Chapter 3 #3
Elena glanced around. Every ear had turned toward them waiting for the next insult to land.
A feud like theirs had often been compared to the likes of the Bard’s Romeo and Juliet without the romance between star crossed lovers.
They were only similar if Romeo and Juliet had been armed with sharp tongues and a willingness to draw blood in public—not on their respective family members, but on each other...
There was no love between Rowan and Julian.
They were nothing like Romeo and Juliet.
Damian’s gaze flicked to Elena, and there it was again…intrigue. Not merely at Elena, but at the way the room was shifting around the women as if they were the true powers here.
Lady Peregrine moved toward Elena with measured grace. “My dear,” she said softly, “perhaps you would walk with me. The gardens are quite peaceful.”
Elena turned, her expression pleasant. “I prefer rooms with doors,” she replied sweetly.
Lady Peregrine’s eyes softened. “I only meant to speak with you…without an audience.”
Elena’s smile sharpened. “And I only mean to avoid being spoken to with the sole purpose of taking away my choices.” Besides she couldn’t leave Rowan now… Not with the addition of the Marquess of Kinross to the guest list.
Lady Peregrine’s mouth tightened. “Elena…”
Elena cut her off gently. “You are very kind,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “And very skilled. But I know what your intentions are, and I refuse to allow you to persuade me into something I do not desire.”
Lady Peregrine’s gaze held hers. Guilt flickered there, and something like respect. Rowan and Julian continued their verbal duel, each barb striking true.
“I hear,” Julian said lightly, “ye’ve been traveling. I suppose that is true since ye are here, but I had thought you’d visit someplace outside of Scotland.”
“Perhaps one day, but I love Scotland. Why would I wish tae leave it.” Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “I hear ye have been merely existing. What a pity that is. Ye could do us all a favor and end yer miserable existence altogether.”
Julian’s mouth twitched. “Still charming I see.”
Rowan’s smile was pure danger. “Still arrogant…though that doesn’t surprise me.”
Elena’s pulse quickened. If Rowan and Julian continued like this, someone would end up compromised simply by proximity. The heat between them could not merely be animosity. It was too sharp and hit like a blow with each word they uttered.
Damian stepped in at last, not between them, but beside Julian, his presence a quiet command. “Rowan,” Damian said evenly, “Lord Kinross is my guest. Do try to be respectful.”
Rowan’s gaze flicked to Damian. “Then I pity yer hospitality as it allows fer the wretched tae take comfort.”
Julian’s low laugh was unmistakably pleased. Elena’s eyes widened. Oh. Oh, no. Rowan’s rivalry with Kinross was not only bitter. It had taken on a new life and would only grow if they were forced to remain in each other’s proximity.
Damian turned then. his gaze lifting to the room, taking in every watching face.
His expression shifted subtly, becoming the perfect mask of calm authority.
He was doing it again. He was shaping the room.
“Elena,” he said, voice carrying just enough to turn heads.
“Will you do me the honor of joining me for a turnabout the terrace?”
Elena’s spine stiffened. A dozen eyes sharpened.
A dozen minds began to write the story of the earl won her hand.
She should say no. Damian’s gaze held hers, steady and unyielding.
Beneath the control, Elena saw it, the private admission he’d never speak aloud in front of witnesses.
He was intrigued and insulted. Because she had never once looked at him and seen his rank first. She had looked at him and seen a man who thought he could control her.
For reasons Elena did not yet understand, the earl could not decide whether that was an outrage…
or the most intoxicating challenge of his life.
Elena lifted her chin. If he wished to control the narrative, then she would make certain the narrative remained hers. “I will,” Elena said clearly, “provided you understand something, my lord.”
Damian’s brow lifted slightly. “And what is that?”
Elena smiled and it was bright and unyielding. “I do not take turns. I make choices, and I still do not choose you.”
A hush fell. Damian’s gaze sharpened, then warmed with reluctant appreciation. “Very well,” he said softly. “Choose, love. What will it be?”
Elena stepped forward, placing her hand lightly on his offered arm, not as surrender, but as a declaration and as they moved toward the terrace, Elena could feel the room shifting behind them. The gossip was forming, alliances adjusted, and their gazes measured their every step.
Outside the windows, the chapel waited in the afternoon light, patient as stone. Inside, two battles had begun at once. But the battle already had a banner and it held their names as if they were written in the stars. The first being Elena versus Rosebery closely followed by Rowan versus Kinross.
Lady Peregrine watched it all, and she could only hope her matchmaker’s instincts would not destroy what she meant to mend.
For it appeared she now had two couples to bring together.
Elena was no fool. She had caught that gleam in the dowager’s gaze.
She had watched Rowan and Kinross with interest, and she didn’t like it.
She would warn her friend later when they were alone.