He turned his attention back to Michael, forcing himself to relax and push aside the tense encounter with Reginald. He reminded himself that it was not worth it. Engaging in a confrontation with him would achieve nothing. Tristan heeded Michael’s warning, realizing that engaging with Lord Blackwood would only be a waste of his time and energy. He took a deep breath, trying to let go of the lingering unease in the pit of his stomach.
“You are right, Michael,” Tristan replied, trying to keep his tone casual. At least, there was no point in confrontation until the man inevitably asked one of them for money yet again. But until it was forced to be his problem, it was best to focus on more important matters. “There is no use getting involved in his affairs. Let him squander his inheritance as he pleases. It is none of my concern.”
Michael nodded in approval, appreciating Tristan’s decision to avoid unnecessary drama. “Exactly. It is best to focus on the things that truly matter,” he said, sipping his drink.
Tristan tried to follow Michael’s lead and shift his focus back to their lighthearted banter. They continued their conversation, talking about their recent exploits and sharing amusing anecdotes from their respective circles. Despite the lingering sensation of unease, Tristan did his best to immerse himself in the camaraderie of the moment.
Yet, no matter how much he tried to push the encounter with Lord Blackwood to the back of his mind, the memory of the man’s hostile glare remained stubbornly present. He could not shake off the feeling that there was something more to Lord Blackwood’s resentment, something deeper than just an old grudge. Paired with the sudden resurface of Evangeline, it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. He felt as if there was a storm cloud brewing on the horizon.
Chapter 18
In the elegantly adorned bedchamber of the Hawthorne residence, Seraphina sat before her vanity mirror, surrounded by an array of delicate cosmetics and perfumes. Her lady’s maid stood beside her, meticulously preparing her for the evening’s ball hosted by the ever-eccentric Lady Violet. The soft glow of candlelight bathed the room in a warm ambiance, adding a touch of enchantment to the preparations.
The maid’s skilled hands expertly coaxed Seraphina’s dark tresses into an intricate updo, adorning it with delicate pearl pins that caught the light with a subtle shimmer. The subtle scent of rosewater lingered in the air as her maid gently brushed powder over Seraphina’s porcelain skin, enhancing her already radiant complexion.
The ball gown laid out on the bed was a masterpiece of silk and lace, the bodice adorned with intricate embroidery that echoed the beauty of the blooming gardens outside. As Seraphina slipped into the dress, it cascaded around her like a waterfall of moonlit silver.
The gown’s wide skirts billowed gracefully, offering a glimpse of the delicate slippers peeking out from beneath. The maid fastened the gown with skilful hands, ensuring every seam and fold was perfectly in place. Her eyes gleamed with admiration as she took a step back to admire her handiwork, her years of service to Seraphina evident in the devotion she poured into every detail.
As Seraphina stood before the mirror, she could not help marvelling at the vision that stared back at her. Will Tristan like my dress? The gown accentuated her every curve, and the swathe of fabric seemed to tell a story of grace and sophistication. The soft candlelight lent her an ethereal glow, and for a moment, Seraphina felt like a character in one of the novels she so dearly loved.
Though her reflection radiated an air of poise and elegance, Seraphina’s thoughts were anything but tranquil. The events of the past few days weighed heavily on her mind, and her heart fluttered with nervous excitement as she anticipated the evening’s events. With a final touch of blush on her cheeks and a dab of perfume behind her ears, Seraphina was ready for the ball.
As she rose from her seat, the silken fabric whispered against her skin, and her mind was filled with Tristan. Her hope was that he took one look at her in this dress and had no choice but to ask her to dance with him.
Hopefully, he would be able to steal her away for another private moment between the two of them. She felt as if it had been far too long since they had been together. As she studied her reflection, Seraphina’s hands brushed the outsides of her thighs under the guise of smoothing the fabric down yet again, but in her mind, her hands were transformed to Tristan’s. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that he was there, standing behind her, uttering words of endless flattery like he was so commonly doing — it brought a smile to her face.
“Oh darling,” came Lilian’s voice from the doorway. “It does my heart so good to see you smiling like that.”
Instant embarrassment at having been caught flushed her face red as she spun to face her mother. Shame bubbled inside her as she anxiously pinched the fabric of her skirt. Was she getting too carried away with herself? If this was all just some indulgence of a rake, should she truly be getting her hopes up like this? She had no words that would not be damning to say, and her mother’s expression dropped, seeming to misread the change in her daughter’s demeanour.
“You look beautiful, daughter,” Lilian added gently as she came into the room to stand beside her daughter. “Are you not excited for this evening?”
“I am, Mother.” Seraphina forced a smile and nodded, but her mother was not so easily discouraged.
“You seemed so happy a moment ago; am I intruding?” Lilian pressed.
“It is not that. I am very happy, Mother.” Seraphina hoped that her mother would buy the excuse. “I have not been sleeping as soundly as I would like. That is all.”
It was an easier excuse than the truth, but her mother knew her far too well to buy it. “Is this because of that gentleman? Since you have met him, you seem to have very hot and cold moments, my dear. I know that your father is pressing you into pursuit of him, but if you are not interested in him, that is all you need to say on the matter.” Lilian folded her arms across her chest as she spoke, and Seraphina was flattered by her defensive nature.
Her mother continued, “There is simply no need to rush into any choices regarding your future. I know that sounds contrary to what I have said to you so many times before in that this is your third season but ultimately, your father and I only wish for what is best for you and will ensure that you are happy.”
Seraphina’s posture softened, and she turned to take her mother’s hands in her own with an empathetic smile. “I believe that Lord Ashford will make me happy, Mother. I think I was too quick to distrust his intentions, and my assumptions about him based on his reputation might have clouded my judgment … but I feel now that he might be the first man to truly see me for who I am.”
She squeezed Lilian’s hands softly, hoping that her mother would understand her feelings and empathize with her.
“It always surprises me when you remind me of myself.” Lilian grinned. “I can remember saying something very similar about your father to my mother back in the day.”
Seraphina sighed and fought the urge to roll her eyes. “If this is going to be another lecture about the benefits and negatives of reformed rakes, I do not think I can endure it, Mother.”
Lilian laughed.
“Fine, fine! It just brings about happy memories for me is all.”
Nostalgic tears brimmed in Lilian’s eyes as she pulled her daughter in for an embrace. “I never thought to consider what it might be like to think of you married. I was only looking to have you married in the social sense, but now that the moment I might lose you is so close … I do not know what to do with myself.”
Seraphina softened and hugged her mother firmly. She had struggled so often with her notion of identity since learning that her mother had adopted her at birth. But, the one thing that she had never doubted in the slightest was her parents’ love for her. Even if they could not birth their own children, Seraphina had felt loved as if she had been.
