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 came to them. Lucy smiled. "Lady Gallagher, I must say you are exceptionally beautiful tonight." "Your words are kind, My Lord." She was blushing. "I do not simply say them for the act of kindness. It is the truth. You truly are beautiful. The most beautiful lady here." Lucy's smile deepened. Lord D'Averette was a sweet talker and her cousin was hooked. "Would I be fortunate enough to be permitted to dance with you this evening?" "I'll be the fortunate one." Lucy returned. Lord D'Averette bowed slightly to Gwen as he led her cousin to the floor. She returned the bow. How fortunate indeed was Lucy, Gwen thought. It was obvious to the plain eyes that Lord D'Averette was smitten by her, and in no time, he might propose. Lucy had just attained age. And she was as smitten with him too. Gwen turned her eyes from the smitten couple to fuss with her dress. She searched the room and saw Aunt Marrily conversing with Beth who stood away from the crowd. Very well, she knew the discussion that was afoot. Seeing as Lucy had been stolen by the dashing Lord D'Averette, she made her way to them, fixing her smile. She caught her Aunt's words. "Excellent. Let me know if you need help getting to a man and I would come swiftly to your rescue." "Of course Aunt, you would be the first to know." Aunt Marrily left. Beth exhaled. "I cannot escape you, can I?" "Of course you can't. She is just too determined." Gwen said, walking into view. Beth gave a short smile. "How was your dance? Trust you enjoyed every bit of the twists and turns?" She did not, but she could not tell. "Indeed, I did. It was simply wonderful." She helped herself to a glass of wine from a passing server, as did Beth. "I wish Sir Princeton would ask me to dance again, he's quite the dancer." She said. He was indeed an excellent dancer, but she wished never to speak to him again, not even in passing. "Would you rather ask him to dance?" She would never! "And appear too forward? Never!" She took a light sip. "You are one to give such counsel, when you would rather be thrown and forgotten in a library than be here." She said, quickly making her sister the topic of discussion. "Still, here I stand." Beth said. Gwen tried not to roll her eyes but failed. "Besides, I don't want him to misjudge me; he should rather seek to woo me." She pushed her lips higher, lying still. "That would be very amazing." Being wooed by Sir Princeton would be a nightmare, on the evilest of all nights, but to be wooed by a man who saw beyond the surface, beyond who she was and what she could offer would be truly amazing. She sighed quietly. "Woo you? You danced with him but once. And already you want him to pursue you? Do pull back on the reins, Sister." "I am not all concerned about the part to pursue me; for now, another dance is all I wish. He's a wonderful man." She made a show of searching for Sir Princeton in the crowd, and smiled brighter when she saw him. Then, her eyes went again to Lucy and Lord D'Averette. "Earlier in Lucy's room, you said you believed in love." Gwen stole her gaze from the dancing couple. She turned to Beth. "Yes and I still do, even more so at this moment." The crowd clapped and hailed to the music, and continued dancing. She watched Lucy, and nodded to Sir Princeton. "I still believe in love." "I hope you are not deluded to think yourself in love with Sir Princeton?" God, no! "I am not a child to think myself in love after one dance. But I know love is out there and someday, it will find me, taking me by force." She smiled sincerely. Love would one day come for her and bring with it a husband. It would take her even if she wasn't ready. But she would be, she assured, for it must come before she attained an unmarriageable age. She would go a-searching if it was delayed. "How? Why? After Cossington I would believe otherwise." Beth asked, continuing the conversation. Gwen's grip on her glass tightened. Cossington! How she hated the name, and any semblance of it. She swallowed her emotions quickly before it would be discovered. The name and its relation irritated her, but it didn't hold her back. The same could not be said of Beth. Taking Beth's glass, she placed both on the nearest table, and took her sister's hands. "And you do. I know the reason you are so against marriage in theory and in practice. I know why you hate the littlest idea of it. I know it is because of what happened between Lord Cossington and me." "Then why are you alright with the idea? I can't fathom the reason behind your thoughts." Because she would not be defeated! Gwen exhaled, keeping her emotions down. "I was wronged and so was the entire family, but if it sours my heart towards marriage, a home, and the slightest possibility of love and happiness, then he has most definitely won, and I refuse to give him that victory." She said, clutching Beth's hands. She would be wed! she would have a husband!! She swore. "So you would rather force yourself to love?" "You misconstrue my words." "Don't you ever think about it?" They kept their gazes. "For it is all I can think about." Gwen shook her head, blinking. "Many a night I stay up wondering what my life would have been like if he had married me." She exhaled. "I'm reminded of his rejection and his crude and shameful alliance, and the thought to give up and do nothing else but cry surfaces. But then I think of Mother and Father, Aunt Marrily and Uncle Fitzwilliam. Marriage can't be all that bad, Beth. Somewhere, it has to be good." Beth freed herself of her hold. "Good or bad, I want no part in it." They bowed at passing gentry. "You would rather live and die an old maid, unfulfilled, alone at Westside Manor?" Beth made a face. "No. I would live, taking care of our parents and die an old gentlewoman. Peaceful and somewhat fulfilled. Marriage alone doesn't give fulfilment." "Quite the dream you've got there, Beth." Gwen said, helping herself to another wineglass from a server. Beth declined. "I would rather you think again, for I am looking up to you to seal my faith in marriage. It is no secret now." Beth laughed. Gwen chuckled. "You best look elsewhere dear; I won't wed, no matter what our family says." She looked ahead over the rim of her glass as she slurped. "You should think again, Mother is determined to get you a husband before the year ends and as it seems, so does Aunt Marrily. Look." She gestured. "She comes again with another set of gentlemen, ever eager to play matchmaker. I hope you are wearing your dancing shoes." She teased. Beth scoffed. Aunt Marrily came to them, being accompanied by two gentlemen. She was smiling too brightly, scarily too. Gwen patted her hair and put up her seductive smile, watching Beth stand straight too. She felt Beth's eyes on her. "You seem happy." Her sister said. "I enjoy the attention." Whilst everything else was a lie, that was true. She very much enjoyed the attention she garnered from the men, and the women alike. "I choose to." She added. "Hold up your best smile, else Aunt Marrily will never forgive you." In an instant, their Aunt was before them. "Go easy on the wine, sweet child." She warned. Unlike herself, Gwen flushed, somewhat embarrassed to be corrected before other people. "Sir George, these are my nieces, Beth and Gwen. Beautiful, are they not?" She turned to them. "Girls, this is Sir George, a fine cavalry soldier, second son to the Earl of Moore." "Lovely to make your acquaintance." He shook them, but kissed Beth's knuckles, smiling. "And this is his friend. Lord Claymoir. He is a Baron." "How do you do?" The baron asked, kissing both their knuckles. Beth intercepted. "Very well. How are you enjoying the ball?" "It is good, made even much better now. You are quite the beauties." Gwen blushed. She had mastered the skill. She simply needed to think of herself playing her lullaby on a grand piano forte. "I think you are very beautiful, Lady Gwen." Gwen managed a deeper blush at his words. Aunt Marrily was watching, seeming pleased. "Would you give me your next dance?" She giggled, pleasing everyone around. "I would." She placed her wineglass on the table and followed after Lord Claymoir, ready for another dance and another scrutiny. Perhaps he could be the one. He could end up as her husband. He was good with the compliment. She liked being complimented.* * *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 chose to indulge her excitement, but Carlisle was glaring still. "I am tempted to hear what your imaginations are, but I'm not keen on the glares of Carlisle here. He probably thinks I am in the act of seducing you." Her jaw dropped. This time, he chuckled. Oh, she would be easy, he gloried. "Enjoy your stay then." "I thank you for this opportunity. We promise not to impose." Was she so righteous? Or was it a ruse? One thing was certain; her timidity would not sit right with him. What did Carlisle see in her to want her as a friend, as he claimed? "Why not?! Carlisle does it as much as he can. My Castle is open to all that choose to adhere to my rules." And all who can bear to survive my tease. He added wordlessly. Again, she bowed. "Then I must thank you for your hospitality." His humourous side was greatly appeased. He tittered. "A sweet talker, won't you agree, Carlisle?" but a timid one. She would bore him soon. "A great hostess you must be Lady Beth." And indeed, he
Brand attempted another parry, anticipating Alexander's attack from the left, but his brother's cunning and expertise in swordsmanship proved to be a formidable challenge. Instead of following the expected trajectory, Alexander swiftly changed tactics, manoeuvring to Brand's right side. Caught off guard, Brand left himself vulnerable, providing Alexander with an opening and he took advantage. With a perfect move, Alexander swung and his blade made contact, grazing Brand's upper arm and drawing blood. Brand let out a yell of pain, instinctively retracting and clutching his wounded arm. "God dammit, you bastard!" Alexander let his sword drop to his side. "Watch your words, you speak to your king." It was ironic how he was being called a bastard by Brand. "I speak to my brother." His eyes narrowed with an intense glare. "Who happens to be your king." Then, "Raise your sword." He commanded, raising his, ready to fight again. Brand flexed his shoulders, stealing a brief glance at his
As they walked past the wall outside, flanked by verdant bushes, Alexander's gaze fell upon the two ladies awaiting the one whose help had been rejected. In a fleeting moment, his attention was fixated on the golden-haired figure, Guinevere, as beautiful as her name. Unlike her sister and cousin, she possessed a distinct allure that piqued his curiosity and she possessed no semblance to them.Observing her, he noted the way her eyes darted down when they bowed. Alexander stared on until they met his gaze, and impulsively, he smiled at her, continuing on his way. Whatever it was about her, he would find out. Brand walked ahead of him, still clutching his arm.Alexander didn't bother to look back at the fair lady, but for certain he knew, if Guinevere had approached him, offering to tend to his wound, he would not have rebuffed her assistance.***Gwen and Lucy lingered by the wall outside, waiting patiently for Beth's return. The tournament had ended, with the King emerging the victor,
"What do you know of weapons?" Lucy, always a pragmatist, interjected with a chuckle. "Gwen, what do we know of weapons?" Gwen bristled slightly at Lucy's skepticism, her desire to prove herself simmering beneath the surface. "I may not be a master swordsman," she replied evenly, "but I know talent when I see it." And she knew about swords. They were a form of protection. A companion to defence. A carrier of safety. With a sword in hand, she could protect and defend herself. And if need be, she could cause harm to all who frightened her, chasing them afar off and seeing that herself a secret her family was never again brought to humiliation. With a sword, and the knowledge of usage, she could protect herself, and her family, Gwen thought Lucy almost tripped, but caught herself in time. "What about the Duke?" She asked, stealing a sly glance at Beth who was trailing behind them, deep in thoughts. Whatever her reason for asking such a question was thwarted. Beth was greatly caught u