Page 37 of The Lord's Icy Temptress
Lillian approached Seraphina, her hand resting gently on her shoulder. “I understand that this is not easy for you. But you are not defined by your past. You have the power to shape your destiny and rise above the circumstances of your birth.”
As tears welled in Seraphina’s eyes, she looked up at Lillian, her voice softening. “I know. It is just ... sometimes it is hard to believe that when I hardly even know the truth of who I am …”
Lillian’s touch was comforting, a silent reassurance of her presence. “I know it is a struggle, my dear. But you are stronger than you realize. And no matter where you came from, you have a family that loves you.”
It felt as if a weight were lifted off of her shoulders — the apprehension and fear that she had felt over her mother knowing that she knew … that everything might come out into the open and somehow be bad lifted. As her mother pulled her into her arms, Seraphina exhaled slowly, letting go of as much of the uncertainty as she could.
Chapter 26
She wanted him.
Seraphina had all but confirmed it — asking him like that. Where would that encounter have gone if they had not been interrupted? Where would they be standing now? Idly, Tristan’s fingers trailed across his lip contemplatively as he naturally scanned the room for her. No doubt her mother had spoken to her for but a moment, and she should be located somewhere beside her best friend, Elizabeth. At least, so he hoped anyway.
But the moment he stepped into the ballroom, Tristan immediately sensed an unusual tension in the air. Whispers and sidelong glances seemed to follow his every move, setting off an alarm in his mind. Something that on his own would not have been shocking to see at a ball such as this one, but it seemed to be targeted at him so singularly before.
He was fairly certain that he had done nothing gossip-worthy in public as of late. As he straightened his jacket and navigated through the crowd, his unease deepened. The eyes followed him to varying degrees of interest. Tristan was fairly certain he had never been met with such outright animosity as he was at this very moment.
Before he could fully grasp the situation, Michael approached him with an anxious expression. The urgency in his friend’s demeanour was palpable. The anxious way that his friend glanced around the room turned the ball of dread in his belly to something rancid.
“Tristan,” Michael’s voice was hushed but urgent. “Come, let us speak in the hall …”
“What? Why? What has happened?”
“In the hall … it would be best not to speak about this so openly …” Michael urged. It was such a rare thing to see him carrying himself in such an overly serious light that he had no doubt the situation at hand was rather dire. But panic fueled him, and every worst-possible-case scenario ran over and over in his head. Had they been seen? Had somebody overheard something they should not have?
“Where is Sera?” he asked softly, ensuring that nobody but the man at his side would be able to hear him.
Michael’s expression softened. “Perhaps now would not be the best moment …”
“And why not?” Tristan’s heart raced in his chest. If something had happened, he would certainly not allow her to suffer on her own. If there were some way to shoulder half of whatever this was, he would do it without hesitation. He knew how cruel the ton and their sharp tongues could be.
“There is a rumour, well, a couple of rumours … it would be best to discuss them discreetly as one seems to involve you,” Michael muttered, trying to fake an unbothered expression and still somehow shepherd his friend towards the door he had only just entered through.
Tristan’s brows furrowed, a mix of concern and frustration knotting in his stomach. “What rumour?” he pressed, his voice edged with worry.
“I have not yet located the origin of the rumour, but it sounds very much as if there was or is a private conversation happening between Lady Seraphina and her mother, ah, alleged mother … a conversation in which brings to question the legitimacy of her birth … tied with the notion that you are only courting her to win a wager …”
Tristan’s heart could have stopped cold in his chest. He could think of only one person who would be wicked, vile, and spiteful enough to have overheard such conversations. The wager that had only ever been discussed in the privacy of their club - and then tonight. He would not have put it past the insufferable bastard to have been following Seraphina around … spying on her and her affairs.
Lord Reginald Blackwood.
He might not have proof, but he knew in his bones that the jealous man was the culprit. Tristan’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as he fought to contain his anger. Lord Blackwood was playing a dangerous game that could irreversibly damage Seraphina’s reputation and happiness. “Blasted fool,” he muttered through gritted teeth. He scanned the room, noting the prying eyes and hushed conversations that followed him and Michael.
“We need to stop this,” Tristan asserted, his gaze determined. “I have to talk to Seraphina, make sure she knows what is being said and reassure her that I will not let this tarnish her reputation. I can bear it, but she cannot be subjected to the cruelty and rumour of the ton. I have to find her.”
Michael nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. “I shall keep an eye on Lord Blackwood. I believe that Elizabeth is already searching for Lady Seraphina as we speak. Hopefully, we can contain this before it spreads further.”
Tristan’s eyes quickly scanned the ballroom, looking for any of those people whom he needed to find, but none were there. A hollow, aching feeling took residence in his body as his eyes connected with none other than Phillip, Seraphina’s father. The man looked at least three shades paler than Tristan had ever seen him before. He appeared only barely to be holding it together. It was not a good look, given the seriousness of the rumours. It would affect her whole family. Their reputation would be ruined if it turned out that it was true and Seraphina had not, in fact, been born to the pair of them.
The realization hit Tristan very suddenly that he could not have cared less who her parents were. He did not care if she was of humble birth or if this was nothing more than speculation brought about by a petty, jealous man.
Tristan would ensure that Lord Blackwood got what was coming to him — one way or another.
“Do you think that is wise?” Michael grabbed Tristan’s arm before he had a chance to head towards Phillip.
“If we present as a unified front … it might discredit …”
“Yes, certainly. However, please take into consideration that he might very well think that you are nothing more than the man using his daughter to win a wager. You might be the last person in this ballroom with whom he wishes to speak. I strongly suggest that you give him his space.” Michael spoke reason, but that did not make his words easier to obey.
