Bewitching The Recluse [BOOK 2 of Price Family Saga]

1. Chapter (The Solitary Soul in Hertford)

Travis had just completed a graceful dance with Eliza when another lady resolved to extend an invitation to him for the next round. Such audacity was unprecedented and daring, for it risked rendering her the subject of ridicule, her reputation tarnished before the discerning eyes of the royal assembly. 

Nonetheless, once her footsteps propelled her forward, a point of no return was reached. Her limbs quivered akin to delicate aspic, while her heart, steadfast as ever, maintained its rhythm of trepidation as she advanced towards him. The dread that it might dislodge from its rightful abode or echo against her temples until it shatters became an unbidden companion. 

He, an enigma beyond her grasp, a reverie born of unfulfilled longings, stood before her. Her resolve had been fashioned into an audacious undertaking, an affront to the conventions that governed their society. Providentially, her approach intercepted his path prior to his reuniting with his assemblage of familiar peers.

"Marquess St. Arcey," she intoned with a determined demeanour, though a quiver insinuated itself into her voice as it pronounced his appellation.

Travis pivoted inquisitively, and within the depths of his gaze, she glimpsed twin sparks of astonishment and curiosity. A modest curvature graced his visage, accentuating the scar etched upon his cheek. To her, even with this slight blemish, he assumed an utterly captivating aspect. In her mind's eye, she envisioned her fingers tracing the line of that scar, followed by the caress of her kisses showered upon it...

"I would be honoured to share another dance with you," she proclaimed with unwavering conviction, her countenance suffused with a blush as the tendrils of fervour danced upon her cheeks.

Her request invoked a ripple of murmurs among the assembled gentlemen, and a smattering of amused chuckles. After all, it was unconventional, if not audacious, for a lady to brazenly beseech a gentleman to partake in a dance, especially amidst the gaze of all. For an interval that seemed to elongate beyond measure, Travis regarded her. The atmosphere thickened, burdened by the suspense that enveloped her very being. Bracing herself for the prospect of rejection, she found solace in the gradual unfolding of a smile upon his lips.

"Indeed, Lady Price, I shall gladly engage in a dance with you on any occasion."

He extended his hand to her as the musicians commenced their melody, and promptly, they found themselves enfolded within the graceful contours of a minuet. Her countenance radiated with elation, her presumption proven accurate as she was not met with a brusque dismissal or subjected to the gentle scorn that other gentlemen might have bestowed in his stead. Her glacial blue eyes remained ensnared by his hazel-green gaze, savouring the intimacy of his undivided attention.

By Heavens, can I truly find myself so irretrievably captivated?, she queried inwardly, when abruptly, his gaze began to traverse past her. After a fleeting exchange of glances, she ascertained that his scrutiny was directed toward Eliza – positioned nearby the dance floor, elegantly imbibing wine. Within Eliza's eyes flickered not solely disdain, but also a shade of envy. It was as though Eliza bore the weight of his distraction with palpable unease, aggrieved that his attentions were not directed her way. Her glance caught the young lady off guard, stealing her breath in time with the dance. She swiftly turned her eyes to Travis, yet, his gaze did not reciprocate her regard. Instead of a smile, a frigid and dispassionate demeanour adorned his visage. It was as though, in an instant, she had vanished from his perception, being supplanted by Eliza. As they once more drew together in the dance's embrace, she ventured a query in a hushed timbre:

"Even after all that transpired, your choice still inclines toward her?"

The query seized his attention, eliciting an abrupt pause. The music promptly ceased, casting an enveloping hush upon the assembly. The ensuing quiet was so profound that the rustle of butterfly wings might well have been heard. The entirety of the hall, an assemblage of a hundred scrutinizing gazes, including those of the musicians, converged singularly upon them. A sensation of warmth, suffused with disquiet, overwhelmed her, while her innards constricted, akin to a cherry's dimensions. A premonition, ominous and profound, gnawed at her consciousness, hinting at a forthcoming occurrence of inauspicious nature.