Cecilia felt a rush of panic. She was drawn to him, yet she knew it was a dangerous attraction. Each second stretched, and she battled with herself. It was an uncomfortable feeling standing beside him gave her.
The laughter from the others echoed through the grand hall over to them, a melodic backdrop. Cecilia shifted her eyes to the long tables draped in silk tablecloths and the grandeur of the decorations.
I should take my leave from him now.
Yet, their eyes met for a fleeting moment once again, and Cecilia quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming. She could see the slight smirk on his lips, as if he could read her thoughts.
Just as she was about to make a turn to escape, a sudden bustle from the main door drew everyone’s attention. Cecilia stepped back and watched as guests began to flow into the mansion, each one pausing to greet Alistair, who handled each interaction with a grace that was all too alluring.
She felt a pang of panic as she tried to keep her thoughts in check. She didn’t mean to find him attractive. Yet, every timethey exchanged glances, a spark of excitement ignited within her, a feeling she couldn’t quite shake off.
“Seems like you’re quite popular tonight, Your Grace,” Tristan’s teasing tone wafted into their ears as walked up to them, gesturing toward the guests who had just approached Alistair.
Alistair chuckled softly, the sound rich and inviting. “I suppose it comes with the title,” he said, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.
“Did you sight the way Lord Ashford nearly toppled over at the last ball?” Tristan beckoned Nathaniel and Evie to walk over faster. “We best hope he stays away from the drinks this time.”
Evie lifted a brow, her tone a whisper as she fell in line with them at last. “Lord Ashford?”
“Ah, yes,” Tristan nodded, “I was merely saying, as ‘tis such an important day for His Grace, for him to meet his potential bride and all, one must keep an eye on such a man. We would not want him interrupting at any moment.”
Cecilia forced a smile at the mention of the main purpose of the night. She drew in a deep breath, hoping the tightness in her chest would not show on her expression.
“Honestly, I was of the belief he would take out the entire row of tables!” Nathaniel chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief.The group erupted into laughter, but Cecilia could only manage a chuckle.
She glanced at Alistair, only to find him looking back at her, he didn’t bother to attempt a laugh, his expression unreadable yet charged with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
“Right? It was like a scene from a comedy play,” Tristan continued, his voice light, but Cecilia could feel the weight of the moment hanging between her and Alistair. She attempted to join in the laughter again, yet her mind kept racing.
Why is this feeling so different now?
Every time she met Alistair’s gaze, a surge of warmth spread through her, igniting a flutter of nerves that she desperately tried to suppress.
“I think he was simply…” Tristan’s words droned on in Cecilia’s ears as she took another sip from her glass to keep her head in check. “What do you think, Cece? Should we warn her about the next toast?”
The question pulled her back into the conversation, but she could hardly focus. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, drowning out the laughter around her.
“Perhaps we should?” She replied, forcing her voice to remain steady. She hoped that was the right answer. Her eyes betrayed her once more, wandering back to Alistair.
He was watching her as well, and a flicker of amusement danced in his gaze, causing a flush to fill her cheeks.
Have I said the wrong thing?
Thankfully no one else seemed to find her response odd and the conversation went on with ease. Cecilia shot a glare at Alistair as he finally pulled his gaze away.
Why does he keep staring?
Shouldn’t he be focused on watching the door, waiting for his potential duchess to arrive?
“Is that her?”
Evie’s sudden sharp whisper pulled Cecilia out of her thoughts. She turned to her in question, to find eyes wide in excitement as she pointed subtly toward the entrance.
The atmosphere in the grand hall seemed to shift, and Cecilia could only wonder if it was her imagination as an energy coursed through the guests milling around as they turned their attention to the doorway.
At last, the potential duchess had arrived. It seemed word had traveled fast. The duke was looking for a wife, and an arranged marriage was in the works.
The lady stepped into the room like a vision, her presence charging yet soft. The dowager duchess, with her keen eye for social dynamics, wasted no time. She glided over to Alistair, her movements graceful and purposeful.
