Elizabeth leaned in conspiratorially. “He did not!” she whispered, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You know, I have always thought of Lord Ashford as the epitome of a roguish rake, but now ... perhaps there is more to him than meets the eye.”
Seraphina considered her friend’s words, contemplating the enigmatic Marquess of Aylesbridge. “You may be right,” she admitted thoughtfully. “There is a depth to him that I cannot quite fathom, a complexity that draws one in.”
Elizabeth nodded in agreement. “Exactly! He’s like an intricate puzzle waiting to be unravelled. I must say, it’s rather exciting, don’t you think?”
A soft chuckle escaped Seraphina’s lips. “Funny, he said the same thing about me,” she confessed, allowing herself to revel in the intrigue surrounding Lord Ashford. “Though I must admit, I have no intention of being swept away by any roguish charms.”
“Of course not; one does not intend to be swept away; it simply just happens! At least, that is what I have heard,” Elizabeth replied with a wink. “But there is no harm in enjoying a little mystery and excitement, is there?”
Seraphina’s gaze softened as she looked at her dear friend.
“No, you are right, there is not,” she said, appreciating Elizabeth’s support and understanding.
Part of her wished to confide in Elizabeth the truth of her birth. Perhaps it would make it simpler for Elizabeth to understand Seraphina’s caution. She knew that whomever she chose to be with, if anyone at all, would have to be somebody she trusted implicitly to love her genuinely and not simply for her family name. That way, should the truth come to light, it could not be used against her and whatever union she made. But that same hesitance was exactly why she chose not to say anything about her true birth at all.
“Thank you for being here, Elizabeth. Your friendship means the world to me.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly, reaching out to take Seraphina’s hand in hers. “And your friendship means just as much to me,” she said sincerely. “Now, enough talk about mysterious rakes and social gossip. Let us do something fun together. I am certain you have been cooped up in this room for far too long as it is.”
Seraphina’s eyes sparkled with delight. “I could not agree more,” she replied, feeling a sense of comfort and joy in her friend’s presence. With Elizabeth by her side, she knew that even amidst the whirlwind of social expectations and intrigue, she would always have a true and loyal friend to share her journey.
“Fancy a trip to the ice shops while I recount my entire dance with Michael for the tenth time?” Elizabeth practically vibrated with excitement at the very prospect. Seraphina had never met another woman with such a sweet tooth.
“If that is what you wish.”
“I do!” Elizabeth linked her arm through Seraphina’s and started to talk as she pedalled her best friend out of the parlour, leaving the artwork behind.
Elizabeth’s face lit up with a radiant smile.
“Oh, Seraphina, you will not believe how utterly magical the dance with Michael was! I was rather hoping that at least some of the gossip this morning might have been about us, but sadly it was not. Which means that he does not yet have enough reason to keep his focus on me. I am going to have to try harder,” she exclaimed, her voice carrying the unmistakable delight of a young lady entranced by the allure of love and happiness.
“He is quite the charming partner, you know, and I could not help feeling as if we were floating on air.”
Seraphina couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s exuberance. Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with joy as she recounted every step and every word exchanged during the dance as if reliving the enchanting moment all over again. It was a familiar scene, one that Seraphina often found herself in— playing the role of the eager listener, sharing in her friend’s hopes and dreams.
As the afternoon waned, the two friends continued to share laughter and dreams, cherishing the bond that had grown between them. Seraphina treasured Elizabeth’s friendship, the one constant in a world of swirling expectations and uncertainties. And while her heart remained a maze of conflicting emotions, she knew that with Elizabeth by her side, she could navigate the maze with courage and grace.
Chapter 10
Tristan’s favourite gentlemen’s club did not hold the same appeal tonight as it normally did. Perhaps it was simply that he felt too preoccupied to properly dedicate himself to being social, but he found himself waiting until it was polite to leave. He had only been here a short while, and it would be terribly rude of him to leave while still in the middle of his game with Michael.
As the ivory balls clicked and clacked on the green baize of the billiard table, he could feel Michael’s insistent gaze upon him. Perhaps he noticed the unusual distance in Tristan’s gaze. Usually, Tristan was the superior player, effortlessly sinking one ball after another with an air of nonchalance. However, his shots were slightly off today, and his mind seemed distracted.
Michael set his cue aside, leaning casually against the table as he regarded his friend. “Something on your mind, old chap?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Tristan sighed, finally looking up from the billiard balls. “It is nothing, really,” he replied, attempting to brush off the matter.
Michael raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by the dismissive tone. “Nothing? You’re not usually one to lose your focus during a game. Is there something troubling you? Not that I shall ever complain about taking easy money from my dear friend.”
Tristan hesitated for a moment, torn between opening up and maintaining his usual reticence. He and Michael had been friends for years, sharing many secrets and confidences, but this was a matter he was not entirely sure he wanted to reveal just yet. Even more so, he did not wish to have his friend tease him for losing at a bet he had appeared so arrogant about.
“It’s just ... the bet,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’m torn between fulfilling it and ...” He trailed off, not quite finding the right words to express his inner turmoil.
“Between fulfilling it and ...?” Michael prodded gently, sensing there was more to Tristan’s hesitation. Michael clutched his chest dramatically, his billiard cue falling to the ground loudly as he gasped. “Do not tell me that the infamous rake, Lord Tristan Ashford, is finally growing a conscience after all these years?! Say it is not so!”
Tristan sighed again as he rolled his eyes over the theatrics, his shoulders slumping slightly. “And a genuine interest in Seraphina,” he confessed at last. “There is something about her ... something different. I cannot quite put my finger on it.”
Michael raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Different? How so?”
