“Oh, of course,” she said, her eyes widening slightly. “Thank you for the company.”
He nodded, wishing he could retreat without the weight of awkward discomfort hanging in the air. As he turned to leave, he felt the sting of their conversation lingering, a reminder of the disconnect that had settled between them.
Alistair approached his mother, who seemed to be taking her leave from conversation with a group of acquaintances. “Mother,” he spoke, trying to shake off the awkwardness.
“Ah, Alistair. There you are,” Lydia beamed. “Did you have a pleasant chat with Miss Kingman?”
“Quite,” he replied, forcing the words out. “She’s… very polite.”
Lydia’s eyes sparkled with approval. “She is the perfect match for you. You know that, don’t you?”
He nodded, feeling the familiar tug of duty. “Yes, of course.”
“But tell me, what do you think of her?” Lydia pressed, her gaze keen.
Alistair hesitated, grappling with the truth that sat heavy in his chest. “She’s… pleasant,” he managed, trying to ignore the absence of any sort of interest or attraction.
“Ah.” Lydia was silent for a moment. “Attraction can grow, Your Grace,” she said, her tone suddenly earnest. “What matters is building a peaceful, traditional home together. That is what is most important.”
As she spoke, Alistair’s gaze drifted across the room, landing on Cecilia, who stood laughing with the same man. The sight of her filled him with a longing that felt almost unbearable.
He quickly turned back to his mother, nodding in agreement, though his heart remained tethered to the woman across the ballroom. “Yes, Mother, I understand.”
“You should consider spending more time with Miss Kingman, it would certainly go a long way,” his mother, Lydia, suggested, her voice laced with encouragement.
He forced a smile, feeling the weight of her gaze. “Yes, Mother, I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, his tone lacking enthusiasm as he stared off into the distance.
“Evangeline, where did you step away to?” Lydia asked, her voice light yet curious.
Alistair’s eyes returned to his side at the mention of his sister’s name, who was approaching them with a smile.
“I was but conversing with the Evertons across the room,” Evie replied, her tone bright and animated.
At the mention of the Evertons, Alistair’s gaze instinctively shifted to Cecilia, who was still twirling with another man. The sight made his heart sink. He felt a tight knot form in his stomach as he watched her, oblivious to his presence.
“You should try conversing with others at the ball. You still have a couple connections to make here and there.”
Alistair barely registered his mother’s words. His focus remained solely on Cecilia, who hadn’t glanced his way even once. His face scrunched in confusion.
Really? Even after our kiss?
Did that really not affect her, at all?
He frowned, feeling a mix of frustration and an aching sadness. From the corner of his eye, he caught Evie watching him, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern.
“Is something the matter, brother?” she ventured, her voice softer now, as if she sensed his turmoil.
He shifted awkwardly, guilt creeping in at the thought of being so obvious. “Not at all,” he muttered, his gaze darting across the room, desperately seeking something—anything—to distract him from the sight of Cecilia on the arm of another man.
Evie, perceptive as ever, didn’t seem convinced. He could feel her scrutiny, the way she was piecing together the fragments of his emotions. His sister was quiet most times, but never unintelligent. He avoided her gaze, knowing she would likely pry if given the chance.
Just then, Lydia excused herself to mingle with other guests, and the moment she was gone, Evie seized the opportunity. “You know, Cece looks lovely with Lord Harrington,” she remarkedcasually, her eyes glimmering with mischief as she tried to gauge Alistair’s reaction.
So that is his name.
Alistair’s heart pounded, and he forced a nonchalant expression. “Who?” he asked, feigning ignorance while his eyes continued to follow Cecilia.
“Lord Harrington,” Evie repeated, light amusement dancing in her voice. “You know, the one who’s been vying for her attention all evening.”
