“Perhaps, I shall have to see it before I believe it,” Alistair managed to reply, trying to maintain his composure. His gazeremained glued to Cecilia, who was now fully immersed in the game, her focus solely on her cards.
She caught his gaze at last and shot him a defiant smile, one that sent a jolt through him. He hated how easily she captivated him, how he found himself wanting to understand her better.
“Do just watch her, Your Grace,” Nathaniel urged, nudging him playfully. “You might be surprised.”
“Honestly, Miss Everton, are you even trying?” Alistair did not try to conceal his smirk this time as he laid down another winning hand, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. Cecilia glared at him, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface, but she refused to back down.
“Perhaps if you weren’t so busy gloating every second or so, Your Grace, I could focus,” she countered, her voice edged with sarcasm.
The game of cards was supposed to have brightened the mood, but it only intensified the atmosphere, especially with her brother Tristan watching with barely concealed amusement. He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin plastered across his face, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
“Shouldn’t you be playing instead of merely watching me lose, brother?” she snapped at him, her irritation spilling over. Hislaughter only fueled her anger, and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks.
“Why would I play when I can watch you two go at it? This is far more entertaining,” the Earl replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Alistair’s smirk grew stronger, seemingly unable to resist the opportunity to add fuel to the fire, he cut in, “You know, Lord Everton, perhaps it’s that your sister merely cannot handle the competition, right as I speculated. Isn’t that right, Miss Everton?” His tone was kept light yet taunting, and it made her blood boil.
Didn’t you command we do not interact, Your Grace?
I have not said a word to address you, and yet…
Cecilia seethed. She had purposely taken different routes to avoid him since that night. She had steered off his path and the only reason she was in the same vicinity this day was because she was physically brought out of her room by her eldest brother.
Alistair saw this, so it seemed he understood. All Cecilia could do was curtsy at him, as she did not want for the tension between them to be noticed nor explained. Perhaps, in truth, she could have also declined participating in a game with him, however, he had already addressed her, and more so she was itching to put the man in his place.
You should have remained standing. What a joke.
“I believe everyone has bad days, Your Grace,” she retorted, her voice sharp as she tossed her cards down on the table. “I started late, and I am distracted, I suppose.”
She knew not to respond, yet the way he kept his confident posture—leaning back against the chair, arms crossed, with that infuriatingly charming smile—was causing her mind to be distressed.
“Nevertheless, do remember, you’re supposed to be staying away from me,” he leaned in slightly and raised a brow at her, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. “Once again, you prove why my notions about you are true.”
Cecilia’s eyes widened in worry as they darted around. Tristan was absentmindedly sipping on a glass of wine. Nathaniel and Evie were laughing to themselves above the table. She sighed.
The duke had picked the perfect time to bring up the topic. However, it was a dangerous situation to expand on in any circumstance. She glared at him, hoping her gaze was a strong enough warning.
“I’m just playing a game, as everyone requested. This has nothing to do with you,” she snapped, her tone defensive.
“More wine, please! My cup has been emptied!” Tristan’s boisterous laughter echoed as he beckoned over the servants, swiftly turning his direction to the couple right after.
“Is that really all it is?” Alistair challenged again, his voice falling to a whisper as he quickly leaned forward once more, his blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and Cecilia cursed herself for noticing. “You can’t deny there’s some tension here, you were practically itching to interact with me.”
“I fear you might be having day hallucinations, Your Grace. Perhaps it’s too much sun,” Cecilia spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep her composure.
“What’s this about staying away?” To her dismay, Tristan raised an eyebrow suddenly, glancing between her and the duke who made a loud snort as he leaned away. “Sounds like there’s more than just a game going on here, is there?”
“I-I believe the duke still holds on to the notions that a woman is not to engage in certain activities, brother,” Cecilia was a bright pink as she stumbled over her words, her eyes on the table. She could feel her brother’s doubtful gaze on her.
“And could you blame him?” Tristan’s laughter echoed the table at last. “Sister, you’re doing so poorly today. Whatever is the issue?”
Cecilia glowered at him and the game continued. However, each card played felt like another jab in their ongoing battle. Alistair’s fingers moved deftly as he collected his winnings, and each time he won, it felt like a personal defeat for her.
“Sister, you truly believed you had a chance against the Duke?” Tristan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Cecilia shot him a glare, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “It’s not like I was expecting a walk in the park , brother. Must you pester me so much?”
“Pester you? I’m merely acknowledging the man’s skill,” he replied, a grin playing on his lips. “And I must say, Your Grace, you are truly is impressive.”
