Page 7 of Seducing an Earl under the Mistletoe
“Of course, Mother,” he said with a smile, then hastily retreated to his study, where he picked up a book in an effort to focus on something else, other than the lovely afternoon he so unexpectedly spent with Marcus’ sister. He couldn’t explain this sudden infatuation with a lady he had just met. No woman had ever had such an effect on him, and he had no idea what to attribute it to.
He started to leaf through his book, nestled in his cozy armchair, but he could barely concentrate. He sighed, blinking heavily, then glancing at the window. The sight before him almost made his heart stop.
There, in the dimly lit courtyard, he could clearly see a dark, concealed figure skulking about in the bushes. Startled by this unexpected sight, his heart raced as he dropped the book onto the floor and rushed over to the window.
The figure moved with stealth, concealed within the shadows of the bushes. His instincts urged him to investigate, to unravel this mystery. Quickly, he grabbed his lantern, the urgency of the situation dispelling any hesitation. With a determined stride, he exited his study and made his way to the courtyard. Each step echoed in the stillness of the evening, shrouded in eerie silence.
Arthur cautiously approached the bushes where he had seen the figure, his lantern casting an illuminating glow on the surroundings. His senses were heightened, and he felt a mix of apprehension and curiosity. As he parted the foliage, he was greeted with an empty space. The figure had seemingly vanished.
Puzzled, he searched the vicinity thoroughly, finding no trace of the mysterious intruder. Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss, as he was still unsure of what he had witnessed.
Returning to his study, he remained vigilant, the incident leaving him with a lingering sense of unease. It was clear that the mystery of the concealed figure was not easily explained, and he vowed to remain vigilant, ready to confront any future peculiarities that might come his way.
Chapter 3
A week later, amidst the pre-festive season excitement, a lavish party was to take place nearby at Lady Fontwell’s residence. Catherine had chosen her gown easily, with the thoughts that it was probably nothing like the balls in London she had gotten used to. Virginie, on the other hand, needed help preparing for the event. They were surrounded by an array of fine garments and accessories, each more splendid than the last.
Catherine took a pearl necklace into her hands, admiring the sheen. “These pearls are exquisite. And these gowns…How on earth did you come to possess such an impressive collection?” Catherine inquired, her eyes widened in awe.
Virginie smiled, arranging her dresses carefully. “Our father’s generosity is quite unpredictable, much like his moods. During his prosperous moments, he lavishes gifts upon us, allowing for these fine acquisitions. However, in leaner times, we must make do with what we have.”
Catherine listened attentively, realizing the peaks and troughs of fortune that had shaped their lives. It was a testament to their resilience and adaptability in a world where circumstances were far from constant. She remembered those times well, and she did not wish to go back to them.
She was perfectly content with her little corner of London, where she could be unapologetically herself, all by herself. However, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t enjoying her time with her family. Surprisingly so.
As they continued preparing for the soirée, Catherine couldn’t help but admire Virginie’s graceful demeanor and fortitude. Despite the unpredictability of their family’s circumstances, Virginie carried herself with poise and elegance, a true embodiment of resilience in the face of uncertainty. Catherine felt as if, in her absence, Virginie had grown into a fine young lady of nineteen years of age, only three years younger than her brother and sister.
With the finishing touches completed, they both admired Virginie’s chosen attire for the evening. “You look lovely, dear Virginie,” Catherine gushed.
“Thank you,” Virginie replied, grabbing a small silk reticule. “I’m ready.”
The carriage ride to Starling Court with their father and brother was filled with joyful chats and the anticipation of the events to come. To be quite honest, Catherine herself had expected a dreary country affair.
However, what awaited her was the modernity and elegance of the soirée. The atmosphere was a delightful blend of tradition and innovation. The ballroom was adorned with tasteful Christmas-inspired decorations, invoking the spirit of the season.
The sounds of Strauss’ compositions filled the air, performed by a talented quartet, while the guests mingled and danced to the enchanting waltzes. Ratafia, a sweet and aromatic liqueur, was served, adding to the sophisticated and festive ambiance of the gathering.
The host and hostess had orchestrated the evening with meticulous detail, ensuring every guest felt welcomed and indulged. The melding of classical music, contemporary dance, and traditional Christmas elements created an atmosphere that was both lively and refined.
As Catherine and Virginie were introduced to their host, Lady Sybille Strauss, who, despite her surname, was not a relative of the famous composer. The atmosphere simply crackled with the aura of sophistication. Lady Strauss was a woman of undeniable influence, her presence commanding attention and respect. She greeted them warmly, showcasing a blend of charm and authority that was characteristic of the social elite.
Just as their father was discussing something with Lady Strauss, Catherine felt Virginie tug at her by the hand.
“There he is!” Virginie whispered into her sister’s ear.
Catherine looked in the direction her sister was pointing. Amaury Barrault, the Conte of Mirabel, was a man of striking appearance, possessing an undeniable allure that drew attention in any social gathering. He stood tall with a well-defined, athletic build that spoke of his active lifestyle. His dark, tousled hair and sharp jawline added to his charm, framing a face that bore sharp, angular features.
Virginie couldn’t help but pull her sister in the direction of the young man, who stood encircled by several other gentlemen.
“Amaury!” Virginie exclaimed, to which he turned around and greeted her with a smile.
“Virginie,” he said with a smile.
Catherine could immediately see that her sister was utterly enamored by the young man.
“This is my sister, Catherine,” Virginie gushed, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“It is a pleasure.” Amaury bowed respectfully. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
