Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

“ D id you really just say that, brother?” Cecilia laughed, shaking her head at her the earl’s latest quip.

The Holloway mansion was alive with chatter as they waited for the first guest to arrive for the ball, the grand dining room adorned with sparkling chandeliers and elegantly set tables, filled with the scent of gourmet dishes wafting through the air.

“Of course I did! You know I’m the funniest one here,” Tristan replied with a cheeky grin, earning a playful shove from Cecilia. “Just admit it, you love my jokes.”

“Love is a strong word,” she teased, rolling her eyes before glancing over at Evie and Nathaniel, who were now deep in their own conversation. Feeling the need to escape the familiar banter, she excused herself, making her way towards the side table laden with glasses of wine.

As she reached for a glass, she suddenly found herself walking alongside Alistair, who had just stepped away from the butler and her breath caught in her throat.

He looked completely different from the slightly drunk man she’d met last night. He was extra dressed today; effortlessly handsome in a tailored suit, the fabric hugging his shoulders perfectly, and his dark hair was neatly styled, giving him the usual air of sophistication that made her heart race unexpectedly.

“Miss Everton,” he greeted, his voice smooth and warm, sending a shiver down her spine. She nodded in response, her throat suddenly dry as the tension in the air thickened between them.

“Your Grace,” she managed, picking up her glass at last, her heart pounding as silence enveloped them. She could feel the weight of his gaze, those deep-set eyes studying her with an intensity that made her acutely aware of every breath she took.

In that moment, she knew she should turn back, rejoin the others, but something about Alistair held her captive. He stood with his usual relaxed confidence, yet there seemed to be an underlying tension in his posture.

“Here’s to hoping it’d be a splendid ball, yes?” To her surprise, he finally broke the silence, his lips curling into a slight smile, as she brought her glass to her lips.

“Not if you’ll be around, Your Grace,” her intrusive thoughts got the better of her and Cecilia couldn’t help the reply that tumbled out of her mouth. Her eyes went wide in realization, however, thankfully, she heard the duke’s chuckles, and she turned to find a smirk on his face.

Something has changed.

Cecilia felt a rush of panic. She was drawn to him, yet she knew it was a dangerous attraction. Each second stretched, and she battled with herself. It was an uncomfortable feeling standing beside him gave her.

The laughter from the others echoed through the grand hall over to them, a melodic backdrop. Cecilia shifted her eyes to the long tables draped in silk tablecloths and the grandeur of the decorations.

I should take my leave from him now.

Yet, their eyes met for a fleeting moment once again, and Cecilia quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming. She could see the slight smirk on his lips, as if he could read her thoughts.

Just as she was about to make a turn to escape, a sudden bustle from the main door drew everyone’s attention. Cecilia stepped back and watched as guests began to flow into the mansion, each one pausing to greet Alistair, who handled each interaction with a grace that was all too alluring.

She felt a pang of panic as she tried to keep her thoughts in check. She didn’t mean to find him attractive. Yet, every time they exchanged glances, a spark of excitement ignited within her, a feeling she couldn’t quite shake off.

“Seems like you’re quite popular tonight, Your Grace,” Tristan’s teasing tone wafted into their ears as walked up to them, gesturing toward the guests who had just approached Alistair.

Alistair chuckled softly, the sound rich and inviting. “I suppose it comes with the title,” he said, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

“Did you sight the way Lord Ashford nearly toppled over at the last ball?” Tristan beckoned Nathaniel and Evie to walk over faster. “We best hope he stays away from the drinks this time.”

Evie lifted a brow, her tone a whisper as she fell in line with them at last. “Lord Ashford?”

“Ah, yes,” Tristan nodded, “I was merely saying, as ‘tis such an important day for His Grace, for him to meet his potential bride and all, one must keep an eye on such a man. We would not want him interrupting at any moment.”

Cecilia forced a smile at the mention of the main purpose of the night. She drew in a deep breath, hoping the tightness in her chest would not show on her expression.

“Honestly, I was of the belief he would take out the entire row of tables!” Nathaniel chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief. The group erupted into laughter, but Cecilia could only manage a chuckle.

She glanced at Alistair, only to find him looking back at her, he didn’t bother to attempt a laugh, his expression unreadable yet charged with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“Right? It was like a scene from a comedy play,” Tristan continued, his voice light, but Cecilia could feel the weight of the moment hanging between her and Alistair. She attempted to join in the laughter again, yet her mind kept racing.

Why is this feeling so different now?

Every time she met Alistair’s gaze, a surge of warmth spread through her, igniting a flutter of nerves that she desperately tried to suppress.

“I think he was simply…” Tristan’s words droned on in Cecilia’s ears as she took another sip from her glass to keep her head in check. “What do you think, Cece? Should we warn her about the next toast?”

The question pulled her back into the conversation, but she could hardly focus. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, drowning out the laughter around her.

“Perhaps we should?” She replied, forcing her voice to remain steady. She hoped that was the right answer. Her eyes betrayed her once more, wandering back to Alistair.

He was watching her as well, and a flicker of amusement danced in his gaze, causing a flush to fill her cheeks.

Have I said the wrong thing?

Thankfully no one else seemed to find her response odd and the conversation went on with ease. Cecilia shot a glare at Alistair as he finally pulled his gaze away.

Why does he keep staring?

Shouldn’t he be focused on watching the door, waiting for his potential duchess to arrive?

“Is that her?”

Evie’s sudden sharp whisper pulled Cecilia out of her thoughts. She turned to her in question, to find eyes wide in excitement as she pointed subtly toward the entrance.

The atmosphere in the grand hall seemed to shift, and Cecilia could only wonder if it was her imagination as an energy coursed through the guests milling around as they turned their attention to the doorway.

At last, the potential duchess had arrived. It seemed word had traveled fast. The duke was looking for a wife, and an arranged marriage was in the works.

The lady stepped into the room like a vision, her presence charging yet soft. The dowager duchess, with her keen eye for social dynamics, wasted no time. She glided over to Alistair, her movements graceful and purposeful.

“Alistair, dear,” she spoke with urgency, “come along with me, please. You must greet Miss Kingman.” With a gentle nudge, she directed him toward the entrance, leaving Cecilia and the rest momentarily forgotten.

Cecilia felt an odd beating in her chest, a mix of anticipation and dread. As the lady got closer, her features came into view. She was stunning, a breathtaking beauty with long, flowing hair that shimmered like spun gold.

Her light features, delicate and ethereal, framed a face that seemed to glow in the dim light of the hall. Time seemed to slow as Cecilia watched her approach, her every step measured and elegant.

Alistair stood beside the dowager duchess, waiting for her. He looked every bit the gentleman, exuding an air of sophistication that would make any woman’s heart race.

A perfect match.

As they drew closer, Cecilia strained to hear their conversation. The dowager duchess’s voice rang out, clear and melodic. “Your Grace, allow me to introduce you to Miss Diana Kingman, daughter of the Marquess of Blackbrook.”

Diana curtsied, her movements fluid and graceful, and a light blush creeping across her cheeks as she met Alistair’s gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace” she said, her voice soft yet enchanting.

“Likewise, Miss Kingman,” Alistair replied, his tone warm and inviting. Cecilia swallowed as he leaned slightly closer, his eyes sparkling with interest.

Conversation went on and Lady Diana’s chaperone, her mother, beamed with pride as she observed the interaction between her daughter and Alistair. “Oh, just look at them already! You two make such a charming pair, Your Grace!” She gushed, her voice filled with excitement.

The dowager duchess nodded in agreement, her expression one of approval. “Indeed, they do seem to complement each other beautifully,” she added, a knowing smile gracing her lips.

Cecilia’s chest dropped at the words, a sudden wave of uncomfortable emotions washing over her. She couldn’t pinpoint why, but the sight of Alistair and Miss Kingman together sent a jolt of annoyance through her. The ringing in her ears intensified, drowning out the laughter and chatter of the hall.

As if in a trance, she watched the duke step forward, offering his arm to Lady Diana. With a gentle smile, she took it, and together they glided toward the dance floor, leaving Cecilia rooted in place.

The sight of them, so perfectly matched, felt like a cruel twist of fate, and her heart sank further as they began to dance, the world around her fading into a blur.

“Cece dear, look at you! You’re practically drooling over the sight, you wish you’d find a match like that, do you not?” Tristan’s sudden whisper and nudge caught Cecilia off guard.

Her gaze remained fixed on Diana and Alistair, who glided effortlessly across the polished floor, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

“Stop it, Tristan. I don’t care about the duke or his potential wife,” she replied, her voice a little too sharp, betraying the turmoil beneath her calm facade. Yet, as the words left her lips, she felt a pang of shame, knowing she was lying.

Diana, with her delicate frame and soft, timid demeanor, seemed to float rather than dance and Cecilia couldn’t help but notice how Alistair’s blue eyes sparkled with interest as he engaged with her, making her stomach twist in knots.

“Honestly, she seems so boring, does she not?” Tristan continued, oblivious to Cecilia’s internal struggle. “I mean, look at her! She’s just standing there, following hie every lead in movement. How dull.”

But that’s exactly what most gentlemen desire.

That’s what… he desires.

Cecilia felt a deeper wave of annoyance rise within her, quickly accompanied by an unsettling jealousy.

“Brother, must you be this way?” she murmured, trying to maintain her composure. “The lady seems nice enough. She’s might just be… shy.” But even as she defended Diana, she couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy creeping in.

The tension in the air seemed to get heavier around her, and Cecilia felt a wave of panic.

What is happening to me? Why does the duke’s attention on her make me feel this way?

I should not care.

She turned away from the scene, her breath quickening as she fought to suppress the emotions swirling inside her.

“Let’s just find somewhere to socialize, brother,” she suggested, desperate to escape the sight of Alistair and Diana together.

The laughter and music faded into the background as she tried to soothe the storm brewing within her heart, knowing full well that the truth was far more complicated than she dared to admit.

None of that matters.

I shall enjoy this evening myself as well.

Who knows? Perhaps I shall find a match of my own.