“So tell me, Elizabeth, which of these young men seems the most interesting to you? Have any caught your fancy yet?” Seraphina asked innocently, not really expecting an answer.
She certainly was not expecting the full-body blush that seemed to consume her dear friend when the question was asked.
“There is!” Seraphina gasped happily. “Where is he?! Show him to me!”
Elizabeth tightened her grip on her friend’s arm and shook her head firmly. “No! I cannot! I shall make my move in time, but I shall die of embarrassment if you do not stop at once!”
“I will only stop once you tell me who it is!” Seraphina refused.
So absorbed in their conversation, the pair of giggling women nearly collided with the broad chest of a man.
“Pardon me, ladies,” came a smooth, deep voice. Seraphina’s eyes flicked upward, ready to dismiss the man like she did every other man who attempted to speak with her -- but her protests died in her throat the moment she locked eyes with perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen.
She clutched Elizabeth’s hand more firmly in her own as her gaze rolled up a broad, muscular chest. The man she had nearly collided with looked as if he had strolled right off the pages of one of her romance novels. Seraphina’s heart skipped a beat. Tall, unruly dark brown hair and a pair of emerald, green eyes that somehow caught the light perfectly.
The man wore a polite smile as he looked to excuse his careless actions, but Seraphina could hardly hear his words; he so transfixed her. It was as if someone had reached into her mind and pulled out the same man that she envisioned every night in her dreams. That same man she placed as the romantic interest in every book she read and every daydream she indulged in.
He was far, far too handsome to be a real man. Whoever he was, she was in a world of trouble.
Chapter 4
Only two minutes into the ball, Tristan was already regretting his bargain with his annoying friend. The Windermere family had certainly spared no expense in ensuring that the season’s first ball was lavish and overly stunning. The work was certainly cut out for the families that would host balls in the wake of this one.
Lady Seraphina was a renowned beauty, for certain. For three years, there had been not a single debutant who had been able to hold a candle to her in terms of looks and inherent grace, but looking out over the dance floor now, he knew that there were some faces that, under regular circumstances, he would have dearly liked to have got to know better.
But Tristan knew women, and he knew the power of his undivided attention. It was his theory that Lady Seraphina was the sort of woman who needed loyalty and attention. With the reputation for having such a cold heart as she did, Tristan figured he just needed to find out enough about her passions and interests until he was an expert in those things. Then, once she could not dismiss him as an intellectual inferior, then he would make his move.
It was the perfect plan.
But first, to locate her. If only he were a horse with blinders, then he could more easily avoid all the stunning creatures present this evening. His eyes scanned the ballroom, and his gaze landed on Lady Seraphina Hawthorne. Time seemed to stand still as he watched her move gracefully through the crowd, her raven-black hair shimmering under the soft glow of the chandeliers. The whispers and glances from the guests were nothing but background noise to him, for his focus was solely on the “Unattainable Rose.”
His heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as he made his way towards her, each step bringing him closer to the fulfillment of his audacious challenge. He could feel the weight of the room’s expectation upon him, but his determination never wavered. He, too, had formed a bit of a reputation for himself. Granted, it was of a more salacious sort. There was bound to be more than one mother in this room anxiously awaiting who his first target would be.
Lady Seraphina seemed wholly intent on keeping to herself, so he did the first thing he could think of — he put himself deliberately in her path. Though, he was hardly expecting her to knock directly into him. His hands lifted, bracing her in her path with a reassuring smile. “Pardon me, ladies.”
The challenge he had undertaken was not just about seduction but about breaking through the barriers guarding her heart, a feat he knew would require more than just charm and wit. Their eyes locked briefly, and Tristan sensed a hint of curiosity mingled with scepticism in that fleeting connection.
He wondered if she knew his intentions or if she simply regarded him as another suitor vying for her attention. Either way, he was prepared to prove himself worthy. He rose to his full height and donned his most charming smile, which always ensured a lady to swoon for him.
“You are pardoned,” Lady Seraphina said flatly. She was already side-stepping him and attempting to move out of his company. He could not allow that. This whole ordeal hinged on their first meeting. Things needed to go properly.
“Allow me to make it up to you?” Tristan offered, his gaze never leaving hers.
“That is quite unnecessary, I assure you.” Lady Seraphina dipped into a modest bow that gave him the very distinct impression that he was being dismissed from her company. That, he also could not allow.
“Even if I insist?” He ventured again. “Perhaps with a dance?”
Lady Seraphina’s brow quirked as she looked up at him. “I think that would benefit you more than it would me.”
Tristan could not help smirking. “You can only say that because you have not yet danced with me. It will be a transformative experience.”
Oozing with charm, bordering on arrogance, but he could see that same flicker of challenge answered in Lady Seraphina’s gaze. She would have to dance with him now, if only to prove him wrong.
“Very well. One dance,” Lady Seraphina agreed.
Child’s play, honestly.
Perhaps all the other men that had angled for her attention just were not her type. Tristan was everyone’s type. He offered his arm, which Seraphina hesitantly took. The last thing that he would allow was for her to have a moment to second guess herself or her choice to dance with him.
