"Come, we mustn't miss him."
Eloise Wilkins laughed as she followed her dear cousin, Iris, through the ballroom. She was eager to get a glimpse of the man who had bewitched her cousin.
"Wait, wait!" Eloise called, trying to get Iris to slow down.
"We can't slow down, or we will miss him. He won't stay at the ball for long. I see his sister, but not-"
Eloise collided with a guest. She looked up and found a man she didn't recognise, peering down at her with a scrutinising gaze.
"My apologies," Eloise apologised.
"Lord Hawthorne," Iris greeted the man of the hour with a curtsey.
Eloise followed Iris's actions and curtsied. She snuck a glance at the man before her. His name rang bells in her ears.
Though his face was unfamiliar, his name was not.
The young boy Eloise once knew had become a lord.
"Lord Hawhthorne, please excuse my cousin Eloise. I was the one pulling her along," Iris added, attempting to save the day.
"Eloise?" Damien Hawthorne, Lord of Fairfield, repeated.
Eloise noticed how his expression changed as though he also recognised her.
"Yes, my dear cousin. Her father is ill and sent her to spend the season here while he recovers. She will stay with my family," Iris shared.
"You should keep your cousin closer, Miss Iris. I recall her having an inkling to run off and find herself in trouble," Damien said, taking a moment to familiarise himself with the young woman he once knew.
"I am not a little girl anymore, Lord Hawthorne," Eloise said, eager to show her maturity this season.
"Indeed, you are not. I must be on my way. Excuse me," Damien said, parting from the young women.
Iris leaned her head onto Eloise's shoulder and sighed. "He is handsome," she said, waving her right hand to fan herself. "We were just fortunate to speak to the most eligible man of the season. By the end of the season, I shall be his wife."
"You speak with so much confidence that I am willing to bet on you," said Eloise.
"You must. The other ladies are likely to swarm him tonight. This is the first gathering he has attended since his return from his countryside home. To get a glimpse of him is a treat," Iris said, watching Damien until he disappeared into the crowd.
"He has become quite popular," said Eloise.
"The Lord of a large estate has always been popular. You have been away for too many seasons. Fear not, I will tell you all that you missed. We have been so lucky to lay our eyes upon Lord Hawthorne. Could we be so fortunate as to see his brothers?" Iris inquired, tiptoeing to see above the crowd.
"Don't you think it is time to return to your mother and father's side? I don't want to be scolded," Eloise said, thinking they had wandered long enough.
Iris panicked as her parents came up. "Perhaps you are right. We should find them and then look for the important guests. My mother said she had someone I must speak with. I hope it is Lord Hawthorne."
"I wish it for you," said Eloise.
Away from the crowded ballroom, Damien made his way toward a secret room where men gathered. He was in search of a little pest who had lost a gambling game and was yet to pay him.
Damien entered a room where the scent of liquor and smoke from cigars mingled, creating a foul odour.
Damien laid eyes on the man he had been searching for, and by the way the small man shrank, trying to hide behind another man, Damien knew he had been seen.
Damien took a glass of wine from a servant and circled the room until he stopped where his prey hid.
"Stanley O'Henry. Are you here winning big, or are you squandering what you need to pay me?" Damien inquired, his amber eyes yielding a terrifying gaze.
"L-Lord Hawthorne," Stanley stuttered as he moved from behind the man he used as a shield. "It is not your money that I use."
"Oh, since you have plenty to waste, then you have my money to return. Gambling," Damien said, glancing at what had occupied Stanley's time. "Isn't that how you lost your money to me? One would expect you to end your little habit."
Damien drowned the wine he quite enjoyed and set the empty glass down on the table.
The other men stopped their game and turned their attention to the interaction between the nobleman and the cowering fool.
"I am ready for my money," Damien said, his hand stretched to Stanley.
Stanley looked at the hand that would have to remain empty for the night.
Stanley clasped his hands, ready to beg for more time.
"Please, I beg-"
"I want to be paid, Stanley. Take your prayers to the church. If you haven't sold your soul to cover a debt, perhaps they can save you. Now, my money," Damien said, waiting for what was owed.
Stanley feared death was upon him.
Under Damien's gaze, Stanley's body felt cold.
"I don't have your money," Stanley spoke softly.
"Louder."
"I don't have your money, but I can get it. Lord Hawthorne!" Stanley screamed as Damien's hand came toward him.
Stanley saw his life flashing before his eyes as Damien dragged him toward an open window.
Damien lifted Stanley off his feet to slightly dangle him off the floor and pushed his body back so Stanley could enjoy the night air. "You don't have what? It couldn't be you don't have my money."
"I had some of it, and I thought I could win a little more. I don't have any of it now, but I can get it by the morning. Take mercy on me and give me a bit more time. I'll have all of it before you are served your breakfast," Stanley promised.
Stanley didn't have the faintest idea how he would get more money by the morning when he had nothing more to bet, but he welcomed time to think instead of dying now.
"Brother!" Kyle Hawthorne, Damien's youngest brother, yelled. "You can't kill anyone at a ball. It's not the right setting. Pull him back," Kyle said, grabbing hold of Stanley's coat to attempt to pull him back inside.
"Damien, are you listening?" Kyle asked, now noticing that his brother's attention was elsewhere.
Damien looked down onto the garden where a young woman popped into his view twice now for the night. Her curious gaze searched every corner of the garden until, as though fate would have it, their eyes seemingly met.
It was a fleeting moment as her gaze went elsewhere, forgetting about his presence.
"Take him," Damien said, releasing Stanley.
Stanley cried out, fearing his life was over. He was saved by Kyle's hold on him.
"Brother, where are you going?" Kyle yelled as he struggled to pull Stanley back inside.
"Home," Damien curtly replied.
There was nothing more for him to see.
Below the balcony in the garden, Eloise tried to get a glimpse of all the entertainment outside. It had been over three years since she returned to town, so there was plenty for her to witness now.
"You must stay still, Iris," said Agatha Wilkins, Iris's mother. "You cannot spoil your appearance before you see Lord Hawthorne."
"Oh, mother! I have already crossed his path, and it was exciting. We spoke for a moment, and I told him of Eloise staying the season with us," Iris shared.
Agatha's gaze flickered to the young woman who was garnering attention since her first day back in town. Her silly daughter failed to realise that a competitor stood beside her.
"Eloise, a lady doesn't stare at others," Agatha said in a scolding tone.
"Forgive me, Aunt Agatha. There is so much to see," Eloise said and lowered her gaze to stop Agatha's temper.
Agatha looked for husband, the one who brought Eloise into their home to please his ill brother.
"Excuse me," Agatha parted from the girls. She approached where her husband Clive stood.
"I'll have the money in a few days," she overheard her husband promise a man.
"Clive," Agatha made her presence known.
Clive flinched, surprised by his wife's voice. "Dear," he greeted Agatha as he motioned for the men present to leave. "Why aren't you with the girls?"
Agatha placed her hands on her hips. "How could you promise anyone money when our finances are not in order? We are counting on Iris to marry well. Do you intend to take away the money for our food and her dowry?"
"You must be silent," Clive placed a finger to his lips. "An answer has come to our doors."
"Our door? You speak of Eloise? How could she possibly be an answer when you have brought us one more mouth to feed? She was better off in her father's home, where there is money to be spent," Agatha said, annoyed.
"That is our answer. My brother has money in his name, and I spoke to the doctor this morning. He is too weak to care for himself and his home, so I shall oversee what becomes of his possessions."
Clive grabbed Agatha's hand and caressed it gently. "You only need to wait a few days. Her inheritance will fall into our hands."