Amidst the lively atmosphere of the gentlemen’s club, Tristan found himself surrounded by laughter, camaraderie, and the clinking of glasses. Yet her image seemed to dance before his eyes, and her presence felt as palpable as if she were there with him. As his friends exchanged jests and tales of their exploits, Tristan’s attention remained elsewhere.
He couldn’t shake off the captivating moments he had shared with Seraphina—their conversation on the balcony, the nearness of her form, the warmth of her breath against his skin. The memory of her touch sent a thrill down his spine, and he felt a sense of longing he had never experienced before.
Lost in his thoughts, he took a sip of his drink, the warmth of the liquor doing little to distract him from the memory of their intimate moment on the balcony. The feel of her hand in his, the softness of her lips so close to his own—it all felt like a tantalizing dream. He found himself yearning for more, craving to explore the depths of their connection.
“Tristan, are you even listening to me?” Michael asked, snapping him out of his reverie.
He chuckled and nodded, feigning attention. “Of course, old friend. You were saying something about how Elizabeth is the most enchanting creature that ever graced this earth?”
Michael rolled his eyes playfully. “Close enough. You know, you should really find yourself a lady like her. Someone who can captivate you with a single smile and challenge you in the most delightful ways. I have truly done us both a disservice by not paying proper attention to her before. Say — perhaps when our wager is completed, we will set about finding you a wife as well!”
Tristan scoffed on reflex alone, privately shocked that the idea did not bring about the same sense of dread in his gut that it had once before. Tristan could not help internally smiling at the irony of Michael’s words. Little did he know that he had already found such a lady—Seraphina. The mere thought of her made his heart race, and he was torn between wanting to explore this newfound affection and the fear of losing the aforementioned wager with Michael.
“Well, I have always been more of a rogue, you know,” Tristan replied nonchalantly, hoping to mask the turmoil within him.
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but even rogues find love eventually. You cannot escape it forever, my friend. Take me, for example!”
Tristan’s gaze drifted to a distant corner of the club, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had always prided himself on his detachment and avoidance of emotional entanglements. But now, he could not deny the allure of Seraphina and how she seemed to awaken something he had long buried within him.
Michael shifted in his seat across from him and placed his hand of cards down. Neither of them had truly made a move in some time now, for Tristan was far too distracted to pay proper attention to it. “Unburden yourself to me, friend. I can see how troubled you are by whatever is weighing on your mind. You are not acting yourself. Confide in me so that we can go back to harmless debauchery.”
Tristan almost laughed.
“Am I so transparent? Likely so.”
Tristan’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the unwelcome memory of Lady Evangeline’s recent visit. Her sudden appearance at his doorstep had been unexpected, and her bold confrontation had caught him off guard. He had been clear in his intentions to end their affair, but Evangeline seemed not ready to accept that.
A frown creased his forehead as he recalled her bitter words and the look of scorn in her eyes. He knew he had hurt her, and he couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt for the pain he had caused. But he had made a choice to move on from their tumultuous relationship, and he would not allow her to disrupt the newfound clarity he had found in his feelings for Seraphina.
“I had an unexpected visitor the other night, and I have not been sleeping very well as a result of it,” Tristan confessed with a sigh. Michael had been there in London when all the misfortunes with Evangeline had transpired, and he felt that if he were to speak about her too seriously, she would somehow mysteriously know that her name was being spoken and show up, unwanted, out of thin air.
“I fear that the company might be a bad omen. Particularly since our wager is firmly under way and going so well. I confess I am deeply enjoying my time with Lady Seraphina.”
In his heart, he knew that Evangeline was a part of his past, and he had no intention of revisiting it. But the intensity of her resentment left him uneasy, and he couldn’t help wondering what she might do next. She was a possessive and determined woman, and he feared that her anger might lead her down a dangerous path.
Tristan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the troubling thoughts. He knew he could not let Evangeline’s actions dictate his own happiness. He had found something special with Seraphina, something he had never experienced before, and he was not about to let it slip away because of someone from his past.
“Dare I ask who your visitor was?”
Tristan gave Michael the side-eye and sighed. “Evangeline.”
Michael hissed and scrunched his nose as if just speaking that woman’s name was a curse in and of itself. He shifted in his chair, adjusting himself and crossing his legs. “And you kicked her right out, I hope?”
“Of course I did. Naturally, she was not overly pleased with my continued rejection of her. She is the bitter type and no doubt will retaliate in some fashion. I am loathe to think what she might do if she were to catch wind of my intentions with Lady Seraphina,” Tristan continued.
“Absolutely not.” Michael agreed. “Not only for her own sake, but she is Lady Elizabeth’s dearest friend, and I will not allow harm to come to either of them.”
“It is simply the feeling that we have not seen the last of her yet that I cannot seem to shake.” Tristan smirked, “And believe me when I say there are far more pleasant things that I would much prefer to think about.”
Michael smirked, but the expression was short-lived on his features as he looked somewhere behind where Tristan was seated. “I do not wish to be the bearer of further bad news, but it would appear that our reluctant acquaintance has taken a shine to you once again.”
Tristan turned in his chair, only to catch the persistent gaze of Lord Reginald Blackwood yet again. “Well, am I not Mr Popularity this week?” he muttered bitterly. “I had thought we were perfectly clear the last time he attempted to intrude upon us …”
“It is best not to engage. Pretend he is not there. That would be the wisest course of action.”
“But, he vexes me so.” Tristan’s grip on his glass tightened as he resisted the temptation to retaliate against Lord Blackwood’s hostile glare. His jaw clenched, and he felt a surge of anger rising within him. It took all his self-control to heed Michael’s wise advice and avoid unnecessary confrontations.
“Tristan,” Michael warned in a rare serious tone. “Let it be. Rumour has it that Lord Blackwood’s come into some small inheritance recently. But, instead of investing it wisely, he has been squandering it away on booze and seeking trouble where he can.”
