Page 36

“Yes, Lady Anna Ashford seems to be a dear friend to Thea.” Alex was glad Thea had found Lady Ashford’s support and friendship, but he couldn’t shake the sense that something was amiss.

The hairs on his neck pricked up again, just like they had when he’d first arrived in London and met the Earl of Langley at his house.

He looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see anything suspicious.

The ballroom hummed with life, the swirls of gowns and coats forming a swirling chaos of movement. Alex gripped the edge of the window frame, his eyes scanning the room with precise efficiency. Somewhere among the sea of faces were the Lyndons. And her.

“Stan,” Alex said tightly, turning only slightly to where his brother lingered near the refreshment table. “Where are the Lyndons?”

Stan’s gaze slid over him, cool and calculating. He took an unhurried sip of champagne. “Why?”

“You know why.” Alex’s chest tightened. His fists strained at his sides, and he forced himself to relax his fingers, inch by inch. “Where are they?”

Stan arched a brow and set down his glass. “You’ve been brooding over them since you arrived in London. What do you plan to do when you see them? Better still, how do you plan to manage the fallout?”

“I didn’t ask for your commentary. Just tell me if you’ve seen them.”

“I have.” Stan’s jaw tensed. “But before you go charging ahead and saying something foolish, you should consider carefully who you’re dealing with.

” He glanced pointedly across the room. “ Lyndon Fleets and Transportation aren’t just any business, Alex.

They’re the gateway—our gateway—to expanding Transylvania’s presence in Europe. ”

“I’m aware,” Alex growled. He pressed his palm against the windowsill, the cool wood a meager relief against the heat building in his chest. “That’s why I’m handling this quietly. You don’t need to—”

“Handle what, exactly?” Stan cut him off, his voice razor-sharp.

“You’ve got two hours to explain to Mr. Lyndon why you’re reneging on a perfectly advantageous alliance.

Two hours to convince him not to bury us when he’s the only one capable of transporting gold from the mines to anywhere that matters.

And, most importantly, two hours to decide what we’ll do about von List if he gets wind of this.

What if he simply sides with the Lyndons—”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know! He always finds a corrupt way and gets away with it. And if he does, then he’s not just stealing the gold from our mines but shipping it quickly and efficiently all over Europe.”

The threat hit Alex like a blow to the gut, although he already felt down. He turned fully to face Stan, his expression faltering for just a moment. “von List isn’t something I can fix tonight.”

“No, he’s not. Just be warned, Alex—this could go two ways: Either von List works with the Lyndons to deplete all our natural resources and riches or, if von List keeps siphoning gold from the mines, the entire operation collapses.

And if the mines collapse, everything crumbles—starting with Lyndon’s transportation contracts.

So, you’d be the one who ruined their daughter’s prospects and their business.

Look around you, Alex. They are well-connected. All England would turn against us.”

Alex’s hands flexed at his sides. He inhaled deeply through his nose, the scents of punch and an overpowering mix of the guests’ perfumes clogging his senses. “I know all this,” he said, his tone clipped. “And still—there’s more than one way to save this.”

Stan’s laugh was low and humorless. “Is that what you tell yourself? That risking the only stable alliance we have is a repositioning of priorities. Not exactly comforting.”

Alex’s throat tightened. He hated Stan’s calm, logical tone when his own thoughts were a mess of guilt, panic, and simmering anger.

Stan didn’t need to understand. No one needed to understand.

He only had to act. Quickly. His heartbeat drummed heavily in his ears, drowning out the din of the ballroom.

Dancers spun gracefully out of sync with his thoughts.

“It’s not just about the mines,” Alex said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “Father always said you have to see the big picture. The bigger arrangement.”

“And what picture do you see tonight?” Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “A collapse? A gamble? Or just one reckless fantasy that will cost us everything?”

Alex met his brother’s gaze. Stan’s eyes were steady, unyielding, but Alex’s resolve hardened in kind. “No. It’s not a collapse. It’s a shift. A better foundation, even if it looks messy at first.”

Stan sighed, shaking his head. “Miss Lyndon and her father aren’t just ‘messy,’ Alex. They are the lynchpins of this arrangement. If you—”

“I know,” Alex snapped.

Stan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you? Because all I see is someone prioritizing his heart over his people. If you can’t separate the two, you have no business leading anything.”

Alex’s chest burned, a corrosive mix of frustration and truth tearing at him.

He glanced across the ballroom again, his eyes moving urgently from one face to another.

He needed to find the Lyndons. He needed to find her.

And then what? He’d rehearsed his words a hundred times, but none of them seemed adequate now.

“Enough,” he said finally, though it sounded more like a plea than an order. “I don’t have time for this.”

Stan’s gaze lingered for a beat too long before he stepped back, smoothing his waistcoat. “Then I suggest you make it count, brother. Because two hours isn’t nearly enough time to clean up the kind of mess you’re about to make.”

“I’m going to make this right.” Although I don’t know how. “If I marry for love, I can be stronger for our family. And we will be stronger against anything that our enemies send our way, von List or whoever will come next.”

Stan sighed but Alex’s mind was already elsewhere, splitting in too many directions at once.

He surveyed the room, forcing himself to focus.

The distant strains of the orchestra filled his ears, but they felt like static.

Somewhere in the crowd was Miss Lyndon. Somewhere in London was the woman he was meant to spend his life with—and somewhere among the tightly wound facades and carefully placed smiles was the woman he couldn’t.

Less than two hours now. He straightened his shoulders, trying to drown out the gnawing guilt in his gut and the cold, calculating voice of his brother.

Whatever the fallout, he would face it. After all, love—real love—wasn’t supposed to be easy.

But tonight, it felt like a battlefield where every choice could mean the difference between ruin and redemption.

His mind raced, caught between disbelief and the undeniable recognition that blasted through him.

“Ah, Linsey has arrived,” Stan said, his tone casual as he gestured subtly toward the tall man bowing to a woman on the dance floor. “You met him at Langley’s, remember? We didn’t get to talk much, but it’s worth noting he owns some of the finest horses in England.”

“I remember,” Alex replied curtly, his jaw tightening. His brother’s words barely registered. Horses didn’t matter. Linsey didn’t matter. Nothing mattered outside the fact that something about the scene unfolding on the dance floor set his nerves humming in warning.

“Just saying,” Stan continued, with a flick of his wrist. “With your level of distraction lately, one never knows.”

But Alex was no longer listening. His eyes had locked on the couple as Linsey straightened and extended his hand, claiming a dance.

The woman moved with poise, her figure draped in flowing fabric, the pearls on her gown catching the low light.

He could only see her in profile as Linsey led her into the center of the room, the crowd shifting like waves around them.

Something clawed at the edges of Alex’s awareness, faint and insistent. The slope of her neck, the way her hand rested lightly in Linsey’s—it all felt too familiar. His pulse started to race even before he could articulate why. He blinked, willing the sensation away, but it only grew.

No, he thought. It can’t be.

His fingers curled into his palms, the air thickening around him as he waited for her to turn just enough.

The music swelled, and a cluster of spectators blocked part of his view.

His breath quickened, chest tightening, the rational part of his mind clinging to the impossibility of what he suspected. And yet…

When she finally turned, even slightly, his heart stopped. It was like being struck, the impact reverberating through his chest as her face came into full view.

Sera.

It was her. There was no room for doubt now, no chance for his mind to reason it away.

Her hair wasn’t loose, as he so often saw it in his memories, but piled in elegant curls.

Her gown wasn’t the simple daywear he’d associated with her, but an elaborate ensemble more befitting of a princess.

And yet it was her all the same. His Sera.

Time seemed to warp, the din of the ballroom fading into a muffled hum.

Every muscle in his body locked as he followed her movements with his gaze—graceful, practiced, altogether foreign.

This Sera wasn’t the woman he’d held in his arms as they walked along the cliffs of Cornwall, laughing at the unruliness of her wind-swept hair.

She wasn’t the one who whispered her fears and dreams to him when no one else could understand.

This Sera was a stranger. Yet, she wasn’t.

Alex’s stomach churned as Linsey twirled her, a polished smile on his face. The earl led her with a natural confidence, and she followed with equal ease, her expression unreadable. How could she be here? And why was she with him?

“She shouldn’t—” The words barely escaped his lips, no louder than a breath. He forced himself to unclench his fists, though his nails had already bitten into his palms. Pain spiked briefly before another wave of disbelief hit.

A hundred questions cut through Alex’s mind like shards of glass, each one more disorienting than the last. Why hadn’t she told him? Why was she at this ball? Would she still come to Vauxhall? And most pressing of all—was this his love he’d risk his family’s safety and his country’s future for?

The thought tightened a noose around his chest.

Linsey leaned in closer, murmuring something that made Sera glance down, her lips pressing into a tight, polite smile. Whatever the earl had said, Alex couldn’t hear it, and he hated that.

“Alex?” Stan’s voice broke through the haze. He must have been speaking for some time, but the words were a blur of background noise.

Alex shook his head slightly, his lips parting but no sound emerged. He wanted to look away, to reclaim control of his scattered thoughts, but his body betrayed him. His gaze remained fixed on her, every movement of hers intertwining with the memories of all the moments they had shared.

And still, she was unreachable.

The orchestra’s crescendo seemed to mock him, matching the chaotic rhythm of his heart.

“Linsey is quite the dancer,” Stan remarked, oblivious to Alex’s inner turmoil. “They must be very good friends for him to leave his fiancée looking on, I’d say. What do you—”

“Enough!”

Alex clutched at his chest, his eyes locked on Sera as she moved onto the dance floor with the earl. Their steps were steady, each movement practiced and perfectly timed. It was as if she’d been made for the dance floor.

Sera.

She was truly here.

How? But then, they never told each other their full identities.

They never questioned each other’s lives.

They just… accepted.

He watched them dance, unable to tear his gaze away.

The cotillion, with its lively pace, seemed to slow around them, each turn and spin emphasizing the undeniable connection between Sera and her partner.

Alex’s mind reeled. Who was she to be friends with the earl?

Would she leave the ball, like him, in time to meet at Vauxhall? He didn’t know how he should feel.

Memories of Cornwall flooded his mind—days spent by the sea, laughter carried on the wind, and the brightness of her smile that had become his refuge.

Those moments now felt like a distant dream.

He felt as if the very ground beneath him had shifted, leaving him adrift in a world where everything he had believed was suddenly uncertain.

You didn’t tell her either.

She didn’t know he was a prince.

Right.

She. Didn’t. Know.

Stan’s voice sliced through his thoughts, a lifeline amid the chaos. “We should find the Lyndons before it’s too late for you.”

He nodded mechanically, though every fiber of his being screamed otherwise. How could he be all right when the woman he loved was in the arms of another? He forced himself to stay composed, even as his heart shattered with each beat.

“You’re nodding but not moving,” Stan said. “Who’s the woman you’re staring at?”

Alex wanted to tell his brother, but he couldn’t find the words.

His feet were rooted to the spot, watching as the earl and Sera shared a laugh. The realization settled over him, heavy and inescapable. He had lost her. Or perhaps he had never truly had her to begin with.

Was this a dream? Would he wake up if he pinched himself?

The room buzzed with the energy of the ball, yet Alex felt detached from it all, a spectator in his own life. He longed to approach her, to call her name aloud, to demand answers to the sudden questions that tormented him. She was so close, yet impossibly distant.

But Stan was right.

He could do nothing before he ended his engagement. He certainly couldn’t approach Sera to demand anything while still engaged.

“Yes, let’s find the Lyndons.”