Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

“ I t’s quite a lovely evening, isn’t it?” Alistair ventured, his voice barely rising above the symphony of laughter and clinking glasses that filled the grand ballroom of the Holloway estate.

The chandeliers cast a warm glow, illuminating the swirling gowns and polished shoes of the guests who moved across the marble floor.

Diana offered a small, polite smile, her delicate features framed by her soft curls that fell gracefully over her shoulders. “Yes, very lovely,” she replied, her tone barely above a whisper, as she glanced away, her gaze drifting towards the ornate decorations that adorned the walls.

Alistair felt a pang of disappointment; her eyes, though bright, seemed to lack the sparkle of genuine interest. He shifted on his feet, adjusting his tailored jacket, the fabric brushing against his skin as he tried to maintain a semblance of confidence. “The music is particularly enchanting tonight,” he continued, attempting to draw her back into the conversation. “Perhaps we could?—”

“I fear another dance would be inappropriate, Your Grace,” Diana interrupted, her voice trembling slightly as she cleared her throat, a nervous habit he had noticed in their brief acquaintance. She looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the lace of her sleeve, clearly more comfortable in silence than in his company.

Ah, well.

Like clockwork, Alistair’s eyes flickered to the ballroom floor, drawn inexplicably to Cecilia, who danced effortlessly with surprisingly, the same man she’d danced with at the previous ball, her laughter ringing like chimes in the air. He felt a magnetic pull towards her, the way her vibrant spirit seemed to illuminate the room, contrasting sharply with the cool detachment of the woman before him.

Stop staring at her.

He forced his gaze back to Diana, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, her posture rigid and formal.

“Diana,” he said, trying to bridge the growing chasm between them. “I assume you’ve attended many balls like this?” He found himself desperate for a spark of connection, but her response was a mere nod, her expression still distant.

“Perhaps many, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice soft as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “But I prefer quieter gatherings.”

The silence stretched between them, awkward and heavy. Alistair felt his heart sink, the realization dawning that their chemistry was nonexistent. He realized, he’d been hoping for more, for something-anything-over the weeks. He cleared his throat again, the sound echoing in the lull of their conversation.

“Right. Quiet gatherings…” he murmured, trailing off as he caught sight of Cecilia twirling away again, the very embodiment of vivacity.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Diana’s eyes follow his for a moment, but she quickly looked away, a shadow of uncertainty crossing her features. Alistair, feeling the weight of their discomfort, struggled to find words, but the silence lingered, thick and unyielding.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t pull his gaze from Cecilia. Her dress flowed like liquid moonlight, the fabric shimmering softly with every movement, as if it were woven from the stars themselves.

The way it hugged her figure accentuated her grace, and Alistair couldn't help but admire the delicate lace that adorned the neckline, framing her face perfectly. Her dark hair seemed to sparkle in the light, creating a halo that made her look almost ethereal.

Alistair felt a pang of longing in his chest, a bittersweet ache that intensified with each smile he watched grace her lips. He squeezed his fists at his sides, the tension coiling within him like a tightly wound spring.

It took every ounce of willpower to resist the urge to stride across the ballroom and claim her attention. He wanted to reach out, to be the one to cause her smile, to breathe in the warmth of her presence.

At last, the music came to an end. Alistair shifted from the tables they had been standing close to and bowed as Diana bent into a curtsy, her delicate frame poised yet distant. A polite smile graced her lips, but there was an air of formality that made Alistair’s stomach churn. Clearing his throat, he spoke, “Lady Diana, it’s been a lovely evening, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice soft and measured.

An awkward silence fell between them again, punctuated only by the distant sound of music and laughter. Alistair shifted his weight, feeling the heaviness of the moment. “I—I should take my leave,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips.

“Oh, of course,” she said, her eyes widening slightly. “Thank you for the company.”

He nodded, wishing he could retreat without the weight of awkward discomfort hanging in the air. As he turned to leave, he felt the sting of their conversation lingering, a reminder of the disconnect that had settled between them.

Alistair approached his mother, who seemed to be taking her leave from conversation with a group of acquaintances. “Mother,” he spoke, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

“Ah, Alistair. There you are,” Lydia beamed. “Did you have a pleasant chat with Miss Kingman?”

“Quite,” he replied, forcing the words out. “She’s… very polite.”

Lydia’s eyes sparkled with approval. “She is the perfect match for you. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded, feeling the familiar tug of duty. “Yes, of course.”

“But tell me, what do you think of her?” Lydia pressed, her gaze keen.

Alistair hesitated, grappling with the truth that sat heavy in his chest. “She’s… pleasant,” he managed, trying to ignore the absence of any sort of interest or attraction.

“Ah.” Lydia was silent for a moment. “Attraction can grow, Your Grace,” she said, her tone suddenly earnest. “What matters is building a peaceful, traditional home together. That is what is most important.”

As she spoke, Alistair’s gaze drifted across the room, landing on Cecilia, who stood laughing with the same man. The sight of her filled him with a longing that felt almost unbearable.

He quickly turned back to his mother, nodding in agreement, though his heart remained tethered to the woman across the ballroom. “Yes, Mother, I understand.”

“You should consider spending more time with Miss Kingman, it would certainly go a long way,” his mother, Lydia, suggested, her voice laced with encouragement.

He forced a smile, feeling the weight of her gaze. “Yes, Mother, I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, his tone lacking enthusiasm as he stared off into the distance.

“Evangeline, where did you step away to?” Lydia asked, her voice light yet curious.

Alistair’s eyes returned to his side at the mention of his sister’s name, who was approaching them with a smile.

“I was but conversing with the Evertons across the room,” Evie replied, her tone bright and animated.

At the mention of the Evertons, Alistair’s gaze instinctively shifted to Cecilia, who was still twirling with another man. The sight made his heart sink. He felt a tight knot form in his stomach as he watched her, oblivious to his presence.

“You should try conversing with others at the ball. You still have a couple connections to make here and there.”

Alistair barely registered his mother’s words. His focus remained solely on Cecilia, who hadn’t glanced his way even once. His face scrunched in confusion.

Really? Even after our kiss?

Did that really not affect her, at all?

He frowned, feeling a mix of frustration and an aching sadness. From the corner of his eye, he caught Evie watching him, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern.

“Is something the matter, brother?” she ventured, her voice softer now, as if she sensed his turmoil.

He shifted awkwardly, guilt creeping in at the thought of being so obvious. “Not at all,” he muttered, his gaze darting across the room, desperately seeking something—anything—to distract him from the sight of Cecilia on the arm of another man.

Evie, perceptive as ever, didn’t seem convinced. He could feel her scrutiny, the way she was piecing together the fragments of his emotions. His sister was quiet most times, but never unintelligent. He avoided her gaze, knowing she would likely pry if given the chance.

Just then, Lydia excused herself to mingle with other guests, and the moment she was gone, Evie seized the opportunity. “You know, Cece looks lovely with Lord Harrington,” she remarked casually, her eyes glimmering with mischief as she tried to gauge Alistair’s reaction.

So that is his name.

Alistair’s heart pounded, and he forced a nonchalant expression. “Who?” he asked, feigning ignorance while his eyes continued to follow Cecilia.

“Lord Harrington,” Evie repeated, light amusement dancing in her voice. “You know, the one who’s been vying for her attention all evening.”

Alistair clenched his jaw, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “I care very little about matters as such,” he replied, his tone sharper than intended.

Evie raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you do not see the chemistry between them.”

He sighed, frustration mingling with a sense of helplessness. “It’s but a dance, you over-dramatize it. It is not any business of ours either way.”

As he stole another glance at Cecilia, laughter spilling from her lips, he felt the heaviness in his chest double, a knot of frustration twisted in his stomach.

He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume him. This was not who he was; he was always in control, always the composed gentleman.

“Yet perhaps it is. We might be in attendance for another wedding soon. I hear the earl is planning to marry her to him,” Evie continued, her words slicing through his thoughts like a dagger.

Marriage??

“Lord Harrington is a steady man in society. And Cece seemed to enjoy his company as well. So of course it would be a good match. Perhaps…”

She continued to speak, however, Alistair felt like he’d been hit with a punch to the gut, igniting a fire of anger that he had never allowed himself to feel so openly. It was as though the world around him had come to a standstill, and all he could focus on was the sight of Cecilia where she moved, smiling.

“Is this true?” he demanded, his voice low and tense as he turned sharply to Evie, desperation and fury mingling in his expression.

“Evangeline, are you sure about this?” His voice came out low and strained once again, barely masking the turmoil churning within him. His eyes returned to Cecilia, the sight before him sending a surge of heat through his veins, and he felt his jaw tighten instinctively.

“Well, Tristan has been speaking to their family,” Evie replied, her tone cautious as she studied her brother’s expression. She had always been attuned to his moods, he knew she could see the struggle playing out on his face, he didn’t care. “He thinks it’s a good match.”

Alistair’s heart raced, a mix of disbelief and anger coursing through him. “A good match?” he echoed, his voice rising slightly. “How can he even consider that? She deserves more than a mere arrangement.” His frustration bubbled to the surface, and he could feel the heat of the room closing in around him.

Evie’s brows knitted together as she watched him, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. “Alistair, it’s not just Tristan’s decision. It’s rare to see Cecilia intrigued with someone, they might-”

“Don’t!” he interrupted, his eyes darkening as he turned sharply to face her. The intensity of his gaze made Evie take a step back, her expression shifting from concern to surprise.

Silence danced between them and Alistair adjusted himself noting the eyes that had turned their way. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a deep breath.

Evie hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but instead, she simply nodded. “We should be happy for her, brother. This was meant to happen.”

Alistair turned away from her without a response. The thought of Cecilia marrying another man ignited a fierce protectiveness within him.

“Why does it have to be him?” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides.

His gaze snapped back to her, laughing at something the gentleman said, her eyes sparkling with merit. He felt a pang of jealousy rise within him, an emotion he had never truly acknowledged until now.

The realization hit him like a cold wave, clear and undeniable now—he was in love with her.