Page 26 of The Lord's Icy Temptress
Even her actual birth mother, Adeline, had done everything in her power to ensure that Seraphina had been loved and cared for in every aspect of her raising. She had not suffered as a result of the adoption, even if it was now regarded as a secret that she felt inherent guilt over. She ought to be easier on them, even in the privacy of her own mind. Seraphina knew she was blessed to have so many people who cared so deeply for her, and she knew that should something more serious happen between Tristan and herself, he would also take care of her.
“Let us hurry to the carriages before I change my mind about attending this evening at all,” Lilian offered as she broke their embrace. “Lady Violet can be difficult to endure even on the very best of days, but she is a menace when she feels slighted.”
“Slighted?”
“Yes. She takes great personal offence to people being late to her balls when she does feel moved to host them, which is very seldom as it is.” Lilian sighed. “Besides, your father always likes to be punctual.”
Seraphina could picture the man already tapping his foot and awaiting their company. As she linked arms with her mother to head for the carriage, excitement at the prospect that soon she might be on Tristan’s arm bubbled inside her.
***
The lustre of the ball was somewhat lost on Seraphina, for she had eyes for one thing and one thing only. It mattered not that the charity ball was a grand affair. She had lost sight of her mother fairly early in the evening, hoping that Lord Ashford would be in attendance and that she might convince him to ask her to dance. She had been mustering up the courage to say a few things to him the whole carriage ride over. She had resolved that perhaps he was worthy of seeing past the walls he had so valiantly attempted to climb.
This meant that she also needed to confide in her friend, Elizabeth, the true scope of her feelings. Though, it was proving rather difficult to get a word in edgewise into their present conversation.
“I clash! I knew that Lady Violet had rather particular tastes, but I never imagined she would take things this far! What if Lord Thorne sees me in my pretty yellow dress and notices how amid all this garish decor, it is presently making me appear ill.”
Distress hedged into Elizabeth’s normally happy voice. She was in a state of near panic. But, she had a point — the colour scheme of the ball seemed to have been intentionally withheld so that all the guests clashed with one another. While Lady Violet was positively thrilled over the amount of colour in her ballroom — she was the only one.
“I shall have to come up with some excuse, or perhaps I can spend the evening in a parlour and have him fetch me? Oh, this is terrible.” Elizabeth muttered. Lord Thorne’s opinion of her was the highest matter of importance. Seraphina should have given it the proper amount of attention, but she could not.
Amid the chatter and laughter of the ballroom, Seraphina’s attention was diverted when her eyes locked with someone across the crowded space. There, standing amidst a group of gentlemen, was Tristan. Her heart skipped a beat, and she momentarily lost herself in the intensity of his gaze. Despite her attempts to maintain her composure, her cheeks flushed with a faint blush, betraying the impact of their previous encounters.
Elizabeth, ever perceptive of her friend’s emotions, noticed Seraphina’s change in demeanour. “What has caught your attention so suddenly?” she asked, her eyes following Seraphina’s gaze. Though, she was likely to notice the man standing beside Tristan than the man himself, given that his present company was Lord Thorne.
“Oh, it is nothing,” Seraphina replied, attempting to sound nonchalant as she tore her eyes away from Tristan and returned her focus to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow playfully. “Nothing, you say? It looked like quite something to me,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Please tell me, I am in desperate need of distraction.”
Seraphina let out a small, amused sigh, knowing there was no hiding her feelings from her perceptive friend. “Well, it is just I have decided that I wish to court Lord Ashford,” she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty and intrigue. It was certainly the most appropriate thing she wished to do with him.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Truly? Do tell me more,” she urged, her playful demeanour turning into genuine interest. “Oh, how he looks at you heats even my skin, and you know I have eyes for none other than my beloved Lord Thorne.”
“It is …” Seraphina trailed off, her focus back on Tristan across the room. His pointed gaze shifted to trail down her frame with an intense appreciation. She could feel it like a physical caress as if he were standing with his hand on her waist. Tristan nodded towards the dance floor, but before she could take a step towards him, Lord Thorne at his side forcibly recaptured his focus. Disappointment blossomed in her gut as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in disappointment.
What was the matter with her? The moment he looked away from her, she wished to cross this ballroom just to give him another reason to focus on her. It was some sort of madness that she clearly suffered from. She needed to get a hold of herself.
Seraphina forced herself to turn away from where he stood, and her face felt as if it were on fire. She fanned herself softly. “Perhaps we are both suffering from the same sort of illness,” she muttered to Elizabeth.
Before she could answer, Elizabeth appeared to catch sight of somebody cutting through the crowd. The change on her friend’s face was drastic enough that Seraphina turned to see what vexed her so. A strikingly stunning woman cut through the dancefloor rudely. She did not seem to care if she disrupted others’ dancing, nor the opinion of those around her as she made a direct path to where Lord Thorne and Tristan stood. There was no way to know which was her target until she reached them.
“And who is this now?!” Elizabeth whispered harshly. The note of jealousy in her friend’s voice was echoed in her own chest.
Whoever it was, Seraphina had a very bad feeling about her.
Chapter 19
As the charity ball at Lady Violet’s estate continued, Tristan found himself standing with Michael amid the lively crowd. The grandeur of the ballroom and the enchanting melodies of the orchestra were lost on Tristan as his thoughts were consumed by the memory of Seraphina’s captivating presence.
His eyes wandered across the room, searching for any glimpse of her. He could not deny the effect she had on him, the way her rumoured icy demeanour contrasted with the warmth he felt whenever she was near. As if on cue, he spotted her at the side of the ballroom, engaged in a conversation with Elizabeth. Tristan’s heart skipped a beat as he watched her, his resolve to approach her strengthening with each passing second.
It was just about as clear of an invitation as he felt he would ever get from Seraphina. She no longer avoided his gaze — she met it with just as much intensity as his own. He appeared not the only one who could not get her from his mind. He had never welcomed such obsessive thoughts before. He needed to touch her. His hands craved her skin.
Tristan nodded towards the dance floor, asking silent permission to approach her while she was with her friend, and she had agreed.
However, fate continued to be cruel to him. Just as he stepped forward to leave Michael’s company, the man’s hand thrust out so that the back of his palm was pressed into Tristan’s chest. His friend leaned in conspiratorially, his breath smelling like overly sweet wine. Tristan could never drink the same varieties that his friend tended to favour.
Just as he was about to make his way over to her, Michael’s jovial voice interrupted his thoughts. “Ah, there she is, the ‘Unattainable Rose’ herself,” Michael teased, nudging Tristan playfully.
