Chapter Twenty-Three: Flirting Games 

Theodore leaned back in his study chair, the amber glow of the lamp illuminating his sharply tailored figure. His phone rested in his hand, and his thumb hovered over the screen. For a man who was known to be decisive in all aspects of life, he found himself unusually hesitant when it came to Eleanor. 

Finally, he typed: 
"Lady Kensington, I do believe it would be quite cruel of you to keep a gentleman waiting in suspense. Might I see a preview of your chosen gowns for the upcoming rituals? Surely, I deserve at least a glimpse." 

He pressed send, a small smirk forming on his lips as he imagined her reaction. The moment her reply came through, his smirk widened. 

"Lord Blackwood, patience is a virtue. You’ll see me in the gowns at the events, as will everyone else. I see no need for special previews."

Theodore chuckled, tapping his response quickly. 

Eleanor, reclining in her own room, read his message and rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. She composed her reply with equal swiftness: 
"You are entitled to many things, Lord Blackwood, but exclusivity in this regard is not one of them."

Theodore let out a soft laugh, appreciating her wit. She was unlike any woman he had ever encountered—sharp, confident, and entirely capable of matching him word for word. He sent another message: 
"Ah, but would it not please you to know how much I anticipate seeing you? Surely, Lady Kensington, your beauty deserves the private admiration of the one who cherishes it most."

Eleanor couldn’t help but laugh as she read his message, though she schooled her expression quickly, not wanting her maids to notice her flustered state. Her reply came moments later: "Flattery, Lord Blackwood? I expected better tactics from you. Though I admit, it is rather amusing to see you try."

Theodore raised an eyebrow, thoroughly entertained. He had dealt with stubborn negotiators, hardheaded allies, and even more difficult rivals, but Eleanor was an entirely different kind of challenge—one he relished. 

"Amusing, you say? Then allow me to try harder. A picture would not only soothe my anticipation but also ensure I match your elegance with my own attire. Surely, we wouldn’t want to clash," he wrote, his tone dripping with feigned practicality. 

Eleanor shook her head, biting back another laugh. She leaned into the playful exchange, replying: 
"You underestimate me, Lord Blackwood. My elegance will shine regardless of what you wear. As for clashing, I trust your valet will ensure you remain presentable."

Theodore set his phone down for a moment, his smirk evolving into a genuine grin. He had rarely encountered someone who could disarm him so effectively. Picking up his phone again, he decided to change his strategy. 

"Very well, Lady Kensington. If you won’t send me a picture of the gowns, perhaps I should imagine you in them instead. Let me guess—your choice is understated yet breathtaking, with a neckline that draws just enough attention to—"

Before he could finish typing, Eleanor’s reply came through, cutting him off: 
"Careful, Lord Blackwood. This is a dangerous path you tread."

Theodore laughed outright, shaking his head in admiration. 
"Danger is my specialty, Lady Kensington. Surely, you’ve realized that by now."

Eleanor stared at the message for a moment, her cheeks warming despite herself. She contemplated whether to continue the flirtation or to end it decisively. Ultimately, her mischievous side won. 

"If danger is your specialty, Lord Blackwood, then I trust you will be prepared for the consequences of your actions."

Theodore arched an eyebrow at her response, intrigued. 
"Consequences, my lady? You make it sound as though I am already guilty." 

Eleanor typed her reply slowly, enjoying the game as much as he was:  "You are guilty, Lord Blackwood—of impatience and presumptuousness. And while those may be forgivable sins, they do not earn you the privilege of seeing my gowns before anyone else."

Theodore let out a deep chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He was thoroughly enamored with her boldness. 
"You wound me, Lady Kensington. But very well, I shall wait. Though I must warn you, my anticipation only grows with each passing day."

Eleanor smiled to herself, setting her phone aside. She could imagine his expression—a mix of amusement and frustration—as he awaited her reply. 

When she finally responded, it was with a simple: 
"Then consider this an exercise in patience, Lord Blackwood. Goodnight."

Theodore read her message and shook his head, grinning. 
"Goodnight, Lady Kensington. Dream of me."

Eleanor rolled her eyes, but her heart raced all the same. For a man who could charm anyone with his elite, polished demeanor, Theodore Blackwood had a way of making her feel both infuriated and captivated. As she turned off her lamp and settled into bed, she couldn’t help but think about his persistence and how it made her look forward to their next encounter. 

Meanwhile, Theodore leaned back in his chair, his mind filled with thoughts of Eleanor. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and the challenge she posed only made him more certain of one thing: he wanted her, entirely and irrevocably. And if that meant waiting to see her in those gowns until the day of the rituals, then so be it. 

For now, he would play the game, knowing that when the time came, the prize would be worth every moment of anticipation.