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Chapter One
Seraphina
“But it is not thus easy to steer a right course amidst such powerful and opposite tides; all I can do is to take example by the virtues of those with whom I converse, and avoid, as much as possible, the imitation of their faults.” – Evelina
It was the third time Lady Seraphina Hawthorne had read the book Evelina by Frances Burney. She consumed the pages at a rate that she had not been able to replicate with another tome, much to her mother’s chagrin. It was certainly not the sort of book that Seraphina was supposed to be reading. The novel, filled with scandalous romance and societal intrigue, was considered somewhat controversial for a lady of her stature. However, Seraphina’s inquisitive mind and thirst for adventure led her to explore literature that went beyond the boundaries of conventional societal norms.
As she lost herself in the vivid descriptions and captivating storylines, Seraphina could not help relating to the struggles of the novel’s protagonist. Evelina’s journey of self-discovery and navigating the treacherous waters of high society resonated with Seraphina’s own experiences.
Or, perhaps it was merely her own ego that made her feel that way. It was not as if she had any scandalous romances to compare experiences. No, Seraphina had yet to have a man make her feel half as enthralled as the written word was capable of doing. Lost in the world of words, she could momentarily forget the weight of her own secrets and the expectations placed upon her. Seraphina was acutely aware that she was not like other young ladies of her station, her lineage concealed under a carefully constructed facade. The weight of that hidden truth burdened her soul, creating a perpetual sense of isolation and vulnerability.
Yet within the pages of Evelina, she found moments of respite and a glimmer of hope. It was as if the words whispered to her, reminding her she was not alone in her struggles. Seraphina longed for a life where she could shed the shackles of societal expectations and embrace her true self, unencumbered by the secrets that bound her. Perhaps, if she were honest with herself, she wished she could be more like Evelina.
Sunlight streamed through the ornate stained-glass windows, casting colourful patterns on the rows of books in the family library. It was her favourite room in the house. But Seraphina knew her momentary escape was fleeting. Soon, she would be thrust back into the world of ballrooms, high society, and the expectations placed upon her as the daughter of the Earl of Emberdale.
As if on cue, Seraphina’s peaceful reading was interrupted by the entrance of her mother, Lady Lillian Hawthorne, Countess of Emberdale. Lillian’s eyes held a glimmer of concern as she joined Seraphina and sat beside her.
“Seraphina, my dear,” Lillian began, her voice gentle but tinged with a hint of unease. “I wanted to talk to you about the upcoming Season. It will be your third, and I cannot help feeling a modicum of worry.”
Here came the lecture. For the past three years, Mother had given her the same lecture before the first ball of the season in one form or another. Granted, last year’s lecture was tinged with desperation for her daughter to marry, and this year was likely to be downright frantic.
Seraphina closed her book. “What worries you, Mother?”
Lillian glanced around the room as if checking for prying ears before continuing. She held her narrow shoulders bunched high and her anxiety clear in her anxious posture as she shifted uncomfortably on the bench beside Seraphina. “My dear, you are known as the ‘Unattainable Rose’ of the ton. You are admired by many, but it seems that suitors are hesitant to approach you. I fear they may believe you to be unapproachable or uninterested in marriage.”
Seraphina sighed softly, a hint of frustration tugging at her features as her grip tightened on the book in her hands. It was not as if she had chosen to be the rose of anything. “I understand, Mother. But it is not as if I intentionally repel potential suitors. I simply have not found someone who sparks my interest or captures my heart.”
Among other things.
Lillian reached out and gently placed a hand on Seraphina’s, her touch comforting. “I know, my dear. And it is perfectly alright to be selective. But I worry that the rumours and speculations surrounding your … aloofness might hinder your chances of finding true happiness.”
Seraphina acknowledged her mother’s words with a nod, her heart fluttering in apprehension. The silent pressure conveyed by Lillian’s reminder was all too familiar.
“I appreciate your guidance, Mother,” Seraphina responded, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “I understand the expectations placed upon me and will do my best to fulfill them. But I also hope to find someone who appreciates me for who I am, someone with whom I can share my passions and dreams.”
Lillian’s eyes softened as she placed a reassuring hand on Seraphina’s arm. “My dear, I want nothing more than your happiness. It is not just about fulfilling societal expectations; it is about finding a partner who sees the true beauty within you and who cherishes your intellect and creativity. I know it is not an easy task, but I believe someone out there will love you for who you are.”
Seraphina could appreciate that her mother was a romantic at heart, but the dreamy version of the marriage mart that her mother appeared to hold was nothing like the reality that Seraphina had been subjected to for the past three years.
It was not as if any of these men would pay her the time of day were they to know who she truly was.
The very same secret that Seraphina was never meant to have found out about would be the exact same thing that would ruin her prospects. All the more logical reason for her to find a husband as quickly as possible. Seraphina’s thumb anxiously tapped against the back of the book in her hand as she nodded to her mother’s request. There was added urgency to the necessity of marriage, she knew. The implication that she was not getting any younger was loud and clear.
She had accidentally learned of her true parentage from an overheard conversation between Lillian and her lady’s maid, Adeline: she was, in fact, Adeline’s biological daughter, not Lillian’s. Lillian’s own daughter had tragically passed away after a complicated childbirth.
The weight of this secret has burdened Seraphina ever since. Fear of rejection and abandonment had become a constant companion, fuelling her aloofness and distant demeanour. The knowledge that her true lineage remained a closely guarded secret gnawed at her heart, creating an invisible barrier between her and the outside world. How could she ever allow herself to be vulnerable when the truth of her birth could potentially shatter the fragile acceptance she had found in the noble world? The love and care bestowed upon her by Lord Philip Hawthorne, the Earl of Emberdale, and Lady Emberdale had provided her with a privileged life, but the knowledge of her true lineage haunted her every step. She yearned for connection, for someone who would see past the facade she had meticulously constructed and love her for the person she truly was.
If she were never meant to know this secret of her identity, how could she entrust her worries to the woman who raised her?
“Besides, it shall be fun, will it not?” Lilian gushed and leaned in closer to her daughter. “Dancing, a little wine, the soiree hosted by the Duchess of Windermere’s only two days away, so you ought to have plenty to look forward to!”
Seraphina forced a smile, but it felt hollow. “Mama, I—”
Their conversation was curtailed by the butler’s announcement of arriving guests. “Presenting Lady Diana Hamilton, accompanied by her daughter.”
Seraphina’s heart soared at the announcement. She was saved. Elizabeth, her dearest friend, was here to visit with her mother, Diana, which meant she would have a reprieve from such uncomfortable conversations, if only for a short while.
The women rose from their seats to greet their guests, who were in the middle of what appeared to be a highly animated conversation about the very same event they were just discussing.
“—said that she is going to wear a powder blue. Can you imagine? Repeating the same colour dress from last season?”
“Well, Mother, you know that she does not much mind why people are speaking about her … just so long as she is the centre of all conversation.”
“Quite right. However, you, my daughter, will be in moss as every respectable young woman will favour this year. I have it on good authority that the queen herself is ordering dresses and ribbons in moss.”
“I presume you are speaking of Lady Travers?” Lilian asked with a girlish giggle.
“Could we be truly speaking of anyone else?” Diana, Elizabeth’s mother, added simply. “My daughter had said something about the modist pushing blue dresses. Absolutely not.”
“The colours on the invitation clearly requested pearl and white.” Lilian gasped, suddenly rethinking the entire wardrobe she had planned for Seraphina this year.
Sera, however, could not care less which dress she was to wear. She felt a pang of envy as she watched the easy camaraderie between Elizabeth and Diana, their shared excitement for the social event. Seraphina longed for that connection with her mother, the freedom to share her fears and dreams without the weight of secrets and expectations. Would she ever be able to embrace such moments fully without the constant reminder of her hidden past?
For now, Seraphina played her role, engaging in polite conversation and masking her inner turmoil. She understood the importance of these social events, the dance of courtship and connections that occurred within the glittering ballrooms. But deep down, she yearned for something more—a genuine connection that transcended societal expectations and allowed her to be truly seen and loved for who she was.
Seeing Seraphina’s quiet demeanour, Diana gently nudged her with a smile. “You must be excited about the duchess’s soiree, my dear. It’s a splendid opportunity to showcase your charm and grace. What colour shall you wear?”
“Clearly not blue, My Lady.” Seraphina offered a faint smile in response, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her hidden identity.
“Quite right!” Diana gushed and pulled Lilian into a friendly embrace as the women headed to the parlour to take tea.
Elizabeth hooked her arm in through Seraphina’s and leaned in conspiratorially. “While they discuss dresses, I have to tell you about the real gossip. You are going to absolutely hate it.”
Sera smiled tightly. She could not summon the same thrill she used to get from the same sorts of conversation. Sometimes she worried that she might become jaded by it all. Was it so terrible to hope for more? Something thrilling? Something that would pulsate desire and adrenaline to her very core?
As the teacups clinked and laughter filled the room, Seraphina silently hoped that amidst the glamour and superficiality of the Season, she would find someone who saw past the unattainable facade, someone who would cherish the real Seraphina hidden beneath the mask of the “Unattainable Rose.”
Chapter Two
Tristan
No man in all of London hated ledgers more than Tristan Ashford, Marquess of Aylesbridge. Something about endlessly leering at numbers on a page made his eyes want to cross. A necessary evil, he knew, as there was work to be done, and he was the only person who could do it — but he would be damned if he did not think the old bastard did not leave the books a sodding mess on purpose.
“Impossible,” Tristan muttered for the hundredth time this afternoon as he bitterly hurled another book filled with scribbled, tiny writing back to his desk. Though, the resentment that presently overwhelmed him was only partially because of the improper record keeping and mainly because he loathed his late father with every fibre of his being. Were there another heir, he would have happily passed off all his father’s inherited affairs and the title that came with it.
Tristan sank heavily into the worn leather armchair and glared at the pile of paper on the desk that never seemed to get any smaller, no matter how many days he dedicated to his work. He scrubbed his hands down his face with a sigh. At least the man was dead. That was what really mattered. All this was worth it so long as he had been given the gift of never seeing the bastard again.
As the flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, Tristan’s thoughts drifted back to his childhood—a time filled with fear, pain, and longing for a love he never received. He remembered the icy glares, cutting remarks, and relentless demands that left him feeling inadequate and unwanted. The wounds inflicted upon his young heart had shaped him into the enigmatic, guarded man he had become.
Tristan’s gaze fell upon a portrait of his late mother, her gentle smile a stark contrast to the haunting memories of his father. She had been his beacon of warmth and affection, the one person who had shown him kindness and love amidst the darkness of his childhood. Losing her at the tender age of thirteen had shattered his world, leaving him with a profound fear of emotional vulnerability and a reluctance to trust.
He had spent many years seeking a connection wherever he could. Matters of the heart wholly ignored in favour of pleasures of the flesh. The rakish reputation he had earned for himself had come easily. It was a role he had felt only too easy to slip into. He felt no remorse or shame for how he chose to spend his evenings.
With a sigh, Tristan closed the ledger and leaned back in his chair, his thoughts consumed by the weight of his past. Despite the passage of time, the wounds remained fresh, etched into his very being. In the depths of his solitude, an unspoken desire stirred within him—a longing for something more, something beyond the shallow affairs and scandalous encounters that had come to define him in the eyes of society. Certainly something better than spending his nights here in his late father’s damned office.
He had to get out of here. He could not sit here and wallow, and if he did not put space between himself and the ghosts that haunted this home, he would go insane. Before he could give himself time to talk himself out of leaving and heading into London proper — he left the mess of work to be handled at another time and went to ready himself for his favourite gentlemen’s club.
Sometime after returning to the city, this club started to feel more comfortable to him. He could not name how it had happened, but he felt himself more of a regular here than he had been in his younger years. Drinking here was nearly a habit. One that he should have felt badly about, but he simply did not. It was comfortable. Tristan came, drank, and spent time with his best friend, and then when the night started to dwindle, he would accompany whichever woman he felt was the prettiest to spend some quality time together.
He planned for the same thing this evening. As he arrived, the dimly lit room was filled with laughter and clinking glasses, creating an atmosphere of mischief and revelry. Lord Michael Thorne, Earl of Devon, sat at their regular table in their secluded corner. His friend lifted a glass in his direction the moment they made eye contact with one another, and Tristan headed over. He could not help noticing Michael’s grin and the impish glint of mischief in his eyes.
Whatever the man had planned, at least he had the foresight to have a drink ready for Tristan before he arrived.
“Dare I ask what has you looking so pleased with yourself this evening?” Tristan greeted as he slid into his regular chair. Tristan sipped his whiskey, savouring the smooth warmth that spread through him. He leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Another devilish plan you have concocted, my friend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in anticipation.
“The game is afoot, my friend.” Michael leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper yet brimming with excitement. “Have you heard of Lady Seraphina Hawthorne? The ‘Unattainable Rose’ of the ton?” he asked, a hint of challenge in his tone.
Tristan’s interest was piqued. Lady Seraphina Hawthorne was known for her icy demeanour, a challenge that few men dared to take on. He raised his glass in a silent toast. “Ah, the infamous Lady Seraphina,” he replied, a note of intrigue in his voice. “What audacious plan have you devised this time?”
A mischievous smile played on Michael’s lips as he leaned in closer. “My dear friend, I propose a bet,” he whispered, his eyes glinting with excitement. “I bet you cannot seduce Lady Seraphina and thaw her icy heart.”
Tristan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Seduce Lady Seraphina? The notion was both thrilling and daunting. Lady Seraphina had built a reputation for being unapproachable, a challenge that had enticed many but remained unconquered. Tristan’s mind raced with possibilities, his curiosity piqued by the daring proposition.
“And what do I gain if I succeed?” Tristan asked, his voice laced with amusement.
Michael leaned back, a sly smile on his lips. “If you manage to capture the heart of the unattainable Lady Seraphina, I shall concede defeat and forever refer to you as the ‘Master of Seduction.’”
Tristan chuckled, the challenge igniting a fire within him. He had always been drawn to the thrill of conquest, but the idea of breaking down Lady Seraphina’s defences intrigued him like no other. Tristan leaned back against the plush velvet upholstery of the booth, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he exchanged a knowing glance with Michael. The flicker of excitement danced in his eyes as he spoke, his voice laced with a mischievous tone.
Perhaps this was exactly the sort of distraction that he so desperately needed.
“Michael, my dear friend, we are embarking on a venture that will require equal parts finesse and charm,” Tristan began, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Lady Seraphina Hawthorne, the elusive beauty known as the ‘Unattainable Rose,’ has proven to be a formidable challenge.”
Michael chuckled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Indeed, Tristan. But fear not, for we possess the audacity and wit to overcome this challenge. We must ensnare her heart and captivate her mind.”
Tristan nodded, his gaze fixed on a distant point. “Aye, Michael. Lady Seraphina is no ordinary woman. She possesses intellect and discernment that surpasses the majority of the ton. The trick will be doing so in a way that she does not see coming before we have even begun. I have heard a great many tales of men with wounded pride and their tails tucked firmly between their legs after an evening with her.”
Michael leaned forward, his voice low and conspiratorial. “But let us not forget the power of passion, my friend. Lady Seraphina may be aloof and reserved, but I believe a flame within her is waiting to be ignited. We must kindle that fire.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Michael’s suggestion. “Passion, you say? How do we go about stoking those embers?”
Michael smirked, his eyes glinting. “Through subtle gestures, heartfelt compliments, and unwavering attention. Of course. How else would we do it? She is still a woman, just like any other. We must make her feel desired and adored, Tristan. Show her that we see beyond the ’Unattainable Rose’ facade and appreciate the woman within. Allow her to be vulnerable.”
Tristan’s lips curved into a confident smile. “Very well, Michael. Let the games begin. We shall woo Lady Seraphina with our intellect, charm, and undeniable allure. And when the time is right, we shall unleash the full force of our passion upon her, leaving her no choice but to surrender.”
“I knew you were the right man for this particular job. A challenge to top all others! A bet to end all bets!” Michael gloated as he lifted his nearly empty glass. His words started to slur together, but he was no less charismatic because of it.
Tristan leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, as his eyes flickered with curiosity and apprehension. He took a sip before finally posing the question lingering in his mind. “And if I lose this bet of yours, Michael? What then?”
Michael’s smile widened as he considered the possibility. “Ah, my dear friend, if you should find yourself on the losing end, the consequences will be quite entertaining, I assure you.” He leaned forward, his voice laced with playful taunting. “You shall have to don the mantle of a hopeless romantic, writing the most eloquent of love letters and serenading Lady Seraphina beneath her window in the moonlight for all to see.”
Tristan scoffed, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Serenading? Surely you jest.”
But Michael’s expression turned serious as he continued, his tone filled with genuine conviction. “No, my friend, I speak only the truth. You shall have to express your deepest emotions and lay bare your heart, risking rejection and exposing the vulnerable side of your nature. It will be a test of your mettle, a challenge to overcome your fear of emotional vulnerability.”
Tristan’s lips curved into a wry smile, a hint of determination gleaming in his eyes. “Very well, if it comes to that, I shall embrace the role of the hopeless romantic. But mark my words, Michael, I intend to win this bet and prove that I am more than capable of capturing Lady Seraphina’s heart.”
The two friends clinked their glasses together, sealing their pact to conquer the heart of the enigmatic Lady Seraphina Hawthorne. Their plan was set in motion, and they were determined to succeed where others had faltered.
“The Lord’s Icy Temptress” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Seraphina Hawthorne, daughter of the Earl of Emberdale, is hailed as the “Unattainable Rose”. Adored by society for her beauty and intellect, she guards a secret that could shatter her carefully constructed world forever. Born as the daughter of a maid but raised as nobility, Seraphina’s heart is torn between her lineage and the life she’s known. However, as her third Season unfurls, her encounter with the rakish Marquess of Aylesbridge challenges her position as the ton’s cherished diamond. Helpless before the allure of his scandalous seduction, her very identity stands on the precipice of transformation.
Will she succumb to her desires that could tarnish her reputation?
Tristan Ashford is the captivating Marquess of Aylesbridge, whose charismatic veneer veils a history etched with scars of maltreatment. His reputation as a roguish libertine conceals the fortress of emotions he’s erected to safeguard his heart. When destiny aligns his path with Seraphina, sparks fly, and a tantalizing waltz of pursuit and evasion begins. Amidst Tristan’s concealed affection for literature and Seraphina’s expressive pursuits, a lustful bond weaves its tendrils, daring him to dismantle the barricades he has so meticulously built.
Will Tristan find the strength to unveil his scars and open his heart to the possibility of love?
In a daring journey, Seraphina and Tristan defy conventions and entangle fates. As hidden truths echo, weaving their destinies anew, Seraphina’s secret identity and Tristan’s roguish past cast their shadows upon their burning romance. Trapped in the intoxicating vortex binding the “Unattainable Rose” and the enigmatic Marquess, they must confront the silhouettes that menace to rupture them asunder. Can their sizzling love last and embrace their true selves? Or will their bewitching courtship draw them into a life of misery and fear?
“The Lord’s Icy Temptress” is a historical romance novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Lust and Longing of the Ton", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello there, my dear readers. I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! I will be waiting for your comments. Thank you! 🙂