Novels by Matthew Lyn

'What is this'? Lord Montclair was fingering the gift I had given him, wrapped in an old newspaper and a ribbon -that I had sniffed from Abigail's collection, knowing she wouldn't miss it- tied around it.'It's your birthday present '. I said.'But my birthday is-''Is tomorrow, February 29th, I know, which now makes me feel like laughing. Lord Montclair, if your birthday is on every leapyear; how old are you really'?. He grinned. 'That's a secret'.'You're 10 years old, perhaps'.'Ha'! He scoffed. ' I celebrate my birthdays on the 28th of February of the 1st of May if it's not a leap year. So I am allegedly an adult'.'Hmm. Mhm'. I smiled, unconvinced. 'You wouldn't understand' he said, shaking his head at me.'What did you get me'?'Its a-''You know people won't normally tell you what they got for your birthday'. He interrupted looking slightly surprised.'Bible'. I finished. He sat up straighter and stared wide-eyed at me, mouth slightly agape.'You got me a bible for my birthday

'Have you spoken to lord Montclair'? This was the first thing I asked Abigail after I knocked on her door in a low scratch and she called me in.'Yes', she smiled, she was writing on her table and I sat on the stool just like I used to when we were younger. 'Can you believe'? She swerved around to face me, her writing forgotten at the moment. 'As rumors go, lord Montclair never says sorry. He did though, to me, apologizing for calling me a country bumpkin'. She smiled, pleased that he'd only ever apologized to her and also apologized for calling her names.'Oh I'm sure that's not the case, surely. He does apologize...when it is necessary'.'Then the necessity of it must be very sparse between'. She retorted back.'Do you think his apologizing to you means something'?'I think the frequent visit he pays to my grandfather's home means something'. Abigail sounded very confident from her reply and I suspected she was softening towards him.'Do you think he means to court you'? Abigail succ

From now know, I'll make sure such encounter never happened again, as long as I can help it.°°°°°°°°°°°°°°That was unfortunately, not what happened. After that day, he seemed to always be everywhere, almost. He was soon a regular visitor, I don't know if I can call him a visitor still, to the baron's household.What was it with this man? I grumbled after another, recent taunting from him. Was it that he had done all the work for his life time when he was much younger? And now he was as free as any man could wish. He should take his free time some places else like play chess or checkers with some older men or whatever it was. Although I was not the brunt of his availability. No, that is not correct. Although I was the brunt of his sudden free time with which he used frequenting the baron's home, Abigail was suffering a similar plight. 'Can you believe'! She exclaimed, as she was once again pacing around her room while I sat on a stool, studiously sewing. A lot of unbelievable thing

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. I fainted. °°°°°°°°°°°°°° Murmuring broke through my daze. Murmuring turned to words as I swept in and out of consciousness. '... Must take her inside'. Abigail? 'I cannot milady', a man's voice filtered past my ears as if far away. '.... Master...' 'Take her to her room, leave her on her bed. When she wakes up, she would take care of herself', lady Georgiana interjected, sounding sharp in my head. 'Yes my lady'. I was lifted up into the air and I fell back into slumber. °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° Weeks later, I was hurrying through the garden, a short cut to the kitchen. I was hurrying across the garden and suddenly, I was shoved into an alcove, my back pressed painfully against the wall - what was wrong with my life? Had I been born under a bad consternation? When I was peacefully minding my quiet existence, trouble came looking for me, when I went looking for trouble, trouble was dutifully following me closely behind. When I noticed someone was lookin

I woke up with a start and sat up straight on my bed. It couldn't be, could it?.My room was still covered in pools of darkness but I knew it would be filled with daylight soon. I got down, made my bed; straightened my blanket and puffed the pillow. Dressed in the dark and stepped out to the servant's wash room which was thankfully not in use. I stepped out of the wash room and my day began.All morning, i was not myself. When I heard a deep voice, I jumped,when I heard heavy foot steps coming my way I swerved around only to see a male servant walking by. 'You're acting very strangely today'. Stated Abigail in the presence of lady Georgiana and her abigail, Gloria, a slim girl in her twenties with long black hair like her mistress and barely there eyebrows - I always knew there was something odd about her face. We were up in the solar where Abigail and lady Georgiana were engaged in a compilation embroidery making.'It's the nerves my

I had pictured Marquess Montclair to be a black haired devil with a mischievous smile. Moreover, that was exactly how his friend, Viscount of Bart, Viscount Neville looked; his black hair was brushed- or gelled-, to perfection, no single strand out of places, his lips curved in a mischievous tilt as he appeared to listen with rapturous attention to what Abigail was saying to a small group of the crowd around the table, him included. But as I moved around replaying glasses and plates, I noticed that his eyes kept wandering down her cleavage. Despicable, I concluded.Marquess Montclair, on the other hand, had ruffle wavy blonde hair that looked as if a hand had run through it many of times. The chandelier above illuminated his hair making it look like a halo around his head. His head was bent as he muttered something in low voice to an elderly man sitting by his side - whom I recognized as Mr Nelbet, a business associate of Mr Maxwell and oft came to tea-, who roared with laught