Chapter Eleven

The golden glow of the chandeliers cascaded from the high ceilings, enveloping Elara in a warm embrace as she stepped forward, allowing the door to close softly behind her. She entered through a door at the far right side, away from the grand staircase at the center of the room.

As the daughter of Duke Whitmore, it is a tradition that she makes her entrance at the center. However, Elara preferred to keep a low profile, especially when her parents were not by her side. Tonight, they were running late, likely held up by her father's duties managing the gemstones acquired from the family mine.

Navigating along the pillars, Elara found herself drawn to a table adorned with sweet delights, a small chocolate shortcake caught her attention.

Elara helped herself to a slice, silently enjoying its sweetness as she stood by the table, patiently awaiting her parents' arrival. With each delicate bite, she observed the grandeur of the ball unfolding before her.

Her keen eyes swept across the room, taking in the elaborate decorations, the shimmering gowns, and the lively conversations that filled the air. A soft murmur of music floated through the room, mingling with the sound of laughter and polite chatter.

As she nibbled on her cake, Elara searched the crowd for any familiar faces, her gaze lingering on each guest in turn. Despite the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, she found it challenging to spot anyone she knew amidst the throng.

Suddenly, a boisterous laugh erupted from her left, drawing the attention of those nearby. Elara turned her head in curiosity, her eyes landed on Mrs. Lockewood, who was engaged in animated conversation with a group of ladies..

Amidst the group, a familiar figure caught Elara's eye—a girl dressed in the same hue of yellow, her hair cascading in soft curls. Recognition dawned in Elara's eyes, and as if sensing her gaze, the girl turned towards her.

It was Naomi Lockewood, her newfound friend, whose face lit up with joy at the sight of Elara. Adorned in her exquisite blue gown, the fabric hugged her slender frame, while her platinum blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her delicate features. Without her knowing, Elara stood out amidst the crowd, a vision of grace and elegance.

Naomi beckoned Elara to come; she could see her friend’s hesitation but eventually made her way towards her.

"Oh my goodness! You look stunning, Lady Elara," Naomi gushed as she interlocked her arm with Elara's.—"Mother! This is Lady Elara Whitmore, the daughter of Grand Duke and Duchess Whitmore."

Mrs. Lockewood's eyes widened upon recognizing the lady beside her daughter. "My word, get your arms off of her, Naomi! It is impolite to treat Lady Elara Whitmore with such behavior," she chided her daughter.

Naomi simply tightened her hold on Elara. "Don’t worry, we have grown close, mother!"

Mrs. Lockewood shifted her gaze from her stubborn daughter to Elara, her worries melting as Elara giggled at their mother-and-daughter interaction.

Elara met Mrs. Lockewood's concerned eyes. "It's alright, Mrs. Lockewood. I'm glad Lady Naomi has taken me as her friend."

***

Amidst the crowded hall, Elara and Lady Naomi engaged in conversation. Lady Naomi, the social butterfly that she was, leaned in to whisper the latest gossip into Elara’s ear.

“Have you heard about the royal matchmaking?” Naomi began, her voice hushed yet filled with excitement.

Elara shook her head, intrigued. “No, what is it?”

Naomi glanced around, ensuring no one was eavesdropping. “Prince Sebastian is being pushed to marry Lady Isadora, the daughter of Duke Ashford. Her father is quite eager for the match, and I’m thinking he seeks to strengthen his influence at court.”

Elara’s eyes widened in surprise. “But that’s not all,” Naomi continued, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a rumor that Lady Isadora has been having an affair with one of her escorts.”

Naomi pulled back from Elara, noting her friend's expression. "Only a few housemaids know, and how I came across this information... well, let’s just say I have my ways."

Naomi winked at Elara, who chuckled in return. However, her amusement quickly faded as her gaze landed on Lady Isadora, who had just wrapped her arm around Prince Sebastian’s.

Elara’s breath caught, warmth creeping up her neck as she watched them, fingers tightening around the folds of her dress. Lady Isadora leaned in close to the prince, her laughter ringing out in a way that seemed far too intimate. The sight stirred a swirl of emotions within Elara—surprise, curiosity, and a tinge of jealousy. She furrowed her brows, trying to make sense of the conflicting feelings coursing through her.

Naomi's eyes followed Elara’s gaze. “Ah, yes. That’s the lady I mentioned. Quite the spectacle, isn’t it? Their engagement is just a rumor for now, but the way she clings to him, it’s as if they’re already an item.”

Elara nodded, her mind racing. If the rumors about Lady Isadora’s affair were true, it would complicate matters even further. She looked back at Naomi, who seemed to notice the change in Elara's demeanor.

“Are you alright, Elara?” Naomi asked gently.

Elara took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… trying to take it all in.”

Naomi offered a reassuring smile. “Well, if you need any more insider gossip or a friendly ear, you know where to find me.” She patted Elara’s shoulder before walking back to her mother.

“I’ll talk to you later, I saw my mother waving me over!” Naomi hollered behind her shoulders.

Elara managed a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the ballroom. The crowd swirled around her, the music and laughter creating a vibrant, yet overwhelming atmosphere.

***

As the evening progressed and the night deepened, Elara finally reunited with her parents—or rather, just her mother. Duchess Whitmore hurried toward her, their eyes meeting with relief.

“I’m so sorry, my dearest Elara,” Duchess Whitmore said, enveloping her daughter in a warm embrace.

“It’s quite alright, Mother,” Elara replied, scanning the room for her father. “But where is Father?”

With a tender gaze, Duchess Whitmore stepped back slightly and looked into Elara’s concerned eyes. “Your father fell ill after a long day and has developed a fever. Unfortunately, he’s unable to join us this evening.”

Elara’s worry deepened as she glanced around, her gaze returning to her mother.

“Mother, if Father is sick, I’d like to go home and be with him. I’m sure he needs me.”

Duchess Whitmore’s expression softened, but she shook her head gently. “Oh, Elara, I understand your concern, but tonight is important for you to make connections and enjoy yourself. It’s your chance to mingle and be seen. We’ve worked hard to ensure you make a good impression.”

Elara sighed, her frustration evident. “But Mother, I’ve already socialized. I spent time with Lady Naomi, and she’s been very kind. Look over there.” Elara pointed toward the ballroom, where Lady Naomi was gracefully dancing with a partner. “She’s busy now, and I don’t see any point in staying when Father is at home unwell.”

Duchess Whitmore studied her daughter’s earnest face and sighed. “I understand how you feel, dear. But please, stay just a little while longer. Socializing with others will benefit you in ways you might not see right now.”

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Elara’s shoulders drooped slightly, but she nodded, conceding. “Alright, Mother. I’ll stay for a bit longer. But please, if there’s any update on Father, let me know.”

Duchess Whitmore smiled gratefully and patted Elara’s hand. “Of course, my dear. Thank you for understanding.”

“Dear, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’d like to greet my close acquaintances,” Duchess Whitmore continued, tilting her head toward a group of women behind Elara.

Without looking, Elara replied, “Yes, Mother. I’ll just be here.”

As Duchess Whitmore walked away, Elara stood by herself, her thoughts divided between her father’s condition and the evening’s festivities. She glanced back at Lady Naomi, who continued to dance, and let out a deep breath.

“Why such a long face, beautiful lady?” a voice she didn’t recognize said from her right.

Elara turned to see a young man dressed in a sharp black tailcoat. His green eyes seemed to study her gently, and as he tilted his head, a few blonde locks fell across his forehead, giving him a slightly carefree appearance.

“Oh… well, it is nothing to be concerned about,” she replied with a polite smile.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair to sweep the locks back. “Surely, someone like you has little reason to be troubled at an event like this. Allow me to introduce myself—I’m Lord Adrian Hawthorne, son of Viscount Hawthorne.” He executed a small, practiced bow, his smile both charming and a touch mischievous.

“Elara Whitmore,” she replied with a curtsy.

“Miss Whitmore,” he said, straightening up, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. But I must say, your expression tells a different story than your words. Something weighs on your mind.”

Elara glanced away briefly, unsure of how to respond. “You’re quite observant, Lord Hawthorne. But I assure you, it’s nothing that should dampen this splendid evening.”

Adrian smiled, his green eyes twinkling. “Ah, let me guess—you’re thinking about that remarkable garden tea party last month?”

Elara blinked, caught off guard. “The garden tea party?”

“Yes, the one with Prince Sebastian,” Adrian pressed, his tone light but with a clear undercurrent of curiosity. “You both disappeared for quite some time. I couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you were up to.”

Elara’s smile faltered slightly, though she quickly regained her composure. “Lord Hawthorne, I don’t believe the Prince’s affairs, or mine, are topics for idle gossip.”

Adrian raised his hands in mock surrender. “I meant no harm, of course. Only a curious observation. Still, one must admit, it’s intriguing to imagine the future king taking a particular interest in someone so…” He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over her. “…captivating.”

Elara stiffened at his forwardness but maintained her civility. “Your imagination does you credit, Lord Hawthorne. But I assure you, the Prince is as courteous to me as he is to anyone else.”

Adrian smirked, clearly unconvinced but choosing to press no further. Instead, he extended his hand toward her. “Very well, Miss Whitmore. Let us leave speculation behind. May I have the honor of a dance?”

Before Elara could respond, a familiar voice interjected from behind her.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Prince Sebastian, stepping into view with an unmistakable air of authority. His golden eyes flicked toward Adrian briefly before settling on Elara. “Miss Whitmore has already promised this dance to me.”

Adrian’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, bowing slightly to the Prince. “Ah, Your Highness. Of course. I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your plans.”

Sebastian gave a polite, tight smile. “I appreciate your understanding, Lord Hawthorne.”

Elara, caught between the two, felt her cheeks warm but managed to offer a faint smile. “Thank you for the kind offer, Lord Hawthorne, but as His Highness said, I am already spoken for in this dance.”

Adrian straightened, his smile more forced now. “Of course. Another time, perhaps.” With a bow, he retreated into the crowd.

Sebastian turned to Elara, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

Though her emotions remained a tangled web, she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor.

***

“Why are you doing this, Your Highness?” Elara whispered as they walked to the dance floor, her heart beating faster with each step.

Sebastian glanced at her, his expression calm but amused. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. “I thought you might need rescuing. You looked uncomfortable,” he replied casually.

They stopped near the edge of the dance floor, and he turned to face her. With practiced ease, Sebastian placed his right hand gently on her upper back, his touch steady and reassuring. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and warm in her ear. “Was I wrong?”

Elara’s breath hitched at the closeness, the subtle heat of his presence sending a shiver down her spine. “No, you were right,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

The music began, and they moved into the first steps of the dance. Elara’s nerves immediately betrayed her—her movements were stiff, and her timing faltered.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she accidentally stepped on his foot.

Sebastian chuckled softly, his laugh resonating between them. “It’s alright, Lady Elara. Relax. You’re too tense.”

She tried, but it only made her more flustered. A moment later, she stepped on his foot again.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “You’re giving my shoes some printed characters.”

Despite herself, Elara couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though her nervousness only grew when she noticed him holding her hand tightly. The warmth of his touch made her aware of the slight dampness of her palm.

“Your Highness,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with mortification, “please don’t hold my hand so tightly. It’s—it’s sweaty.”

Sebastian smiled, his grip unwavering. “If I let go, you might fall. And that,” he said, his voice laced with humor, “would be far more embarrassing, wouldn’t it?”

Elara bit her lip, both exasperated and flustered. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered under her breath, earning another soft chuckle from him.

They continued to dance, Elara gradually finding her rhythm. Yet her mind wandered back to the labyrinth and the whispers she had overheard since. Summoning her courage, she finally spoke.

“Your Highness,” she began hesitantly, “about that day in the labyrinth during the tea party…”

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to hers, curiosity evident in his expression. “What about it?”

“There have been… rumors,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “People saw us leaving together. I’m concerned I’ve ruined your reputation, or worse, jeopardized your potential engagement to Lady Isadora.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed slightly, though his demeanor remained calm. “Is that what’s been troubling you?”

“Yes,” Elara admitted, lowering her eyes. “Lady Isadora is admired by many, and I—”

“Lady Isadora is irrelevant to this conversation,” he interrupted gently but firmly. “And my reputation? Lady Elara, if a rumor about a simple walk through a labyrinth is enough to ruin it, then perhaps my reputation wasn’t strong to begin with.”

“But—”

He tightened his hold on her hand ever so slightly, grounding her. “No ‘but,’” he said, his voice softening. “You worry too much. Let others say what they will. You, are not responsible for my reputation nor my future.”

His words left her momentarily speechless, her heart fluttering in a way she wasn’t sure she liked—or understood. They continued their dance, and while her steps remained slightly clumsy, she found herself steadied by the strength of his hold and the quiet reassurance in his gaze.

For the first time that evening, she let herself breathe.

***

As the music drew to its final note, their steps slowed until their dance came to a halt. Elara let out a low breath, scarcely believing she had just danced with a prince.

“Well then, Lady Elara,” Sebastian said with a warm smile, holding out his hand once more.

Elara instinctively placed her hand in his, and to her surprise, he leaned forward to press a light kiss to her knuckles. “It was a delightful dance. You’ve kept me thoroughly entertained.”

Elara’s cheeks warmed, though she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “You’re too kind, Your Highness. Thank you for your patience with my clumsiness.”

Sebastian chuckled softly, the corner of his eyes wrinkled from amusement. “Nonsense. You did wonderfully, and I can think of no better partner for tonight.”

She lowered her gaze, her heart fluttering. “Thank you for saying so,” she murmured.

As he released her hand, he lingered for just a moment, his gaze steady and kind. “I’ll see you around, Lady Elara.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Thank you again for the dance,” she replied, dipping into a deep curtsy in an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks and racing heart.

When she straightened, Sebastian had already turned away, heading back toward Lady Isadora. Elara’s eyes followed him briefly before she noticed the Lady herself—watching her.

Lady Isadora’s gaze was steady and unreadable, her expression cool and composed as though she were appraising Elara from afar. There was no overt hostility, yet something in that look made Elara feel as if she were being measured against an invisible standard.

Elara quickly averted her eyes and turned away, her pulse quickening for an entirely different reason. She hurried toward the nearest balcony, eager for a moment to collect herself.

As she stepped into the cool night air, her mind replayed the dance, Sebastian’s laughter, and the lingering warmth of his hand. Her heart skipped a beat, and somewhere inside the ballroom, another heart might have done the same.