Tristan found himself at a crossroads, torn between the pursuit of a mere challenge and the genuine interest he felt stirring within him. A part of him wanted to prove to Michael that he could win any woman’s affections with his charm and wit, but another part of him wanted to delve deeper into the mystery that was Lady Seraphina.
Tristan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. With a deep breath, he straightened his cravat and prepared to face the puzzling Lady Seraphina Hawthorne, knowing that this encounter could change everything.
“Lady Seraphina will see you now.” The butler did not make eye contact as he spoke, leading Tristan into the room where Seraphina awaited him. The lilac dress she had chosen for the day perfectly complemented her fair skin and the stark contrast to her raven hair and the rich pink shade of her lips —he could not wait to taste those lips.
He smiled as he bowed deeply in a respectful greeting. His gaze never broke from hers through the gesture. It was interesting to him that her mother did not appear present, but he assumed the woman near was under her family’s employ. Pity. He would have loved to have happened to time things well enough to catch her without a chaperone. His usual charming smile brightened his handsome features as he greeted Seraphina.
“Good afternoon, Lady Seraphina. I hope I find you well,” he said with genuine warmth.
Seraphina did not answer him. Her chin dipped only into the smallest of greeting gestures as her hands demurely clasped in front of her person. She did not so much as rise to greet him as he had entered. Clearly, she was not welcoming him in. No doubt, she was only tolerating his company until she figured out what he wanted. Well, she would be disappointed because he was not here with a particular goal apart from breaking down her defences little by little.
“You look lovely, of course,” Tristan continued, but it only resulted in Seraphina pulling her lips into a thin line. He could not help smirking. “Really want to see me put in the effort today, hm? That is all right. I do not mind carrying the conversation.”
Seraphina shifted on her seat, and for a moment, he thought she would smile. Perhaps he should make that his ultimate goal as she had such a very pretty smile. Tristan was certainly not the sort of man to ever back down from a challenge. His gaze drifted across the room, and his eyes fell upon the book Seraphina had been reading. The sight of Emmeline by Charlotte Turner brought back memories of his mother, who had been an avid reader and had instilled in him a love for literature. A wistful expression flickered across his face, momentarily betraying the carefree facade he often wore.
It made sense to him that his mother would find comfort in a book highlighting the struggles a woman had to endure to survive. Tristan believed she likened the oppressive thumb of the fictional uncle, Lord Montreville, to the husband she had been forced into marriage with.
“Ah, ‘Emmeline’,” Tristan remarked, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “A fine choice of literature, if I may say so.”
“You have read Emmeline?” Seraphina asked sceptically.
Tristan nodded and sat across from her without touching the tea service. He had a feeling that it had not been served with the intention of suitors in mind. The memory of his mother brought a bittersweet ache to his heart. She had been a source of love and warmth in his tumultuous childhood, the one person who had shown him kindness and affection. But she had passed away too soon, leaving him with a void that nothing could fill. Worse, she had left him alone with his father — wholly and utterly at the man’s mercy and the only target of all his father’s rage.
Tristan’s gaze returned to Seraphina, and he noticed how she held the book with reverence. He wondered if she, too, found solace and escape in the world of literature, just as he had.
“I must admit, Lady Seraphina, your choice of reading material intrigues me,” he continued, his eyes locking with hers. “It speaks of a curious mind seeking knowledge and understanding. I find that to be a rather captivating quality.”
His compliment was sincere, and he hoped she could see the genuine interest he held for her, but he did not think she was going to take it that way. How she looked at him implied that she was waiting for him to get to the point.
“Is it surprising to you, Lord Ashford, that I would find value in a novel like ‘Emmeline’?” Seraphina asked, her tone cool and challenging.
Tristan leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady as he met her frosty demeanour with an amused glint in his eyes. “On the contrary, Lady Seraphina,” he replied smoothly, “I believe your choice of literature speaks volumes about your character. ‘Emmeline’ is a tale of love, loss, and resilience, and those themes resonate with many. It is a refreshing departure from the typical frivolous novels that seem to dominate the literary scene.”
From how she looked at him next, he had to assume he had answered her question properly. She pulled the book closer to her defensively.
“Perhaps you are not as predictable as I assumed,” she conceded, her guard still up but showing a slight crack in her facade.
Tristan’s lips curved into a playful smile. “And perhaps you are not as unyielding as you want others to believe,” he countered. He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he nearly encroached upon her personal space. “There is more to you than meets the eye, Lady Seraphina, and I find that rather intriguing. Are we not fortunate to both be in such multifaceted company?”
Seraphina sighed, though it seemed she was only doing it for show. The longer he spent in her presence, the easier it became to read her. “You say a lot of words for a man who does not seem to say much at all.”
“Would you prefer that I be direct? It tends to be much less entertaining when I am too forward with my intentions.” Tristan lifted one shoulder into a shrug and finally helped himself to a biscuit. “Besides, can you honestly say that if I plainly said that I was intrigued by you and wished to get to know you better to court you, would you believe my interest was genuine? I have the feeling you have a sceptical nature, Lady Seraphina.”
She pursed her lips, confirming that he was right. It appeared as if she were putting forth much effort to keep from smiling at him. He decided at that moment that his new personal goal would be to get her to laugh. It was close; he could feel it.
“How about this? We could offer a truth for a truth?” Tristan proposed. “I shall offer up one genuine piece of information about myself, and then you shall do the same. What say you?”
“Very well. Make it count,” Seraphina remarked, her facade slipping further by the second. The fire he had seen in her eyes seemed to spark once more as she felt even the slightest challenge. He could only imagine what it might be like in other situations.
“I enjoy Emmeline because it reminds me of my mother. It was a favourite of hers when I was young as well, and since she passed when I was quite young, I felt that one of the ways that I could grow closer to her memory was to love her favourite books as she did,” Tristan admitted plainly.
Seraphina blinked at him, taking a moment to absorb what he had just said to her. He could tell that she was considering commenting or asking him follow-up questions about his statement but then denied herself. He was more disappointed by that than he cared to admit.
“Your turn, Lady Seraphina.”
She considered for a moment and then seemed to make her metaphorical chess move. “I dislike shallow conversation.”
Tristan’s tongue ran over his lower lip in contemplation. She had fulfilled the terms of the game he set forth, but only in the strictest possible sense. He had already guessed she did not care for anything casual.
