My Secret Crush Ignored Me For Three Years — Until I Let Another Man Court Me

Part 1

I spent three years desperately trying to get the attention of the most infuriating man in England.

William, the Duke of Meridale, was practically a professional flirt.

He composed dreadful poetry for other women, danced with every lady in the ballroom, and treated me like just another passing acquaintance.

I had dropped subtle hints, arranged coincidental meetings, and done everything short of proposing to him myself.

My best friend Eleanor constantly reminded me that he was simply not the marrying kind.

Watching him laugh with Lady Charlotte from across the Ashford House ballroom, my heart gave that familiar, pathetic squeeze.

I needed to make him realize what he was missing.

When Lord Nathaniel approached me for a dance that evening, an idea struck with absolute clarity.

Nathaniel was handsome, wealthy, and notoriously vain.

Accepting his public attentions would guarantee that all of society noticed.

If William refused to look at me on my own, perhaps he would finally notice me on another man’s arm.

I smiled at Nathaniel, deliberately ignoring Eleanor’s warning glare, and accepted his invitation to his mother’s upcoming dinner party.

It was a reckless gamble, using one man’s vanity to provoke another man’s jealousy.

But I was tired of being invisible.

Friday evening arrived with unseasonable warmth, and I spent hours preparing.

My maid arranged my hair in an elaborate style, securing intricate curls around my face.

I wore a gown of deep emerald silk that deliberately brought out the amber flecks in my eyes.

My chaperone, Mrs. Davies, offered a knowing twinkle as we descended the stairs to meet Nathaniel’s carriage.

The dinner party was larger than expected, filling the magnificent dining room with thirty guests.

My breath caught the moment I stepped inside.

William stood near the tall windows, looking absolutely magnificent in his impeccable evening attire.

He turned, his dark eyes finding mine across the crowded room.

The effect was immediate and electric.

His gaze swept over my face, dropping to where my hand rested securely on Nathaniel’s arm.

Something dangerous flashed in his expression.

His jaw tightened imperceptibly, and the wine glass in his hand stilled halfway to his lips.

Nathaniel guided me further into the room, oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature.

Within moments, William materialized before us with the predatory grace of a wolf.

His tone was perfectly pleasant, but his eyes were entirely cold.

He directed a pointed comment at Nathaniel, questioning our sudden acquaintance.

Nathaniel held his ground, bowing exactly as deep as protocol required and not an inch more.

William turned his attention back to me, his voice deceptively casual as he asked the question that hung in the air like a blade.

He wanted to know exactly when I had acquired a suitor.

I met his gaze steadily, my heart hammering against my ribs as triumph sang through my veins.

I told him I had simply decided to accept the attentions of a gentleman who actually demonstrated genuine interest.

Pure, undisguised jealousy flared in William’s eyes.

His hand tightened around his crystal glass so forcefully I expected it to shatter right there.

He offered a clipped, furious wish for us to enjoy our evening before turning and walking away with barely leashed rage.

For the next three weeks, my life became a chaotic blur of theatrical courtship and constant surveillance.

Nathaniel pursued me with enthusiastic dedication, sending daily bouquets and composing atrocious sonnets.

Everywhere we went, William seemed to materialize out of thin air like a conjured spirit.

During a stroll through the rose gardens, William emerged from behind a large topiary, claiming a sudden, intense interest in horticulture despite knowing absolutely nothing about flowers.

At the theater, he purchased the box immediately adjacent to ours.

During a carriage ride in the park, he coincidentally rode past at the exact moment Nathaniel stopped to point out the scenery.

He was practically stalking us.

He glared at Nathaniel as though the poor man had committed high treason.

He monopolized my attention whenever protocol allowed, yet he never actually declared his own intentions.

It was maddening.

I had wanted to provoke a reaction, but I found my own feelings becoming entirely tangled in the web I had woven.

Using Nathaniel felt increasingly wrong, especially since the vain gentleman treated me with nothing but courtesy.

The situation finally reached its breaking point at a crowded autumn tea party.

Nathaniel guided me to a quiet settee near the windows, separating us from the main crowd.

William arrived twenty minutes later, his eyes immediately locking onto me.

Before he could cross the room, Lady Charlotte intercepted him, chattering endlessly while he stared past her in clear frustration.

Nathaniel drew my attention back, his tone unusually serious.

My stomach sank as he began a formal speech about how much he had enjoyed our time together.

He called me the most captivating woman he had ever met.

I tried to stop him, suggesting we speak in private, but he insisted he didn’t mind who heard him.

He wanted everyone to know he was the most fortunate gentleman in London.

I froze in panic.

Across the room, William had abandoned his conversation completely.

He was staring directly at us with intense, terrifying focus.

Before I could find the words to stop the inevitable disaster, Nathaniel reached out to take my hand.