“Oh, of course, uh, why so?” Cecilia replied, her voice steady despite the tension coiling in her chest.
“Because you get to spend more time with Lord Harrington, of course!” Evie stated matter-of-factly.
Cecilia blushed a deep crimson and let out a surprised, awkward chortle. Her eyes instinctively shifted to Alistair, who stood with his arms crossed, his expression inscrutable. He looked striking in his tailored suit, the sharp lines of his jaw accentuated by the soft glow of the chandelier above.
“Your Grace.” Determined to have the upper hand, Cecilia dropped to a curtsy as it was their first interacting for the day.
“Are you enjoying the evening?” He asked, his tone casual, but there was an undercurrent of something more profound.
Why would you care?
“It’s lovely,” she replied, her gaze darting away from him, unwilling to let him see the tumult of emotions he stirred within her.
“Time flies when you’re having a good time,” Nathaniel chuckled, oblivious to the tension crackling between his sister and Alistair. Cecilia forced a laugh, her heart pounding as she felt Alistair’s eyes still on her, a weight that was thrilling and suffocating.
“As soon as you got out there, I knew it would be magical!” Evie exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Cecilia felt her cheeks heat up at the sudden attention. “It was all right,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but she could still feel the intensity of the duke’s stare.
“Just all right?” Evie pressed, her voice rising with enthusiasm. “You must tell me more! What did you talk about?”
Cecilia fumbled for words, her mind racing. “Um, we talked about ourselves, the upcoming society event and… the weather,” she offered, trying to downplay the encounter.
Evie gasped, her hands clasping together in delight. “The weather? Oh, Cecilia, you simply must have discussed something more thrilling than that!” She leaned in closer, her curls bouncing as she moved, and Cecilia couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s enthusiasm.
“Well,” Cecilia said, feeling the heat of Alistair's gaze still fixed on her, “he asked about my family and… my interests.” She hesitated, glancing at Alistair, whose expression remained unreadable. “It was just polite conversation.”
Evie squealed, her eyes wide with delight. “How delightful ! Lord Harrington is known for being quite the charmer. Did he smile at you? ”
Why is Evie so invested in this?
Cecilia felt a wave of confusion wash over her. For some reason as well, she felt guilty for sharing in front of Alistair. The feelingmaddened her. “It was just a dance, Evie,” she said, trying to sound dismissive.
“Just a dance? I doubt it!” Evie teased, her laughter ringing in the air. “Did you not truly see the way he looked at you. It was as though you were the only person in the room!”
Cecilia chuckled nervously, but her laughter faltered as she finally met Alistair’s gaze. The intensity of his expression took her breath away.
Is that… jealousy?
But Cecilia quickly dismissed the thought. Alistair couldn’t possibly feel anything for her. She was just a friend, a mere companion in his world of privilege and power.
But then why did he kiss me?
The questions were never ending so but turned her attention back to Evie, desperate for anything to take her mind off of them. “Really, it was nothing,” she insisted.
“Do you see yourself ending up with a man like Lord Harrington, sister?” Nathaniel’s voice was quiet but to Cecilia, it was as though it cut through the chatter of the ballroom, his brow furrowed in genuine curiosity.
Cecilia raised an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by her brother’s question. She glanced sideways at Evie, whose face waslit up with an almost childlike glee. The air around them felt charged, and Cecilia could sense the weight of Alistair’s gaze, though she dared not meet his eyes directly.
“Honestly, Nate,” she replied, forcing a light laugh, “I can’t say just yet. I believe I need to know a man, and for him to know me, before marriage even enters the question.” Her voice was steady, but inside, her heart raced.
Evie opened her mouth to interject, her eyes dancing with mischief, but before she could speak, Alistair stepped forward, his tall frame casting a shadow over their small group.
“Miss Everton,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of tension, “would you do me the honor of a dance?”
Cecilia blinked in surprise, her heart racing as she turned to face him fully. His hand was already outstretched, strong and inviting. Her breath hitched in her throat. The request hung in the air, and she felt a mix of exhilaration and dread.
She could feel Nathaniel’s eyes on her, assessing, while Evie’s delighted expression only deepened, oddly enough. Alistair’s gaze held a complexity that made her stomach twist. It was more of a command than a question. She could tell by his expression.
