As the afternoon sun cast gentle shadows across the elegant drawing room, Seraphina found solace in the pages of a captivating novel. Her mind wandered into the world of fiction, where the troubles and dilemmas of society seemed distant and inconsequential. The characters came alive, drawing her into their struggles and triumphs, momentarily shielding her from the weight of her own.
There was nothing that Seraphina enjoyed more than losing herself in a good book. Second only to drawing and painting all the visions created inside her vibrant mind’s eye by said books.
In the drawing room, surrounded by the soft rustling of pages, Seraphina immersed herself in the latest novel, finding a sense of freedom and escape within the ink-stained lines. The fictional world offered her an opportunity to explore the intricacies of emotions and relationships without the scrutiny of society’s judgemental eyes. She relished the moments of solitude, cherishing the intellectual and emotional connections she forged with the characters on the pages.
How she longed to be them. If only she could crawl inside her favourite paintings and books — what she would not give to be able to transport herself thusly.
The soft chime of the tea tray echoed through the serene room, forcing Seraphina to hastily look up from her book, a jolt of adrenaline spiking her heart rate from the unexpected interruption. The tea cart pushed into the room was operated by none other than the woman who was the source of her present identity crisis — Adeline. It was nearly impossible to face her mother’s lady’s maid now that she had overheard the truth.
It angered her that neither woman was likely to have ever told her the truth. Were it not for the fact that she happened to have overheard their private conversion — she might have lived the entire rest of her life without ever knowing the truth of her identity.
“Tea, My Lady?” Adeline offered with a gentle smile, setting down the delicate china cup before Seraphina. “I brought your favourite blend.”
“Thank you, Adeline,” Seraphina replied softly, her voice hesitant. She reached out to take the cup, her fingers wrapping around the delicate handle.
Adeline settled into the chair opposite Seraphina, uninvited, her expression warm and understanding. “You were immersed in your book again, My Lady. May I enquire which author has captivated your attention this time?”
It ought not to be a big deal. Adeline had been coming to speak with Seraphina for as long as she could remember. Any time Mother was away visiting with friends, as she was this afternoon — Adeline used to come and play with Seraphina. They would enjoy cards and chess for hours on end. She had always been something of a mother figure to her, a nanny … but now that she knew just how true that sentiment was, it was hard to speak to her without feeling somewhat uncomfortable. While Adeline was doing absolutely nothing wrong at all … Seraphina could now see the motivation behind it.
“Oh, just a novel by an author I discovered recently,” Seraphina replied, trying to keep her tone casual. “It is an intriguing tale of forbidden love and hidden secrets.”
Before she had learned the truth, her answers might have been more verbose, but Seraphina could not summon the enthusiasm.
Adeline nodded, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “It sounds like a captivating story indeed. You always have a talent for finding the most interesting reads, My Lady.”
“Thank you, Adeline.”
It was nothing short of a mercy whenever the butler entered the small room to announce the arrival of yet another unexpected guest.
“My Lady, you have a caller,” the butler spoke, his nose notched respectfully upward. Seraphina glanced at Adeline seated across from her, but of course, the woman would have no reason to know who was coming to call on her. It was highly unlikely that she had been expecting anyone either. Without Mother here, it meant that only Adeline could serve as her chaperone, so she would have to stay.
“Who is it?” Seraphina asked, her brow knit in confusion.
“Lord Tristan Ashford, My Lady.”
Seraphina could have been knocked over with a feather; she was shocked. A single dance and the man took it upon himself to think that meant she wished to be called upon? It was bold, to say the least. Though, it was not wholly unwelcome. She sat slightly straighter in her chair and nodded for the butler to show him in.
“Very well.”
“This is most exciting, mistress!” Adeline hurried from her seat and moved to stand some distance behind Seraphina so that she could observe respectfully but not so close as to make Seraphina feel that she needed to watch what she said and how she said it.
The memories of the dance with Tristan resurfaced, along with the enigmatic air surrounding him. His presence stirred emotions and thoughts she was not accustomed to, leaving her with a strange mix of fascination and uncertainty. The memory of his strong hands guiding her so effortlessly and how she seemed to fall into step with him with far more ease than before. At least meeting with him a second time would show her whether or not it had merely been a fluke that first encounter.
Chapter 8
The grand halls of the Hawthorne estate seemed strangely unfamiliar to Tristan as he waited in the opulent drawing room, his usual air of confidence replaced by a touch of nervousness. He had come to call on Seraphina, guided by an inexplicable impulse that drew him to her side once more. Something about her mysterious allure intrigued him, and he found himself unable to resist the temptation to see her again.
Besides, he had a bet to win, after all.
He had arrived unannounced, forgoing any formalities that usually accompanied such visits. It was a risky move, but Tristan was not one to adhere to societal norms regarding matters of the heart. The notion of seeking out Lady Seraphina without any pretence or calculated plan thrilled him, even though he was uncertain of the outcome.
As he waited in the lavish hall, his gaze wandered to a painting adorning the wall—an exquisite portrait of Lady Seraphina. The artist had captured her ethereal beauty, yet the painting failed to capture the enigma that she truly was. She truly was easy on the eyes. He clasped his hands firmly behind his back as he gazed upon her, taking in the curve of her jaw and the delicate slope of her neck. No, it would be no hardship whatsoever to seduce a woman as stunningly beautiful as her.
But, his aim was not to seduce her. At least, not only to seduce her. He was supposed to make her fall in love with him. Somehow. His heart quickened with anticipation as he heard footsteps approaching, signalling the butler’s imminent arrival. Despite his rakish reputation, Tristan found himself in an unfamiliar position of vulnerability. He could not help wondering how Seraphina would receive him, especially after their dance and her cool demeanour.
On the one hand, Michael’s challenge was a tantalizing prospect. The thrill of the chase, the conquest of a seemingly unattainable woman—the very essence of Tristan’s rakish reputation. It was a game he had played countless times before, revelling in the chase and the pursuit of fleeting passions.
But on the other hand, there was something different about Lady Seraphina. Beneath her detached exterior, he sensed a vulnerability that piqued his curiosity. Her sharp intellect and cool demeanour only added to her allure, leaving him yearning to unravel the layers of her enigmatic personality.
