Page 10 of The Lord's Icy Temptress
Elizabeth shot a disapproving glare in Lord Reginald’s direction. “It is rather impolite and unsettling, is it not? I wish he would turn his attention elsewhere. Anywhere else would be welcome.”
“Indeed, it is unsettling,” Seraphina agreed. “But perhaps he holds a grudge after I rejected his proposal? It seems so irrational given that it was nearly three years ago.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Sera, you must not blame yourself for his actions or choices. His alleged debts and rumoured gambling problems were never your fault. He should have had the self-control and responsibility to manage his life and habits.”
Seraphina sighed, appreciating her friend’s understanding. “You are right, Elizabeth. I should not let his bitterness affect me. I have no reason to feel responsible for his actions.”
As the night wore on, Seraphina tried her best to ignore Lord Blackwood’s persistent gaze. She focused on enjoying her friends’ company and the ballroom’s splendour. But beneath her composed exterior, a mix of emotions swirled inside her—doubt, unease, and a flicker of anxiety.
Amidst the whispers and laughter of the ballroom, the Regency society played its games, and Seraphina found herself caught in the middle of it all. The dance of hearts and intentions was a complex web, and she could not help wondering if Lord Tristan Ashford was just another player in this intricate game. His enigmatic charm and mysterious allure were intriguing, but she knew better than to let her guard down completely.
Chapter 7
The following morning, Seraphina awoke with thoughts of the previous night’s dance with Lord Tristan Ashford still lingering in her mind. As she rose from her bed and prepared for the day, she could not help replaying their conversation and the subtle flirtations between them. Her emotions were in turmoil, and she was both drawn to and wary of the enigmatic Marquess of Aylesbridge.
Joining her parents for breakfast in the elegant dining room, Seraphina was greeted with smiles. However, her mother’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and her father’s expression was a mix of intrigue and concern. They had undoubtedly heard about her dance with Lord Ashford and were eager to know more.
“Good morning, my dear,” her father, Lord Philip Hawthorne, Earl of Emberdale, greeted warmly and signalled for her to take a seat.
“Good morning, Father,” Seraphina replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. She took her place at the table, and her mother poured her a cup of tea.
“We heard you danced with Lord Ashford last night,” her mother said with a teasing glint in her eye.
Seraphina could not help blushing slightly. “Yes, Mother, we did share a dance.”
Her mother leaned in, a curious smile on her lips. “And how did you find the notorious Marquess of Aylesbridge? Did he live up to his reputation?”
“He was ... intriguing,” Seraphina replied, choosing her words thoughtfully. “Lord Ashford has a way of engaging one’s attention, but he is also difficult to read.”
Her father chuckled softly. He winked at her knowingly as if he could see something she had not yet caught on to. “That sounds like Lord Ashford, always keeping people on their toes. But you must be cautious, my dear. He is known for his rakish ways and may not be the most reliable suitor.”
“I am well aware, Father,” Seraphina assured him with a hint of determination. Whatever her father thought he saw there — she wished to squash that idea quickly. “I will be cautious, but I do not intend to consider him a suitor. He is hardly the sort to be taken seriously.”
Father cleared his throat loudly, and his brow arched dramatically before he spoke. “Because of his reputation?”
It was always so easy to forget the reputation that Father had always held. He, too, had once been considered a formidable rake before falling so deeply in love with her mother. It was a rare success story. Seraphina had been raised on that tale of true love to the point where she could almost recite their origin story by heart. But, just because it happened to work out for them did not mean it would for her. Seraphina had also heard countless stories of cases where rakes would be unfaithful in their marriages, then protected by society as they took mistress after mistress. That would not be her fate. She would not allow it.
When she did not answer immediately, her father continued, “Because I think that should you find Lord Ashford objectionable, it should be for something far less superficial than the rumours that surround him. Until you know the truth of his heart or the origin of his affections for you?”
“It was one dance, Father. It was not exactly love at first sight,” Seraphina muttered. Again, the memory of his warm breath against the shell of her ear rippled through her.
“Love has the power to transform a man! You cannot possibly know his feelings on the matter! You are my beautiful, stunning rose of a daughter! I would not doubt for a second that a man could take one look at you and fall wholly in love with everything about you,” Father said while using a piece of half-eaten toast as a baton to emphasize his point further.
“Lord Ashford and I have barely exchanged a few words. It would be unwise to draw conclusions based on such limited interactions,” Seraphina added in a tone that she hoped would quickly close the conversation.
Father waved off her concerns with an emphatic “phooie.”
Lillian, her maternal instincts ever vigilant, could not help worrying about the intentions of the notorious marquess. She knew first-hand the allure of a charming and seductive man and the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. “Seraphina, my darling, I am glad you are being careful,” she implored, her eyes expressing both love and concern. “Not all men have noble intentions, and Tristan’s reputation precedes him.”
“I understand, Mother,” Seraphina assured her, reaching across the table to take her mother’s hand in a comforting gesture. “I shall be cautious and guard my heart. I am not easily swayed by flattery or charm.”
Philip nodded, acknowledging his daughter’s wisdom. “We trust your judgement, Seraphina,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice. “But do remember, your mother and I only want what is best for you. It would not harm you to allow yourself to be swept off your feet from time to time. Allow yourself permission to feel things fully; that is all I ask.”
“I know, Father,” she replied softly, her eyes locking with his in a silent understanding.
Yet, she knew that she could never do as he asked without being honest about her inferior birth. How could she ever entrust herself fully to another person with that forever hanging over her head? She sat here, listening to her father speak about love and how it had transformative properties, yet she knew it was not enough. The love between her adoptive parents had not been enough to give them a child of their own.
***
