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Authors: Ella J. Quince
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grow is some maturity. This is not a game to me, this is our future.”
Violet grew somber. “I’m sorry, Heather. I was only trying to have fun with you.”
“Please don’t.” Heather lay back down and covered her eyes with her hand.
“But, Heather… I really do think he likes you.”
“Enough, Violet.”
“It’s the way he looks at you.”
Heather’s pulse began to throb in her temples. “You shouldn’t pay any mind to how he looks at me.”
“But if I notice, someone else might notice.”
Heather sat up and looked at her sister again. Violet had spun around on the stool and was watching her. “All the more reason why you need to behave as if nothing is amiss. Mr. Calder is helping me. I will have to spend lots of time with him in preparation of meeting the duke. The duke is a very peculiar man, and Mr. Calder is going to help me be everything the duke wishes me to be.”
“Like a tutor?” Violet said in dismay.
“Yes, like a tutor.”
“Is all courtship like that?”
Heather’s irritation softened. “No. You will have a season. You will dance in grand ballrooms, and go to the theatre. Gentlemen will drop at your feet as easy as the leaves in fall. They will send you flowers in the morning and beg to take you up in their phaetons for a drive around the park… That is what courtship will be like for you.”
Violet wiped away a tear and sniffed. “But not for you?”
Heather simply shook her head. “Not for me, lovely. But don’t you worry about that. I will have a grand time watching you find the man of your dreams.”
“As a duchess.” Violet attempted a smile.
Heather laughed. “With ropes of diamonds around my neck and a ridiculous feather in my hair.”
Violet stood and presented her back to Heather. Heather was silent as she undid the buttons and her sister slipped out of her dress and under the covers. “Thank you, Heather. I shall name a daughter after you,” she said sleepily.
Heather smiled and rubbed her eyes. She wanted to laugh and cry. Would jewels and fancy feathers replace the feeling of a passionate embrace? She was suddenly not tired, and she couldn’t sit for one more minute pretending she was perfectly fine with her chosen path. “I’m going to find Mother and ask if I can wear her peacock shawl to dinner.
“M hm,” Violet mumbled with her eyes closed.
Heather hurried from the room, taking the servant stairs one flight down to the hall she hoped harbored Lady Endervale’s sitting room. It was a shot in the dark, but Heather hoped a certain steward had work to do after spending the afternoon playing lawn games. The hall was empty. All the guests had retired to rest before dinner. She tried to remember her surroundings from last night, but it had been dark then, and now the hall was filled with afternoon light.
She was almost to the main stair when she stopped at a door. It was closed. Should she knock? What if it wasn’t the right room? She took a deep breath and turned the handle, prepared to pretend total confusion about her location. The door opened and she saw him at the desk, a letter in his hand. He looked up in utter surprise. Heather bolted into the room and closed the door, leaning against it in relief as her pulse beat frantically.
“Is something wrong?” He slipped the letter in a ledger as he stood.
“No, I… uh.” She pushed away from the door and bit her lip. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and all she wanted to do was run into his arms, perhaps even cry. “Am I interrupting you?” She inwardly cringed. She was obviously interrupting him.
He slowly came around the desk, and before she could find a word to utter, he was before her. He brought a hand to her cheek, his large hand cradling her jaw. He took her mouth without question, stealing her wits from her with the seal of his lips. This is exactly what Heather needed, no more thinking, only feeling. She opened her mouth eagerly, hungry for the taste of him that was still so
Violet grew somber. “I’m sorry, Heather. I was only trying to have fun with you.”
“Please don’t.” Heather lay back down and covered her eyes with her hand.
“But, Heather… I really do think he likes you.”
“Enough, Violet.”
“It’s the way he looks at you.”
Heather’s pulse began to throb in her temples. “You shouldn’t pay any mind to how he looks at me.”
“But if I notice, someone else might notice.”
Heather sat up and looked at her sister again. Violet had spun around on the stool and was watching her. “All the more reason why you need to behave as if nothing is amiss. Mr. Calder is helping me. I will have to spend lots of time with him in preparation of meeting the duke. The duke is a very peculiar man, and Mr. Calder is going to help me be everything the duke wishes me to be.”
“Like a tutor?” Violet said in dismay.
“Yes, like a tutor.”
“Is all courtship like that?”
Heather’s irritation softened. “No. You will have a season. You will dance in grand ballrooms, and go to the theatre. Gentlemen will drop at your feet as easy as the leaves in fall. They will send you flowers in the morning and beg to take you up in their phaetons for a drive around the park… That is what courtship will be like for you.”
Violet wiped away a tear and sniffed. “But not for you?”
Heather simply shook her head. “Not for me, lovely. But don’t you worry about that. I will have a grand time watching you find the man of your dreams.”
“As a duchess.” Violet attempted a smile.
Heather laughed. “With ropes of diamonds around my neck and a ridiculous feather in my hair.”
Violet stood and presented her back to Heather. Heather was silent as she undid the buttons and her sister slipped out of her dress and under the covers. “Thank you, Heather. I shall name a daughter after you,” she said sleepily.
Heather smiled and rubbed her eyes. She wanted to laugh and cry. Would jewels and fancy feathers replace the feeling of a passionate embrace? She was suddenly not tired, and she couldn’t sit for one more minute pretending she was perfectly fine with her chosen path. “I’m going to find Mother and ask if I can wear her peacock shawl to dinner.
“M hm,” Violet mumbled with her eyes closed.
Heather hurried from the room, taking the servant stairs one flight down to the hall she hoped harbored Lady Endervale’s sitting room. It was a shot in the dark, but Heather hoped a certain steward had work to do after spending the afternoon playing lawn games. The hall was empty. All the guests had retired to rest before dinner. She tried to remember her surroundings from last night, but it had been dark then, and now the hall was filled with afternoon light.
She was almost to the main stair when she stopped at a door. It was closed. Should she knock? What if it wasn’t the right room? She took a deep breath and turned the handle, prepared to pretend total confusion about her location. The door opened and she saw him at the desk, a letter in his hand. He looked up in utter surprise. Heather bolted into the room and closed the door, leaning against it in relief as her pulse beat frantically.
“Is something wrong?” He slipped the letter in a ledger as he stood.
“No, I… uh.” She pushed away from the door and bit her lip. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and all she wanted to do was run into his arms, perhaps even cry. “Am I interrupting you?” She inwardly cringed. She was obviously interrupting him.
He slowly came around the desk, and before she could find a word to utter, he was before her. He brought a hand to her cheek, his large hand cradling her jaw. He took her mouth without question, stealing her wits from her with the seal of his lips. This is exactly what Heather needed, no more thinking, only feeling. She opened her mouth eagerly, hungry for the taste of him that was still so
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