Tension sparked between them, sharp enough to be felt by anyone standing too close. Tristan glanced between them, noticing instantly.
“Ah,” Tristan said, his voice lilting with mischief as Cassian approached. “Everthorne, allow me to introduce you to our newest guests, His Grace, Edwin Hunton, the Duke of Ironstone, and his family.” He gestured toward Isabella and her family, though his smirk made it obvious he sensed far more beneath the surface.
Isabella curtsied. “Your Grace.” Her face revealed nothing, yet Cassian could not help but feel as if something had shifted between them.
Cassian bowed, though his voice came out lower than intended.
“Lady Isabella,” He breathed.
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as though the mere sound of his voice challenged her resolve.
Her father and mother then eased away to greet other acquaintances after their greetings, leaving Isabella standing directly before the two gentlemen.
Tristan wasted no time leaning in. “Lady Isabella,” he said with curious warmth, “I am delighted you could attend. You brighten my ballroom more effectively than all the chandeliers combined.” He gestured to the grand crystal chandelier above their heads with a sweep of his arm.
“You flatter me, My Lord.” Isabella smiled politely.
“I am only speaking the truth,” Tristan insisted.
Cassian’s jaw tightened.
Is he flirting with her on purpose?
Tristan continued smoothly, “I have long wondered why London does not crown you its most radiant jewel. But perhaps the men of the ton simply fear approaching a lady so elegant.”
Cassian made a quiet, disgruntled sound in his throat, though he covered it with a stiff cough as he placed his hands behind his back and clenched his fingers into fists.
“Perhaps the men of the ton choose better flattery.” Isabella tilted her head, the same defiant glint in her eyes as when she had challenged Cassian in his own house.
Does she speak like that to all the men of the ton?
Tristan laughed, delighted, as the sound made passersby turn to look at them.
“Then I shall attempt more honesty. You look lovely this evening.” He corrected his former faux paw before winking.
Averting her gaze, Isabella allowed her naturally long lashes to brush the top of her cheeks as a gentle smile touched her lips. The delicate gesture exposed the nape of her neck on either side as she came up straight.
Tristan seemed to notice as well, as his gaze swept over her elegant figure.
And Cassian saw red.
Shameless rake of a flirt…
He bit back his anger, not wanting to show Tristan that his flirting was getting to him. Giving Tristan ammunition would only make matters worse, and Cassian was not certain how much longer he could endure the teasing. If Tristan’s teasing was indeed a ploy to get under his skin.
Tristan, oblivious or intentionally provoking, added, “Would you do me the honor of a dance later, Lady Isabella?”
Isabella hesitated briefly, then she dipped her head in agreement. “We shall see about that, My Lord.” A teasing smile danced around her lips.
Cassian nearly snapped as he drew his lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it sharply.
Returning her smile, Tristan bowed. “That certainly is a promising challenge, My Lady. Now, if you would excuse me, I shall leave you in the capable, if somewhat grumpy, hands of my companion. I must circulate before the other young ladies grow jealous of your beauty.” He came up with a smirk and left.
Cassian could feel his anger threatening burst as he watched his friend leave.
Clearing her throat in a delicate manner, Isabella turned to leave. “I guess I shall go and find my family then, if you would excuse me, Your Grace.”
Reaching out without thinking, he gripped her wrist and held her back, letting go as soon as he realized what he was doing. His body was dangerously close to her again, a predicament that seemed hell-bent on repeating itself between them.
