“She is not like the other women of the ton,” Tristan mused, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. “She is aloof, yes, but there is an underlying vulnerability that I cannot ignore. And the way she challenged me about my choice of literature ... I do not know; it was refreshing.”
Michael chuckled, sensing the sincerity in his friend’s words. “Refreshing, eh? You do sound rather taken with her, Tristan. Are you perhaps going soft on me as well? I never thought that I would see the day!”
Tristan frowned, his emotions in turmoil. He had never felt genuine irritation with his friend before, but he did now. “I do not know what to make of it,” he admitted. “Part of me wants to fulfill the bet and move on, but another part of me ... well, it wants to explore this connection further.”
Michael grinned knowingly. “Ah, so I was right. You are going soft. What misfortune. The infamous Marquess of Aylesbridge struck by Cupid’s arrow. Who would have thought?”
Tristan rolled his eyes, trying to brush off Michael’s teasing. “Do not be ridiculous,” he retorted, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“You know, you do not have to fulfill the bet if you are genuinely interested in her,” Michael suggested, a note of sincerity in his voice. “I mean, it is just a bet, after all. And there is no shame in finding someone you genuinely connect with … you know what you must do should you wish to be let out of it, though.”
Tristan’s gaze narrowed as he battled the irritation once more.
Tristan forced a smile, not willing to reveal his inner turmoil to Michael just yet. “I have lost nothing yet,” he replied, his tone light and playful. “The bet is still on, and I fully intend to win.”
Michael raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing there was more to Tristan’s words than met the eye. However, he did not press further, respecting his friend’s boundaries for the time being.
As they continued their game, Tristan found it challenging to concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting back to Seraphina and their conversation in the drawing room. He could not shake the image of her engrossed in her book, her intellectual curiosity shining through, and her refusal to be swayed by societal expectations. It was refreshing and alluring, and he found himself drawn to her in ways he could not fully comprehend.
Just then, their billiard game was interrupted by the arrival of a noticeably intoxicated Reginald Blackwood, stumbling over to their table. His eyes were glassy, and his movements were unsteady as he tried to steady himself on the edge of the billiard table.
Reginald stumbled over to Tristan and Michael, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “Well, well, well,” he slurred, “if it is not the great Tristan Ashford trying his luck with the ‘Unattainable Rose’.”
Tristan’s gaze hardened as he met Reginald’s mocking eyes. He was growing tired of Reginald’s constant snide remarks and veiled hostility. However, he maintained a facade of nonchalance, refusing to let Reginald get under his skin. Tristan was certainly nothing even close to resembling a friend with this vexing creature.
He exchanged a brief glance with Michael, both aware of Reginald’s propensity for indulging in excesses, particularly when it came to drinking and gambling. It would have been better for the ton as a collective if only he had stayed in whatever hovel he had crawled into for the past few years. It was certainly no secret that his reintegration had been rocky at best.
He was not even going to attempt to speculate as to why Reginald felt it appropriate to speak to him about Seraphina.
“Oh, Lord Blackwood,” Tristan replied with a faint smile, “I never back down from a challenge.”
Reginald’s drunken laughter echoed as he took another swig from a nearby glass. “You are a brave one, Lord Ashford,” he slurred, “but good luck trying to win her over. You will need it.”
Michael shot Tristan a concerned look, aware of the tension between the two men. He tried to diffuse the situation by changing the topic. “Come on, Lord Blackwood,” he said, “let us not spoil the evening with talk of challenges and bets. We are all here to have a good time, remember?”
The knuckles of Tristan’s right hand cracked as his fist tightened around his billiard cue. If he continued to speak about Seraphina in that flippant tone, he was not going to be able to tolerate it long.
Reginald waved a dismissive hand, almost spilling his drink in the process. “Of course, of course,” he mumbled, “but I just find it amusing, that is all.”
Tristan’s irritation grew, but he managed to keep his tone light. “Amusing, you say?” he replied, “Well, I am glad my romantic endeavours can entertain you, Lord Blackwood.”
Reginald’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer to Tristan, his breath heavy with alcohol. “Just remember, Tristan,” he said, his voice low and threatening, “you may think you can charm any woman you want, but not all of them will fall at your feet like some lovesick puppy.”
What was that supposed to mean?
Tristan’s jaw clenched as he fought to control his anger. He knew that Reginald’s bitterness stemmed from his own failures and frustrations, but that didn’t excuse his behaviour.
“I do not expect every woman to fall for me,” Tristan replied evenly, his tone low in warning that Reginald was quickly approaching a line that he ought not to cross. “and I certainly do not see Lady Seraphina as some conquest. She is a woman of intellect and strength and deserves to be treated with respect. Certainly you can agree with that.”
Reginald scoffed, but before he could respond, Michael intervened. “Alright, that is enough,” he said firmly, “let us enjoy the rest of the evening and put this discussion to rest.”
Reginald grumbled something unintelligible, but he relented, knowing he wouldn’t win an argument with Tristan and Michael.
Tristan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering irritation. He knew that Reginald’s words were just a reflection of his own insecurities, but they still stung. However, he was determined not to let anyone sway him from his course, especially when it came to Seraphina.
“Certainly, you have another reason for approaching us that was not to incite an argument?” Michael cautioned, giving Reginald an ‘out’ to save his dignity in this conversation.
Reginald waved a hand dismissively, nearly knocking over a cue ball in the process. “Just thought I would try my luck at a game or two,” he replied with a hiccup.
