Chapter 27 Chapter 27

Chapter 27 Chapter 27
Adrian
The scent of thick wax and starch was the dominant scent in the air. The Earl of Northingham had paid a visit, and as the custom is, we would need a grand ball to receive him.

The staff and my advisors had quickly taken care of everything, and all that was left was for me to dress up and show up.

Behind me, my valet adjusted the fall of my silver braided, black waistcoat. The fabric was a carefully curated creation of the London looms, with enough design to catch the candles on the chandeliers.

“You’re uncommonly tense, Your Grace,” a voice echoed behind me.

I didn’t need to look to know it was Edmund. From the mirror, I watched his figure framed by the mahogany doorways, leaning on one post like there were no problems whatsoever.

Yet, my heart cried for a day that I almost wish would never come, and an opportunity to live with my true love for all of my days.

The Valentine Ball.

Edmund wouldn’t know these things, would he? His biggest plan was to get me on his side and try as much as it is in his power to keep me around him.

It’s what I like to think. But the possibility of being wrong is something I cannot ignore.

“The weight of the host, Edmund,” I replied, voice low. “We are receiving the Earl of Northingham, a fine man of reputable renown. One must ensure the champagne is cold and the scandals are kept to a manageable simmer.”

The valet finished up with his work and scurried off as if the mere presence of the baron scared him to death.

Edmund walked into the room fully with a lithe, quiet grace. He glanced around the room like it was his first time in it before closing the gap between us, his hands reaching out for the lace at my throat.

I held his hand, stopping him.

“It is more than champagne, Adrian,” he whispered with a smile I couldn’t read. His eyes searched mine with an intensity I couldn’t interpret and I held his gaze, struggling to stay unfazed.

“You are radiating a resonance. A frequency I… have not felt for you in a decade. It’s as if your very blood calls out to someone.”

He slowly withdrew his hand and I let him.

“You imagine of shadows where there are only candles, Baron,” I took a step back from him.

“Do I?” Edmund’s smile had morphed into a thin line. “The ton whispers. They say the Duke of Northbrook has found a mate. They say the stranger is more than a guest but the proof of a bond. And word would soon reach the church, Adrian. They do not look kindly upon the binding of souls to outsiders.”

“I am the Duke of Northbrook,” I hissed. “I do not answer to the rumors of the vestry.”

“But you answer to the bond,” Edmund shot back, his voice bitter. “I have studied the old text, Adrian, and I know what happens when a man tethers. He becomes… vulnerable. Your strength is now shared.”

I felt a surge of Edmund irritation. But I couldn’t tell if that was him being caring or jealous.

I can understand an English man jealous of another because he has found his mate, even when he has travelled the land and yet remains single.

“If you do have a point to make, Edmund, make it with steel or stay silent,” I growled in a commanding tone. Edmund didn’t flinch.

“My point is simple,” he started. “You are hosting the Earl of Northingham. All eyes would be upon you. If you allow… what you share with the girl to manifest, you will be exposing our kind to the light.”

Before I could say a word, he turned around and stormed into the hallway, leaving the scent of ozone in his wake.

Without a reply and a puzzle running through my head, I descended the Northbrook’s Hall. As usual, thousands of wax tapers burned in the golden chandeliers, and soft music from the orchestra filled the space, the music thin over the chatter of excited visitors.

I scanned the crowd quietly for a moment before I spotted her.

In a gown of pale violet silk that looked glorious over her, hair swept up in a sophisticated tumble, she descended the stairs towards me, hand clutching her skirts.

I felt the bond surge. I felt her anxiety, her fear, and the strangeness of the moment that she felt.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, her eyes darting around quickly before meeting mine.

“Miss Vivian,” I replied, taking her hand, cold in mine. I watched the color return to her cheek.

“I feel like a fish in a bird cage,” she murmured. “Everyone is… they are looking at us like we are… a strange science project.”

Her eyes returned to scanning the guest in the ballroom, and I used the opportunity to take a long gaze at her.

“You look exquisite,” I said, pulling her hand a little closer. “As for the science, they are merely watching the sun. It is natural for lesser stars to stare.”

“Adrian…” she breathed. “Why does it look like Edmund wants to break something? He watches like I have broken a priceless fortune.”

I followed his gaze to where Edmund stood, almost seething.

“Let him watch,” I growled, my grip on her wrist tightening. “Tonight is for the Earl of Northingham, not his.”

I led her into the waltz floor, leading her as the music swelled.

The world blurred around us as we danced, and all I wanted was for us to relish in the silence of the music and the storm of our thoughts.

But as the song reached its crescendo, the doors to the ballroom were flung open. A group of men in dark robes strode into the room like they owned the place, led by the parish priest behind them.

The Ecclesiastical Court.

“Your Grace,” the parish walked through his men to stand before them. “We have received a grave report. We seek the catalyst!”