This was the fifth time he had tried to look away, but each attempt only intensified his irritation. He felt trapped in a web of his own making, beneath the layers of vexation, there was something deeper brewing.
“Your Grace, you look positively morose standing there,” Tristan’s sudden remark pulled Alistair out of his thoughts, the man’s voice cutting through the lighthearted chatter like a knife. “I propose we liven things up a bit. How about a game of whist? It’s far more entertaining than watching you brood.”
Alistair’s attention was grabbed, and his brow lifted slightly, momentarily breaking the spell Tristan’s sister seemed to have cast over him. The suggestion stirred excitement among the group, drawing their gazes like moths to a flame.
Evie’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she chimed in, “Oh, please, brother! I heard Lord Everton is quite the player. It would be delightful to watch you squirm under pressure. Say yes!”
The corners of Alistair’s mouth twitched upward, a half-smile breaking through. It was one of the first times Evie had addressed him since the tension at dinner, and her enthusiasm was infectious. He simply could not say no.
“Very well, I accept your challenge,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“Then it’s settled!” the earldeclared, clapping his hands together. “Let us find a suitable table, and may the best player win. I trust you’ll put forth a worthy effort, Your Grace.”
As they gathered around a small table, Alistair felt the tension of the earlier moments dissipate. Laughter and playful jabs filled the air once again. Alistair dealt the cards with a practiced hand, thankful to have his mind momentarily distracted from the whirlwind of emotions stirring within him.
Nathaniel leaned closer to Alistair, whispering, “You must promise not to let my brother win. I cannot bear the thought of him gloating over you!” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he chuckled softly.
“Rest assured, I shall do my utmost to ensure he does not,” he replied, glancing at Tristan, who was now focused intently on his cards, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
The game commenced, and the atmosphere shifted, the earlier disconnect replaced by a light-hearted competition. Alistair found himself flowing with the banter, creating an atmosphere that felt both familiar and new.
“Come on, Tristan! You can do it! Win against the duke!” Cecilia voice was loud as she cheered, her voice dripping with theatrical flair. She waved her arms dramatically, even going as far as to pump her fists in the air.
Is she truly being this petty?
Alistair’s expression soured as he watched her from the corner of his eye. “It is but a card game. There’s no need to act like we’re in a common bar,” he snapped, irritation bubbling to the surface. The garden fell silent immediately, and the atmosphere shifted, thickening with tension.
Cecilia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained silence. Alistair felt a surge of annoyance. He took a deep breath, positioning himself with purpose. “Let’s just focus on the game, shall we?” he muttered, determined to make another winning hand and prove his point.
But just as he prepared to play his card, Cecilia leaned in closer, her presence almost magnetic. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped her fingers. “Come on brother, don’t let him intimidate you after this! Show him what you’ve got!”
The unexpected distraction caused Alistair to falter, and he misplayed his card. He turned to glare at Cecilia, who was now wearing a small smirk that told she was far too pleased with herself.
Her long, dark hair framed her face, accentuating her sharp malicious expression and the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.Despite his frustration, Alistair couldn’t help but notice how captivating she looked in that moment, and he quickly turned away and shook his head to dispel the thought.
What is your problem? How could you think such a thing about such an infuriating woman?
The tension in the air thickened, and Alistair felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He was annoyed at himself more than ever. “Terrible woman,” he muttered under his breath, trying to regain his composure.
Suddenly, Nicholas broke the silence with a laugh, easing the tension slightly. “Cecilia, pray tell, would you like to join the game as well? Show the duke and Tristan how it’s done?” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Alistair took note of how her grin widened, and she leaned back on her feet slightly, crossing her arms and rocking back and forth as she shook her head. “Oh, but I simply couldn’t,” she replied.
Alistair felt a mix of irritation yet intrigue at the prospect of facing off against her. He knew he was in for a challenge, and the stakes had just gotten higher.
“Is there truly a need for all of that? I doubt she’d really be able to handle this? It’s not as easy as it looks, you know,” Alistair cut in, addressing Nathaniel up to the last part, where his eyes shifted to Cecilia; His voice dripping with skepticism as he leaned against the table, arms crossed defiantly.
Without a hint of hesitation, Cecilia slid onto the extra chair, her movements fluid and confident. She grabbed a fresh set of cards, her fingers deftly shuffling them as though she had done this a thousand times before.
Her long, dark hair fell around her shoulders once again, framing her face, which was set in a fierce expression that only added to her allure. The determination in her eyes burnt brightly.
Alistair lifted a brow while the others erupted in cheers, their voices a chorus of encouragement.
“Go, Cecilia!” Nathaniel laughed, his tone playful. “Your Grace, one would know better than to underestimate her. She grew up with only brothers, and we played this game all the time. Trust me, she’s got skills.”
Alistair felt a knot tighten in his chest at Nathaniel’s words. He wasn’t keen on the idea of Cecilia proving him wrong, especially not in front of everyone. Yet, as he watched her, he couldn’t shake the feeling of admiration..
She was not the sort of woman he would find himself drawn to, most especially in her current state of chaos and resolve. Yet, the way her brows furrowed in concentration and the flush on her cheeks made it difficult for him to focus on anything else.
