Gwen was utterly confused.
Was she truly the entity of discussion? Why did the room continually fall into silence? Who was the Duke that drew so much bone of contention?! Someone coughed lightly. "Lord Cossington, the young lady remains the same that was spoken of here on this contract. Guinevere. Except you mean to break the contract, she remains the same." So it was her they were discussing. "No, she doesn't." It was the voice of the older man again. "It is clearly stated in the contracts except you, Fitzgerald hopes to blind me with lies." "Lord Cossington!" "My son was promised Guinevere! The daughter of a Duke, with fortune and a great title, not the daughter of a poor land baron, who's scrapping food together and can barely get by. Or do you suppose it is not known to the ton of your falling out of the little wealth you have?" Silence fell on the room again, gaining length by the passing seconds. Gwen could hear herself breathing. She could hear her breathing, and it was irregular. Their words made no sense. Surely they did not speak of her? Surely she was not the Guinevere being discussed and referred to as a Duke's daughter? It couldn't be. And what was it about his wealth? For certain, her father was not so down in fortune as has been said, was he? What of the contract? Could it no longer be honoured because of her family's fortune? She leaned heavily on the pillar, this time, for support. Their words made no sense. Or had she been the fool all along? Had age let her family fool her all her life? Gwen was young, the youngest of her parents' children but she was not as innocent or clueless as they thought or wished her to be. Although she loved playing the piano, and dashing around the house, she was very intelligent. She wouldn't read if it wasn't necessary or if it didn't for the moment hold her interest but she could make perfect conversation even at her age and bring words with perfect relations to a discussion. She was not being made a fool of, was she? Did her family think she was too young and decided to make her a fool? "I assure you, Lord Cossington," her father's voice came up once again. "the state of my fortune has nothing to do with my daughter nor with her dowry." "Your daughter you call her, not the daughter of the Duke." "You know the reason for why she is now called my daughter." He defended, sounding exasperated. "Lord Cossington_" "This discussion is through, Fitzgerald." A sound of a hand slapping the tea table reverberated to the halls. "The reason for which she is now your daughter is the same for which she would not be my daughter-in-law. This contract is off!" She was being rejected! Gwen's breath caught. She had been rejected! She inhaled deeply and exhaled in an equal manner, trying to stabilize her breathing routine. She was being rejected after being disregarded as her father's child. Why was she being disregarded as her father's child by everyone in the room, including her father? Was she not a true Fitzgerald? Was she not the daughter of Radclyffe and Victoria Fitzgerald? If not, whose daughter was she? She was without a marriage prospect. She was without a family. 'Who was she?!' She questioned, a small prang of pain lay on her chest. The door remained slightly ajar, but instead of holding onto it as before, Beth leaned on the wall and Gwen saw the tears. Her sister was crying. The sorrow was there, and Gwen felt Beth's sorrow for it was the same as hers. Overwhelming, yet depressing. It laid on her chest, seeming to, with force, press down all the joy that made her who she was. It was stealing what she stood for, and consuming her in the process. A sad chuckle escaped her lips. It was unbelievable that she should be sad when until the previous day, she had no inkling of the existence of a marriage contract drawn in her honour. Although she had been out many times with her family, she had never meant the young man she was betrothed to. Why then was she hurt by their rejection? Why was she pained that he didn't want her? Why was it crushing her soul? "The contract was rendered invalid a long time ago, it was your greed that caused us to revisit it." "Your words are harsh." Eric said softly. "And it would remain as it should, so you paupers can understand your standing in society." She heard that other voice again. Geoffrey's voice. "Geoffrey, I shall not reprimand you anymore. You should learn to be kind with your words even if the other party is not deserving of it." His father rebuked him. "Yes, Father.' Not deserving? Gwen scoffed quietly. Her father and her brother were not deserving of kind words? She was not deserving of kind words? The Cossingtons were unkind. She had been momentarily rejected and an age-long contract had been condemned, why then do they continue to insult and humiliate? "I suppose the reason for this meeting has been nullified." This time, it was her father who spoke. "Thank you for making your way here to Westside Manor." He was politely ushering them out. It was done with. 'She was no more betrothed to the heir of Sorway? Her engagement was no more? Would she now be paraded when she attained the age of eighteen in the London season?' She wondered. Shaking her head, she caught herself. She was thinking in a different direction. A wrong direction. Their conversation was one of confusion. She had come from her room to gain knowledge, but instead ended up with even greater questions. Was she not the daughter of Radclyffe Fitzgerald? Was she truly the daughter of a Duke? What happened to her father, her family? Sadness washed over her. Was she indeed not the sister of Eric and Beth? She did not belong in Westside Manor? Even as her thoughts travelled far and wide, she heard the voice of the Viscount. "Fitzgerald, I do have a preposition if you would agree, it would benefit us both." Keenly, she paid attention, as did Beth who swiftly grabbed again unto the door, listening, waiting for good news. "Seeing the marriage cannot be forwarded_" He was interrupted. "You mean as you have rejected my sister." "Eric." This time it was her father reprimanding her brother. "Leave the boy be, he speaks only from emotions, but when you succeed your father and become Lord of this dingy estate, you would realize that emotions do nothing, wealth does." How cruel! "What is your preposition then, Lord Cossington?" Her father spoke tightly as though his teeth were clenched together. He seemed to have become more exasperated. Why did the Cossingtons speak with such unkindness?! Silence. Then, "Someday, my son would one day marry another,_" "Hurrah to you, then." Eric interrupted, his tone ringing deep with mockery. Lord Cossington did not stop. "_one with wealth and class, something you are lacking." Gwen couldn't help the sad scoff. They were perfectly unkind and rude. How did her family think to marry her to such a family? Was it because she was not a Fitzgerald? She knew now that she wasn't. Or was it to give her to the highest bidder, someone who could rescue the family in dire straits? Then why her? It could not be for fortune, could it? For if the family was in dire straits, then Beth's hand would have been out in marriage. She raised her head and looked at Beth who remained by the door, quiet and careful. How could she remain like so, Gwen wondered, when she was in disarray, scared of what to think and who to trust anymore? The Viscount continued. "He would marry someone of note in the society." Silence. Everyone was waiting. "The girl, your daughter, is young, I am aware, but in a few years, she will become a woman, and even though she cannot be my son's wife, I believe they might share other alliances, as they both deserve to be happy." Beth put her hand over her mouth, her eyes sparkling with some sort of knowledge. Gwen remained confused. What was happening? What hidden message was in Lord Cossington's speech. A short silence. "What then, is your preposition?" Lord Cossington took his time. "It would be befitting of her status as your daughter and it would greatly benefit the family. You, for certain, could achieve much with the fortune acquired." Pause. "I believe you know what I speak of." "I do not. Out with it, if you will." Her father urged. He was beginning to sound angry. He cleared his throat. "Gwen, she is called; she seems like a good child after all and deserves to be cared for." Another short pause. "I suppose she can be my son's mistress." Gwen exhaled sharply. Lord Cossington continued. "Not now, of course, when she is of age. She would gain wealth, and Geoffrey would not be bored in his marriage. But you must know that whatever sons she might bear for him can never be the heirs to Sorway." Gwen gasped. She was beyond shocked.She saw Beth put her other hand over the first hand on her mouth and knew her sister was trying not to make herself known even with a whimper. The door remained slightly ajar but the conversations and voices travelled away. A shrill sound replaced them, threatening to destroy Gwen's hearing.She was beyond shocked. She was mortified. A proposal, a preposition to be a mistress? Impossibly, she leaned further into the wall, wishing to be one with the shadows. How had Lord Cossington come to such a conclusion?She was no longer a child, she was very aware of what the Viscount's preposition meant. She was to become the mistress of the man who was, a few minutes before, her betrothed. She knew perfectly what that meant too.The family thought Beth to be the one vast in knowledge as she enjoyed reading, but she was not dumb. She had on one occasion or the other taken a liking to one of Beth's books and the knowledge might sometimes be vulgar for her young mind but they were knowledge nevert
September 1826True to Lucy's words, Carlisle Crest was indeed magnificent.Gwen's eyes remained on the lands, outside the window. From the turn they made to enter the estate, to the mansion they were arriving at, she was marvelled by how magnificent it was. Raising her head, she saw that the lights from the mansion up ahead were bright and they gave the mansion a thorough and proper look. It was an ethereal view.The driveway was packed as people took their time chatting and enjoying proper promenades. Many women giggled into their fists and a group of young men clustered together, stealing glances at the women. Young men of desirable age, and young women of marriageable age, looking to marry.From where they were on the tardy queue, Gwen could already hear the music. It was loud and upbeat, fun and worthy of a good dance. She couldn't wait to be a part of it, whiling away to the fast and slow dances, the meaningless chats and the untrue smiles.Like trees, stationary people slowly w
She placed her hands behind her and danced slowly away from Mr. Jones before returning, as did other dancing ladies. Mr. Jones smiled at her and she broadened hers in return, pushing her cheeks higher until they wouldn't lift anymore. They would hurt later, that was certain. He turned her and she again mirrored his dance, falling into steps with him. His hand stayed above the small of her back. At least he was a gentleman. He would make a good husband, she thought. "I don't think I have had the opportunity to be in your presence before today. Is this your first time at Carlisle crest?" He initiated a conversation. Gwen obliged his attempt, raising the pitch of her voice. "It is. It is my very first time. I take it you have been here many times yourself." "I have. The Dowager Duchess invites us, my family and I, every time there is a ball. I dare say she is fond of us." "I see." She nodded, thinking. 'Did not everyone get invited to Carlisle Crest?' She turned on the spot as did ot
Over the years, her sister and her parents had protected her whenever she was out in society, telling the young men she had danced with that although she was out of her schoolroom – not that she had any to begin with – she was young and not ready for marriage, nor sort of relationship with a man, howbeit, gentle. But she would be eighteen soon and expected to debut as a young woman ready for marriage, Gwen could not wait to be married and instead of waiting for age to come before a proposal, she had decided to put them in reverse. She would not wait for a groom, her groom would wait for her to attain age, then marriage.It was the perfect plan.The music stopped and the dancers bowed to their respective partners. Gwen did the same, bowing and with the shake of her head, declined dancing with him again. She left and walked over to Lucy who she had seen when she was still dancing, but before she could utter a word, Lord D'Averette left the man he was engaged in a conversation with and c
* * *As soon as the door of her room closed, the smile on Gwen's face vanished like it was never there before. Her cheeks ached and her lips felt numb from all the smiling. She flexed her jaws in hope to relieve the tension. The day had been beyond tiring.The ball was still very much underway when they left for Rosethorn Hill. As much as she was weary of the falsehood, she couldn't say much as she must keep the show of enjoying herself. But not Beth, who had had her fill, as with Lucy by her side, they convinced Aunt Marrily and Uncle Fitzwilliam to listen to their pleas and leave early. Through the course of the ball, Gwen had lost count of the number of gentlemen she had danced with, and was immensely glad when she had been gestured over. She was glad to leave.She walked over to the armoire and began to remove her dress. First the dress fell, pooling at her feet then the corset, and every other underwear. She wore her night garment, wrapped a shawl around her shoulder and sat on
"Pull!" Alexander yelled.A target was released into the air and he shot at it with perfect accuracy, bringing it down in bits and shards. Swiftly, he switched his musket with another loaded one and prepared again to engage: gun supported underneath with his left hand, butt to his shoulder, right index finger on the trigger, eyes focused; ready to follow the target as soon as it was released. From his line of sight, he saw someone approaching but he was too concentrated to turn or be concerned.He blinked and slowly released his pelt up breath. "Pull!" He yelled again.Another target went in the air and with his pressing on the trigger, the target disappeared into pieces and nothingness, scattering everywhere.He switched his musket and returned to his original stance point. "Pull!"Again, another target was released and destroyed. He stopped and watched the remains of his target reach the ground, then set the musket butt down with a gentle thud. "Hold." He told the servants who were
"Do you want to? I had thought your assignment was to win me in a staring competition. Or would you rather I plead you to tell me the results of your scouring?""No Sir, I apologize." Alexander sighed. How did he appoint such men as his most elite soldiers and spies? Suddenly, he feared for his kingdom. Brimsbol began. "The land thieves have been apprehended and thrown in the dungeon, but the wares of the villagers could not be recovered. Farm produce and livestock, gone. They had successfully sold it before we could catch up with them."He became incredulous. A terrible pause ensued. Then, "Excuses! Excuses!! Excuses!!!" He exploded, scaring Brimsbol, Edmund and the other servants who stood around the artificial shade. His eyes remained on the man. He had not meant to yell, but from the report the men had given him, to the news he received the day before from his spies, the frustration had finally caught up to him, vexing him in ways unfathomable. He breathed deeply and strongly. "Wh
Alexander's regard of the man was scathing. He was aware of the tension in the room and he gloried in it. "Mr. Wylore, is there a problem?" As the man was about to speak, he raised a hand to stop him. "Did I not ask for funds to be allocated or was it not included in the letter?"He nodded. "It was, Your Majesty…""Then, why trouble me, or do you presume I do not already have enough to do?""No, of course, Your Majesty. I only intended to confirm.""Mr. Wylore," He called, sitting forward and clasping his hands together. It was a look to cause fear. "if I need to give my present consent every time, then I suggest you retire soon.""No Sire, I_ I would nev_ I did not intend_"Alexander smiled. How greatly he enjoyed to tease, and making people uncomfortable was a joy. "Shall we review the accounts?" It was neither a plea nor askance. Mr. Wylore climbed to him, turned the pages and began to read it to his hearing.Tapping his feet rhythmically on the floor, Alexander listened to the Sol
Alexander grunted loudly, his body lurching forward. He sat up at once, grabbing a hank of her hair, blinded by passion. He was gasping for air. With her tongue, Guinevere scraped and laved at him, pushing him higher, closer to that cliff's edge where he knew she intended to take him. She pulled back, and rubbed her thumb over his tip. He moaned savagely, his control unravelling, as he now was at the edge. At once, he moved, and she was beneath him, in his arms, with her hair sprayed out and her eyes regarding him with lust and danger and love, breathing as heavily as him. Under the moonlight, she shone like something divine, radiant and marvellously breathtaking. In that instant, he knew with certainty, she was everything he had ever desired. No one else could ever hold his heart the way she now did. He was entirely, irrevocably hers. Was this the perfect view of the world? Was this the perfection of the world? If it was, then the world - his world - was the most perfect. He
***Guinevere led him, and he followed, trailing behind until they reached the grove – his secret place. He stood at the edge, where she had left him, watching her. She laid out her shawl on the ground and pulled the pins from her hair, tossing them away, moving with such grace, her gown fluttering about her like a whisper carried on the night breeze. Alexander inhaled when her golden locks tumbled free from their confinement, cascading down like liquid sunlight.Above them, the branches swayed in the breeze, responding almost as violently as his body did to the sight of her. Her jewellery glinted softly in the silver light, while her hair shimmered in its glow. She moved toward him, her eyes locked with his, and his heart became erratic. He wished the moon would shine brighter, so he could be thoroughly lost in the depths of her eyes – those enchanting blue pools. In that instant, he realized that more than her golden hair, he had come to love her eyes. He loved how she looked at him
September 1827Alexander's fingers mimicked hers on the opposite side of the piano, its deeper tones providing a rich contrast to the lighter melodies from her side. Soon, he eased away, and she smoothly transitioned from duet to solo, her touch effortlessly commanding the keys.Their guests watched, and she played.It was a ball to celebrate the change of seasons. Fall had finally arrived as did the harvest, and it was tradition to celebrate it. There had never been such a celebration since Alexander became king, she was told, as he had long abandoned it. Gwen had been eager to revive the tradition. They had gone hunting during the day, and now, held a feast to celebrate. She was relieved to see that he was, despite his protest, thoroughly enjoying himself.They had left the main ballroom for the piano room, where still, some guests followed.She was enjoying herself as well.For days, Alexander had patiently and consistently guided her through the complexities of the nation's affair
***Gwen lay in the quiet aftermath of their lovemaking, her body still thrumming with the fervour of their union. Slowly her breathing came to her and she could breathe again. Afterwards, sanity drifted and met her in Alexander's bed. She began to realize that she had just experienced passion – with her husband!Naked in his arms, her cheek nestled against the warmth of Alexander's chest, one hand resting on him. His arm was draped possessively around her, with one of her legs caught between both of his. His hand sat on her bare waist.Her smile came.Good gracious! She had made love to her husband, and it was the most extraordinary feeling she had ever known. She was drifting with ecstasy, her heart swelling with love. Slowly, she licked her lips and shyly raised her eyes to Alexander's face.He was watching her, regarding with a tender expression. Her heart leaped wildly. His deep blue eyes darkened, searching hers."You seem pleased." He murmured.Gwen knew she flushed. She was pl
Before she could protest further, he picked her up, and she shrieked at the sudden movement. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his hands went firmly to hold her buttocks. Beads of sweat formed on his temples, his blood heating with desire. He started for the bed.As they sank onto the mattress, he flung the sheets aside and positioned himself between her legs, his lips immediately finding her neck. He kissed the sensitive spot just above her collarbone, and down to her breasts until his mouth closed around a nipple.Her breath caught as she arched upward, unknowingly pushing herself to him. He agreed and continued, sucking slowly, again and again, and pulled."Ooh." She gasped and collapsed back onto the bed. When he kissed the space between her breasts, she giggled."Do I make jest?" He asked, aware of how rough his voice had become. His need for her was explosive, and he wondered if she understood the effect she was having on him. He kissed beneath her left breast,
***Gwen sank into the settee, and Alexander followed, sliding closer to her. His eyes ran the expanse of her body slowly from her head down to her waist, and she felt herself softening under the intensity of his look. His eyes burned with passion and desire."You do not know how you look right now."She averted her gaze, her toes curling beneath her night garment. "How do I look?"Alexander gently lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. His dark brows lifted. "I shall never tell. It is my secret." Then, with a grin, he kissed the tip of her nose. She clenched her hands, breathing out sharply. He paused. "Are you scared?"The fire in his eyes was blazing, and she no longer spoke of the reflection from the fireplace. His tone was casual, but the question was not in the least. He was serious, and she knew it.Gwen blinked, slowly relaxing her grip. "There is nothing to be afraid of." She said, meaning her words. They pleased him.Alexander moved even closer, his voice dropping. "
"Close the door behind you." His voice reverberated through the chamber, deep and commanding. Gwen shuddered and not from fear.She exhaled slowly, her erratic heart leaping with a strange, pleasant feeling. She was curious now of what was to come. Underneath her night garment, a warmth began. Her thoughts briefly wandered to that day in her bedchamber, when he had touched her on the table. She flushed, surprised at herself.Slowly, she closed the door. "Is it not rude to leave our guests to themselves?" Her voice was quieter than she had wanted.A breeze drifted through the room, rustling the open curtains. Alexander emerged from the chair, bringing a candle with his rise. "I am the king," he replied, "my authority grants me the right to be rude." He set the candle atop the fireplace and turned to face her. Gwen swallowed hard.He had only his dress shirt on, having rid himself of his jacket and waistcoat. The top buttons were left undone, revealing his bare chest. Gwen's eyes were d
One week later.The air was thick with the mingling sounds of chatter and gay laughter, and the clinking of glasses controlled every breath. Elegantly and warmly dressed guests sat to dinner and topics of conversation were never in lack. Lord Michaelson and a couple other gentlemen raised their glasses in a raucous cheer. Lady Carlisle giggled to something Carlisle whispered.It was well past 7 p.m., and though the wedding had ended hours ago, the wedding dinner was anywhere but. Alexander sat at the head of the table, sawing absentmindedly at the slab of meat on his plate. He picked the tiny piece and shoved it into his mouth, only to realize he had eaten a tomato. He did not care. His thoughts were elsewhere. And so were his eyes. They were fixed on Guinevere – his wife.He was openly gawking and he gave no care.Her smile was effortlessly charming, her appearance impeccable. She commanded the space about her and her presence filled the room. She sat at the other end of the room, ca
***The doormen eased the door open, and Gwen slipped inside as quietly as she could, giving a small nod to Edmund and Paula. They bowed in return. At the far end of the room, Alexander sat on his throne, his elbow resting on the armrest, his head leaning into his hand. She had come to recognize the posture all too well. He was brooding.Since the moment Gwen had awoken, thoughts of Alexander had filled her mind, and as soon as she learned that the proceedings had ended and he had dismissed the court, she felt an overwhelming urge to be near him, to ensure he was not consumed in the thoughts of his sentence, and to offer whatever comfort she could.It was great that she had come.Gwen moved slowly, closing the distance between them, silently placing one foot before the other. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her hands clenched involuntarily.The large room was unusually dark, even for the afternoon, and far colder than the weather warranted. Why had the curtains bee