thoughts wandered. Cassian’s words, his demeanor. It was all too suspicious. But knowing his brother, it was probably another one of his elaborate pranks. William could not help but feel a pang of anticipation. This night was turning out to be more intriguing than he had expected.
I really hope Eris will be there tonight…
As the familiar grandeur of the Duchess’ manor came into view, he straightened his posture and adjusted his cravat. With a deep, steadying breath, he stepped out of the carriage and into the flurry of excitement that was the ball. His heart, however, was elsewhere. It was with a fiery-eyed, determined woman who had, against all odds, captured his heart. Tonight, he was determined to win hers.
“Earl of Thornhill, welcome to our home,” the Duke of Hartville boomed as William stepped into the grandeur of the ballroom.
The room was awash with the glow of chandeliers, the sparkling brilliance reflecting off every polished surface. The Duchess, a striking woman in her fifties with a poise that commanded respect, offered a graceful curtsy.
“Your Grace,” William bowed, managing to maintain his practiced composure.
“Ah, Thornhill,” the Duke slapped his back jovially, “I have been meaning to speak with you about the current state of the kingdom.”
“I am all ears, Your Grace,” William replied dutifully, turning his attention to the Duke.
As the Duke started to delve into the intricacies of the Prince Regent’s debts, the Royal Navy’s struggles, and the constant conflict with the French, William found his focus wandering. His mind echoed with the rhythm of the Duke’s words, but his eyes were ceaselessly scanning the room.
Across the sea of brilliantly attired gentlemen and ladies, among the swirl of silken gowns and ruffled cravats, his gaze roamed. Eris. He was looking for Eris. Where was she? His heart pounded in his chest, a rhythm that seemed to drown out the music of the quartet playing in the corner.
“Mmm,” he murmured noncommittally, pulling his eyes back to the Duke, who was now discussing the predicament of the House of Lords. “It is a pressing concern, indeed.”
The political discourse would normally captivate him, and under any other circumstances, he would be contributing eagerly to the conversation. But tonight was different. His heart was a compass, and its needle was unerringly pointing toward a certain rosy-cheeked enchantress. And he was determined to find her.
A sigh of relief escaped him as the Duke wound down his conversation, and with a courteous nod, William excused himself. He drifted through the glittering crowd, his height affording him a bird’s-eye view of the sea of powdered wigs, plumage, and gleaming jewels.
Spotting Lady Marianne in the throng, he quickly pivoted, narrowly avoiding an encounter that would have left him trapped in an endless circle of idle gossip. He made a beeline for the drinks table, choosing a glass of Madeira.
As he took a sip, his gaze fell upon Eris. The golden hue of her gown under the soft light of the chandeliers was enchanting, making her stand out among the crowd. She was deep in conversation with Viscount Merriweather. William held no ill will toward the Viscount but found him to be as exciting as a wet blanket, forever immersed in discussions about his extensive butterfly collection.
