***Alexander entered the piano room, his heart heavy from the happenings at Brand's birthday dinner. He was hoping to see Guinevere, to catch a glimpse of her graceful presence at the piano forte. However, as he looked through the room and found it empty, there was an unexpected sense of relief.He was somewhat drunk. She should not see him like that. Lady Wilmot's presence had caused him to overindulge in wine.The room was serene, bathed in the soft glow of the lit candles. He moved toward the piano, his fingers brushing lightly over the keys, then went over to sit in the only other chair in the room. The absence of Guinevere allowed him a rare moment of solitude, a chance to gather his thoughts without distraction.Brand, the ungrateful scoundrel, had worn a scowl the entire evening, even daring to glare at him. How dare he openly protest that he was unhappy with the presence at dinner. Why had he been unhappy? He should be glad to have his brother and mother at the same table. It
Alexander turned to sit facing the piano, a gentle smile on his lips. "You are endearing. I could not help myself." He confessed, patting the space beside him on the bench, urging her to sit.Though there was hesitation, Guinevere took a deep breath and lowered herself back onto the bench. She was flushed.He gently touched her cheek. She flinched from him. "It was not my intention to startle you." His words accompanied the fall board back down over the keys.Guinevere's hands rested gently on the fall board, and she looked up at him with a soft smile. "You are forgiven." Her voice was warm. When Alexander met her gaze, she let out a light, melodious giggle. "I am in a benevolent mood.""Are you now?""Yes." She replied, her smile broadening. "And I am also gifting you this music, expecting no lessons in return." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, "Although you owe a debt already.""How truly benevolent of you." Alexander remarked with a smirk.Guinevere laughed softly. She
Alexander sniggered. She was beyond adorable.He knew Brand hated staying on land for the same reason he continually refused his crown. It was because of him."Do not force your opinion on him.""I see why not. I am the king.""And he is the prince, with authority of his own.""I am his king."Guinevere paused her playing and gave him a condemning look. Alexander smiled and winked at her. She flustered."You are his king, it is true," she continued, "but greater than that, you are his brother. How can you ask him to learn forgiveness when you have not forgiven yourself? Whatever happened is in the past, Alexander.""He is still young, and it is my duty to protect him.""Is he fifteen?" Guinevere asked with a raised eyebrow. Alexander gave her a lazy look. "Or forgive my lazy mind. He is twenty today, yes?"She was teasing him. He was proud of her."The prince is hardly a child. Unless you, My Lord, are a child lover."Guinevere was eighteen, almost nineteen. Much younger than Brand.A
June 1821The sun was finally setting, dipping far to the horizon and over Westside Manor, a glow like never before hung beautifully. Hues of pink and gold cast across the sky, giving a sense of serenity and peace. It was the most beautiful sight. Perhaps the sunset was the same as before. Perhaps, nothing was a stranger. Perhaps the only difference was the promised visitors to come.Gwen stood in her room with her back against the wall, watching outside the window that overlooked the yard, waiting, listening for the invited party. Her nerves were in disarray as her fingers would not stop tingling. She watched as the gentle evening breeze troubled the tiny grasses while the leaves of the big trees danced to it, mocking it. She felt the tingle again and recognized it. It was the same feeling her fingers always retained whenever she played the piano, or ate something truly delicious, or got away with her naughty ways. It was the tingle of excitement.For a moment, she thought of the pia
Without a second to lose, she ran to her table, grabbed a parchment and sat down to write about her future groom.She wrote:They are here! The family that I am to one day be a part of, they have come! They seem strong and wealthy, and even though I do not care for those, Mother says it is best if they are present, for they would grant security. I suppose I shall be very secure then.'She giggled.'I saw him. It should be him for why would it not be? A young man, maybe a little younger than Eric, but like Eric, a man already. He is handsome, more than the portrait of him I possess. And powerful too.I do not know why Father and Eric asked me to remain in my room, it is strange, I must admit, and I wish to obey them but I am too curious to sit still. I want to know him; to hear his voice and know what my prospective husband thinks of me. I cannot believe that in five mere years to come, I shall be married. I would not be paraded around in the London season of my coming out.Is it a mys
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 irregul
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