The Art of turning heart

4 |

The moment I had been dreading finally arrived. I saw Lord Hawthorne making his way towards us, cutting through the crowd with that confident stride of his. I sighed, trying to prepare myself for whatever torment he had in store this time. Violet noticed my sudden stiffness and, catching sight of him as well, nudged me playfully.

"Here he comes," she whispered, her voice laced with amusement.

Lord Hawthorne approached with a slight bow, and Violet took a step back, though not without giving me one last teasing glance. "Lady Isabella," he greeted, his voice smooth and annoyingly polite.

"Lord Hawthorne," I replied, barely keeping the disdain out of my voice.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached for my hand, and before I could protest, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss on my knuckles. I wondered if I should just vomit right there and then. Violet stifled a giggle behind me, and I shot her a glare.

"My lady," he began, straightening up, "would you do me the honor of this dance?"

I hesitated, every part of me wanting to refuse. But with Violet's encouraging nudge from behind, and the watchful eyes of the entire ballroom on us, I knew I had no choice. "Very well," I said, my voice resigned.

Lord Hawthorne offered his arm, and I reluctantly placed my hand on it, allowing him to lead me to the dance floor. As we moved into position, I could see Violet over his shoulder, grinning like a cat who'd just caught the canary. Traitor.

The music began, and we started to dance. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on a point over his shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze. The less I had to acknowledge him, the better.

"Is this really so unbearable for you, Lady Isabella?" he asked, breaking the silence as we glided across the floor.

"Not at all," I replied with a forced smile, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What woman wouldn't delight in being dragged around a dance floor by a man who clearly takes pleasure in tormenting her?"

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine, though I refused to acknowledge it. "Tormenting you? My dear lady, I am simply attempting to enjoy an evening dance. Surely, that's not such a crime."

"Perhaps not," I conceded, "but your enjoyment seems to come at my expense."

"Is it really so bad to be in my company?" he asked, his tone amused. "You wound me, Isabella."

I finally glanced up at him, though only for a brief moment. "You seem to enjoy making people uncomfortable, Lord Hawthorne. I doubt my displeasure affects you in the slightest."

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. "On the contrary, your displeasure is quite... fascinating."

I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the way my heart seemed to skip a beat at his proximity. "Is that so? Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not here to entertain your whims."

"Yet here we are, dancing together," he countered smoothly. "And might I add, quite elegantly, despite your apparent distaste."

I scowled, keeping my gaze averted. "I am simply fulfilling my social obligations, nothing more."

He tilted his head slightly, studying me with that infuriatingly unreadable expression. "Is that what you tell yourself? That you're here out of duty and not because, perhaps, there's a part of you that's curious?"

"Curious?" I scoffed, though my voice lacked conviction. "You give yourself far too much credit, Lord Hawthorne."

"Maybe," he conceded with a slight smile. "But I have a feeling you're not as indifferent to me as you'd like to believe."