He couldn't describe his day as good. He didn't even come close. The night was almost dawning, tinged with the soft touches of sunset that illuminated the clouds of his gloomy day, which had passed with a raging revolution in his suffocating chest.
By the candlelight, he tied his black tie with a contracted face that didn't relax for a moment as his thin fingers moved his bangs toward his temples to reveal blue eyes that shone like a dark, gloomily dark moon.
If it were up to him, he wouldn't have even thought of accepting an invitation to a party that would be full of hints and glances, perhaps a prelude to him bringing up the subject of marriage. But he thought, practically speaking, there's no harm in knowing the situation and seeing the girl. Maybe she would appeal to him and change his entire mind
He fiddled absentmindedly with his shirt buttonhole under the cover of night as he stood next to the carriage that Patrick had bridled, waiting for his grandmother to arrive so they could set off together toward the party that weighed heavily on his heart. Perhaps what comforted him was the knowledge that Harold would never miss a party like that...which would make him a support so he wouldn't make any mistakes.
He couldn't stop his bored eyes from stealing a glance or two at the neighboring house, which was illuminated by an aura of mystery that bothered him. He couldn't get the pretty blonde out of his mind, nor could he quell the pretended fires that burned in his chest.
He didn't say much when his grandmother arrived in her elegant, well-groomed dress, except for a simple greeting before Patrick, the coachman, set off with the horses through the wide avenues and streets of London toward the palace of Baron Alexander Lawrence
The harp's melody swayed softly with the violin's, creating a melody that floated around the vast hall, decorated with crystal chandeliers and lit candles, witnessing the final touches of the ceremony.
Baron Lawrence stood chatting with some of his early and distinguished guests, while servants moved up and down the hall with trays of desserts and glasses of fine wine with agility. The upper level of the house was not entirely cut off from the roaring melodies, which gently caressed the ladies' ears .
The roaring sound gently caressed the ladies' ears.
"Pull more, Freya." Baroness Emilia ordered the maid who tugged the straps of the corset around her young daughter Hazel's chest, who clutched the bedsheets trying to catch her breath and suppress her pain.
"Mother. Is it necessary to wear that corset?" Hazel grumbled, feeling her ribs heave with annoyance as her mother looked at her through the large and small mirrors with a calm, impassive face.
"A corset is the mark of a respectable woman, Hazel. You're nineteen now, so when people look at you at the party, they should see a respectable image of our family."
The teenager couldn't help but listen to her mother because she knew what she didn't. No matter how much she protested, she shouldn't complain. Grown-ups always know what's best for young people. Grown-ups are never wrong
The Baroness gestured to her maid, who set the hairbrush aside and swiveled in her chair, looking down at her daughter, who struggled to stand up straight with her slender waist, and smiled.
"Besides, men always prefer to see women well-groomed and beautiful, with a toned, slim figure. You should look your best tonight, my dear."
"I wish I were a man," Hazel muttered through gritted teeth. Baroness Lawrence's frosty smile widened as she straightened on her heels, stoically walking toward her, before patting her cheek gently.
"It was God's will that you be a woman, Hazel. Let His will be our gift, not our affliction. Understand?"
The teenager blinked silently and nodded meekly .
The town clock struck six chimes, synchronized with the jingling of the horses' bells as they entered the Baron's palace grounds, greeted by a number of servants who welcomed the guests, wearing the reins of the carriages, and those of aristocratic blood, making their way to the ballroom, at the door of which the Baron and his wife stood welcomingly.
"He smiled." Lady Elizabeth ordered Lecent to accompany her grandson as they entered the door of the enormous house, briefly introducing Louis. "I don't want to."
"You have to."
He blinked in annoyance and faked a forced smile, greeting Baron Lawrence, whose face lit up as he opened his arms in greeting and shook his hand very warmly. "Louis, how great of you to grace us tonight with my daughter Hazel's party."
"Thank you, Your Honor."
Louis just wanted to turn around and leave. He was sure these exaggerated greetings were just the usual flourishes and preludes to pave the way for him to bring up the marriage conversation he'd suddenly gotten himself into at any moment that night.
People like that don't waste any time, especially if marriage is a good deal for them. Unlike him, he was imagining a love story and a dream marriage with a woman he knew and who knew him. A woman who would marry him, not someone of his surname.
"Your friend Harold over there has absolutely stolen the show at the cards. I don't think he'll let any of my guests leave with their money tonight," the Baron joked, patting him on the shoulder. Louis was busy looking at Harold's black-tie table, collecting his winnings from the cards, and sighed with relief
"I'll see to it that he doesn't, sir. I assure you." He smiled monotonously before excusing himself, eagerly walking towards Harold, who was grinning with renewed triumph. Louie patted him gently on the back, so he turned around.
"Ah, Louie. I was wondering when you'd be coming." The man with the twisted beliefs began cheerfully, straightening his feet and apologizing to the men before yielding to Louie's pulling him away into a corner where the music of the party had died down and the eyes of the attendees had cleared away from him .
"I hope you're happy with what you've done! You've made my grandmother insist on my marriage, and tonight she's waiting for me to broach the subject with the Baron!" He burst into a whisper, stung with emotion that Harold didn't immediately understand, though he blinked momentarily.
"Baron Lawrence? Wait, did your grandmother choose the Baron's daughter, Hazel?" Surprised, Louie looked stiffly, and he smiled weakly. "Then why the anger? She's young, she's pretty, her family is wealthy, and the Baron is a great investor who would serve you well. Why do you object?"
"You know perfectly well why!" Louie didn't want to dwell on it too much. He eyed his friend with penetrating eyes before Harold opened his mouth in comprehension. "Is this because of your mysterious woman? Didn't you say she rejected your proposal?"
She didn't reject my offer, Harold. Louie gritted his teeth. She hadn't exactly rejected him outright. "And no, it's not about her. You know the circumstances I'm going through, and Grandma doesn't buy it. And I can't marry a girl I've never met before!"
He might have said this as a persuasive argument. But in his decisions, he knew that his slight hope was speaking; his heart wouldn't rest and his decision wouldn't be settled until he'd first had a long, frank conversation with Mrs. Seguin Pallum.
Harold exhaled deeply and put his arm tightly around his shoulder, smiling lightly. "I know how much you dream of marrying for love, Louie. And believe me, love will come with time. And if it doesn't, you can continue to love your woman and please Grandma at the same time."
He didn't comment. He would never understand what was bothering him unless he found himself in the same situation. Harold might have found his unknown woman stubborn and difficult, but Louis was sure she was definitely no tougher than a beautiful blonde who had effortlessly turned him on.
"Oh, shit..." He blinked at Harold's stolen murmur. His brow furrowed in confusion as he saw his eyes sparkle with an intense eagerness that captured an entity that Louis traveled to, looking toward the hall door... where two young women with an aura of beauty had entered .
"I'm not sure about that, Marilla." Wendy Martial expressed uncomfortably, taking in the festive atmosphere and the inconspicuous faces, before looking up at her brightly smiling cousin. "Don't worry too much, Wendy. It's just a night away from everything.
Just one night."
Wendy pursed her lips in deep disbelief. Perhaps it had been a rash decision to listen to her cousin about coming to a party and leaving her young child for the first time in his life just for a change of scenery. She didn't know a single face in the place, and this shook her being uneasy
"That's it!" Harold chanted enthusiastically, clapping Louis's arm several times, his eyes widening as they followed Wendy's every step into the hall with her cousin. It was as if all of Harold's sarcastic talk about attraction and love had evaporated from his mind, and he was now, like a madman, smoothing his hair with a wide grin.
"It's my chance!"
"Harold, don't..." Louis had barely grabbed his arm to stop him from lunging towards her when Baron Lawrence stood in front of him with two glasses of alcohol. He handed one of them to the surprised Louis with a smile.
"...Thank you, Mr. Lawrence."
"I hope Sir Sigrid doesn't get himself into trouble tonight." The Baron gave him a sideways glance as he watched the coiled-haired man cross the entire hall to the other side, before leaning over to whisper to Louis. "Between you and me, even if you have good experience with women, you'll never be able to predict them."
Louis smiled smallly. The man was trying to cultivate relationships with his lighthearted banter. He might have welcomed these attempts if they weren't motivated by another goal that Louis detested before even mentioning.
The man's smile slowly faded without erasing his friendly glare as he turned fully serious to him. "So you're finally back in England. Have you finished your engineering studies at last?"
"Yes. Yes, Mr. Lawrence." Lowe struggled to maintain his interest in this random monotonous talk, though his entire outlook changed as the Baron resumed.
"That's good news. I have a friend... an expert in iron construction. He has placed an order for a new railway and needs a young engineer to assist him with the design. I can suggest you if you are up for it."
"Now that's actually interesting talk."
"Really?" Lowe looked at him with an enthusiasm he didn't want to overdo. But with the opportunity to take advantage of his studies and solve one of his biggest problems, he was high on his head.
"Of course. I wouldn't find anyone more worthy than a man like you, who comes from a family well known for its engineering skills. Lowe, early this morning, I'll call and see how things develop."
"Thank you very much, sir!"
Louis shook his hand warmly and gratefully. The man smiled at her affectionately before they both continued the party's proceedings, drinking, chatting, and playing cards, with a little chat between the two.
Harold hid himself in a corner, sipping some red wine, which calmed his excitement slowly as he watched Wendy and Marilla nearby, talking in whispers. He didn't want to approach her with another woman in tow; it might make the situation very uncomfortable.
"You've got to have some fun, Wendy," Marilla said softly, urging her cousin to overcome her stiffness. Wendy took a deep breath, hearing Harold, who was smiling secretly. "I promise, Marilla. I'll try to enjoy the night."
Marilla smiled happily as Harold joined them with a sickly smile. Wendy's face dried with surprise, and Maria's features tightened with surprise .
Good evening, Mrs. Marchiel. He bowed to her with a sideways glance, knowing how much she wanted to scold him now, as usual, just to embarrass herself from the watching eyes.
"Mr. Sigrid. How lovely to meet you here!" Marilla beamed, Harold leaning forward to kiss her hand gently. "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Richard. But I don't think Mrs. Marchiel feels the same."
"Nonsense! She's just not used to big parties. And she's worried about her little one..."
"Marilla," Wendy interrupted sharply. Marilla swallowed before pointing her fingers in the distance and smiling coquettishly. "I think you're in safe hands now, Wendy. My dear husband calls for me. It was wonderful meeting you, Mr. Sigrid."
"Same feeling, ma'am. Please give my regards to Sir Richard." Harold bowed one last time as the lady left with a small smile, deposited for her cousin, who gave her a warning glance that she ignored as she left her alone with him. Just as he had hoped.
"Wendy then, eh? Just as I expected." He leaned against the wall with his arm, his eyes taking on a familiar mischievous look that narrowed with annoyance. "Mr. Sigrid, I have kept quiet and made no complaint, and you send me flowers every day without fail. But for you to intrude on my conversation with my cousin is unacceptable."
Harold's smile did not waver an inch. He had been expecting her well-trained stubbornness. She was a new and unique species just for him. I can assure you, I did not follow you this time. I thought I would just say hello, and perhaps meet your husband..."
This time she was silent.
He rang her eagerly, anticipating an answer that never came, until his heart leapt with happiness, and his eyes sparkled with a relieved green. "You are not married, Mrs. Marchial?"
"I was." Was all she said briefly, so he did not delve into the matter for fear of disturbing the atmosphere he sought to entertain. He settled down beside her, maintaining his momentary calm, pleased by the fact that she was free of men...which left his door to her ajar .
"Father."
A soft voice entered the conversation between Louis and the Baron, and necks turned to rest on Hazel, who was elegantly dressed in a delicate pink gown, her hair tied in a delicate silver headband that perfectly matched her very young form.
Louis sat up, and the Baron put his arm around the shy girl's shoulder and smiled. "Louis. Perhaps you have never met my dear Hazel."
"You're honored, Miss Lawrence." He shook his neck nobly, and the girl grasped the sides of her gown and bent down with great difficulty and an awkward posture that puzzled him. "The honor is mine, Mr. Leverent."
She looked very young for her nineteen years. Her face flushed with a strong blush, and he didn't know whether it was from extreme shyness or from the breathlessness caused by the corset being pulled so roughly around her tiny body
"Mother told me to tell you that Duke Ernest was looking for you," Hazel declared in a low tone, which earned a nod from the Baron before excusing himself, though Louis knew it was all a ploy by the Baroness to keep her daughter with him.
Hazel exhaled a heavy, shaky breath as she stood next to him, feeling quite nervous about standing alone with a man for the first time. But she had no choice but to obey her mother's command to accompany him, as he was the guest of honor at the party.
"You look very well dressed tonight, Mr. Legrent," she complimented in a forced high tone that surprised him, and Louis slowly knitted his eyebrows. "Same as you, Miss Lawrence."
She bit her tongue again. She could see her mother across the crowd watching them, and she gulped nervously. She didn't want to disappoint her now-adult mother. She wanted to be a good example of the family in front of such a distinguished guest.
"I... I heard that you studied in France, Mr. Legrent." She met his eyes with a quiver. She hoped there was a dialogue she was opening that might draw a sufficient chain of words to satisfy her mother.
"Yes. I studied there for five years."
"Wow!" Her eyes sparkled with amazement that overcame her nervousness. "... I've always dreamed of traveling to France and visiting Paris, but my mother always tells me to wait until I'm married and then he'll take me wherever I want."
For a moment, Louis smiled. She seemed like just a dreamy teenager to him. Perhaps she was the only one in a large circle who didn't know what the adults were planning. She was just an excited girl, anxious to be with a strange man, alone in the garb of a grown woman.
Her features changed suddenly, and her eyes fell in confusion. "... I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, Mr. Legrent. They say I'm too talkative."
His smile broadened, and he nodded, giving her his full attention. "Do you have something you'd love to study there, or do you just want to visit?"
"Drawing! Oh, how I wish I could learn to draw there. I can draw a little now, but I'd like to become as skilled as the French painters. Don't you think that would be beautiful?"
She was enthusiastic, ambitious, and dreamy. He smiled with displeasure at her. He hated that she was the only one who didn't know what was being planned for her future, a conventional marriage that might dash all her hopes in misery.
Because he was certain that he wasn't the husband who would fulfill her dreams.
He suddenly straightened up, his eyes caught by the scent of jasmine that his nose was able to recall with the appearance of the first shadow of a woman who shook his being by entering the hall with confidence, beauty, and uniqueness
Sigin Palom was wrapped in a dress that included a white shirt that tightened around her charms, with a green skirt that pulled at her waist and slid down with slight undulations and puffiness that matched the sleeves of the shirt, which were wide around her forearms and narrow around her wrists, with a green necktie with an elegant silver pin resting on it .
Her dazzling appearance was adorned with her hair falling over her shoulders, embraced by a delicate clip that held her locks that swayed freely as she walked hand in hand with her cheerful-mouthed brother, Simon Palom.
He held his breath fondly.
She may not have caught everyone's attention, but she definitely caught his.
Hazel followed his gaze until her eyes fell on the blonde woman whom her mother had welcomed with her younger brother, to her surprise. "Wow. Mrs. Palom! My mother really didn't think she'd come tonight. Doesn't she look beautiful?"
"Yes." He didn't hold back his tongue from confessing. It was as if all his threats had been refreshed, as always, with her appearance. All the anger he had possessed had vanished, leaving only the taste of his infatuation with her and her charm for him
"My mother doesn't like her very much. She says she does things that are against tradition and speaks with a boldness that no respectable woman should have. But I see the opposite. She is a woman who has overcome all her sorrows and kept her dreams despite all the circumstances." Hazel continued her long speech, which interrupted her penetrating observation of the blonde's movements.
"At her last party, I saw amazing, beautiful paintings in her house, and I was amazed when she told me she painted them all! Isn't she an exceptional woman?"
Louis smiled. How he would have loved to hear what that girl had to say about her, to see that look in her eyes, looking up at her as if she were an example she wanted to follow. He was happy to find someone who saw her as he did
The harp played the first notes of an opening dance to the ceremony. The Baron and Baroness moved beneath the radar to the center of the hall, leading the way, followed by the various duets of duchesses and lords.
Harold glanced sideways at Wendy, who stood still and sullen, and leaned over to her, smiling. "Would you like to give me this dance, Mrs. Marchiel?"
"I promised Mrs. Richard that she would have fun tonight, whatever that fun was." He reminded her, a sideways smile forming on her lips. She was annoyed, annoyed by his presence... even if she gave up in despair when there was no hope of his departure.
She sighed, letting her hand rest halfheartedly between his features, so he smiled. "My agreement is not an acceptance of your manipulative approach to me, Mr. Sigrid." She warned him, foreshadowing, and Harold nodded, knowing that he would break her ice sooner or later.
Hazel stood, rubbing her fists together nervously. Louis noticed this from his observation of the blonde who had secluded herself in a quiet corner, sipping wine without agreeing to extend her hand to someone's request to dance, so he smiled.
"Would you... like to dance, Mr. Legrent?" Her face was stained with blood as she asked shyly, which woke him up, so he pursed his lips in understanding, his head in agreement. "Sure. Yes."
They cut through the dancers to a spot where he could get a clear view of the far corners while he adjusted his posture with the girl, who barely stood upright. She could barely control her dancing or avoid stepping on his foot with her unsteady steps.
She really wanted to throw off the confines of the corset around her body.
"You dance brilliantly." Harold whispered softly, feeling Wendy's hand resist relaxing in his gentle embrace. She met his eyes, her sores glistening with the candle flames, and settled. "So do you."
She was enjoying the atmosphere, though she didn't show it. She was amused by his presence, though she denied it
"You've given me a very hard week, Mrs. Marchiel. I couldn't think about anything else but you." He maintained his soft voice as he shook his head slightly, a thin smile forming at the corner of her lips. "I seem to be a bad influence on you, Mr. Sigrid."
Very bad. "He admitted that Paul didn't know how he'd gotten into it, while he gently twirled her in his arm as his heart swelled with passion. Like someone with a fever, he fell unconscious.
When the opening dance ended, Louis's feet were moaning in pain. Hazel kept apologizing, but he was already excusing her. She wasn't in control of her movements because of those high shoes and the harsh corset.
Women certainly go through a lot of elaborate displays to look their best. How exhausting.
"How lovely you two! You've settled in so quickly, haven't you?" Baroness Amelia greeted them with a welcome that she shared with his grandmother, who smiled with satisfaction. Louis let go of Hazel's hand and smirked. "Yes. Can you excuse Tamoni for a while?"
He didn't give the two women a chance to ask, nor did he give his grandmother's reproachful look to them. He couldn't stand it any longer. As soon as he dropped Hazel off, he turned among the attendees, eagerly searching with his eyes until he laid eyes on her.
She was standing next to the vast balcony, the wind seeping in from behind the velvet curtains, playing with her hair coquettishly, while she contemplated one of the hanging paintings with a serenity that was distracted by his standing next to her, even though she didn't move or turn around.
"This move is bold of you," she began. As usual, she spoke with ambiguity that he was able to resolve this time, knowing that she was talking about his coming to her with everyone's eyes surrounding her, but she had no idea how much he had anticipated that meeting for days.
"You've been avoiding me for some time."
"I'm not avoiding. I just didn't want to see you."
He clenched his jaws together. She was being too direct, and that bothered him. She kept teasing him and enjoying seeing him confused, but that would end tonight. He would put an end to it tonight .
"Very bad." Paul admitted, not knowing what had happened to him, as he gently twirled her in his arm as his heart swelled with passion. Like someone with a fever, he fell unconscious.
When the opening dance ended, Louis's feet were groaning in pain. Hazel kept apologizing, but he was already excusing her. She wasn't in control of her movements because of those high heels and the harsh corset.
Women certainly go through a lot of elaborate displays to look their best. How exhausting.
"How lovely you two! You've settled in so quickly, haven't you?" Baroness Amelia greeted them with a welcome that she shared with his grandmother, who smiled with satisfaction. Louis let go of Hazel's hand and smiled smirk. "Yes. Will you excuse me for a while?"
He didn't give the two women a chance to ask questions, nor did he give them his grandmother's reproachful look. He couldn't stand it any longer. As soon as he dropped Hazel off, he turned among the attendees, searching eagerly until he laid eyes on her.
She was standing next to the vast balcony, the wind seeping in from behind the velvet curtains, playing with her hair coquettishly, while she contemplated one of the hanging paintings with a serenity that was distracted by his standing next to her, even though she didn't move or turn around.
"That's a bold move of you," she began. As usual, she spoke vaguely, which he was able to resolve this time, knowing that she was talking about his coming to her with everyone's eyes surrounding her. However, she had no idea how much he had anticipated that meeting for days.
"You've been avoiding me for some time."
"I'm not avoiding. I just didn't want to see you."
He clenched his jaws together. She was being too direct, and it bothered him. She kept teasing him and enjoying seeing him confused, but that would end tonight. He would put an end to it tonight.
"She didn't answer my question. He watched her face lighten as she finally turned to face him, her steady green eyes contrasting with his persistent blue ones. "What question?"
You know which question I'm talking about.
I'd love to hear it from you again.
How he hated her cold manner. How he loved to rebuke her for doing that to him. What was so special about Arthur Nicholas that she should simply bestow her features upon him while he played along at full gallop? For the first time in his life, he hated the effect his feelings had on him.
"I want you to marry me," he demanded in a whisper, his eyes softening with a tenderness so intense that it contrasted with his heart, which throbbed with heat. He feared her silence again, and that it would wear out his minutes of patience, even if she exhaled after a few moments, acknowledging it. "This isn't real. You've only known me for a few days."
"And they were enough for me to truly recognize you."
He fixed her on a determined gaze, and with an urgent look, he met her eyes, which were veiled in a completely serious mask, and her lips straightened as the few inches between them tightened, pulling him closer
"Are you ready to face the eyes of the entire world with me?"
Is he ready to face everyone's eyes with her? Is he ready to stand before his grandmother with her? Is he ready to ignore the rumors about her and weave an eternal thread of love between their hearts despite everyone's opposition?
All of these questions passed through his mind with her direct question. All of them stopped him in his tracks, hesitant and confused. Is he really ready for all of this?
"Yes."
Despite his answer, she wasn't satisfied. She frowned as she moved away from his soft, uncertain tone. "I'm looking for a man who doesn't hesitate for long about his decision, Mr. Legrent. I want a man who sees me with his own eyes, not others'."
He found nothing in his pocket to prevent her from retreating as a final end to their conversation. He sighed in despair as she went behind the curtain, where the night breeze welcomed her with its grace and passion. He blinked hesitantly at his grandmother's signal from afar for him to return, but he was firm in his decision as he followed her to the cool balcony .
The wind allowed him to inhale the jasmine nectar he had fallen in love with. She looked like a mermaid in her captivating dress, her hair flying rebelliously, making him instantly catch his breath. How beautiful she was.
He leaned on the railing next to her silently; she gave him a sideways glance and smiled lightly.
"You are indeed a stubborn man, Mr. Legerent."
"I'm not used to giving up so quickly."
Her lips quirked in a smile after his statement, her eyes roaming the sky with apparent calm. "And I'm used to men asking to marry me. So tell me, Mr. Legerent... what makes you different from others?"
"Others don't see you the way I do." He informed her without a moment's hesitation, warmly capturing her hand, forcing her to look into his eyes, which softened with passion. "...and my name is Louis."
She remained still. She didn't remove her hand from his embracing fingers. He felt the breeze embrace them tightly, and for the first minute, he noticed how little space there was between them, as he managed to detail her irises thread by thread.
"Why do you want to marry me?" She maintained his whispering tone, keeping their position close together. He was engulfed in the flames of his heart's longing, which drummed adoringly against his ribs. This was the most sincere moment he had ever experienced in his life.
"I won't say like others that I want you. But I want you my way, not theirs."
"Don't be a philosopher with me."
Her smile played on his lips. He could feel how she was evading him, closing the distance between them moment by moment, knowing that he wouldn't do anything she wouldn't do first. He could feel himself melting.
"I'm just trying to do what you do."
What an unexpected, feverish moment it was. He could barely keep his eyes on hers, not noticing her lips moving softly.
"Do you really love me?"
"What do you see? I'm not used to being insistent. But look at me in front of you now." He was in the last image he could imagine himself in. Drunken with breath, surrounded by jasmine nectar, inches away from his lips meeting the lips of the woman of his obsession.
"Prove it." Her eyes revealed a firm, defiant look, making him look at her with confusion. "Get on your knees now and ask for my hand in marriage. Right here, where everyone can see you."
Stiff. His heart was as still as a dead crow.
She was asking him to marry her, right there and then, on that very night. God, he wanted to do it so badly, but he couldn't let his mind wander so far as to ruin things and break Hazel's dreamy heart at her party. He couldn't do it.
He pursed his lips reluctantly. He looked into her eyes, hoping she would understand his troubled, desirous but reluctant gaze. He didn't want her to think he didn't mean what he said... because it meant more to him than anything else.
"You see? This is nothing but a fever, Mr. Legrent. And I can't marry a man who has a flying fever of love; one day he'll be cured and I'll be like any other woman in his eyes."
She suddenly moved her hand away from his touch, making him shiver with coldness. The side smile returned to her face once more as she gave him that glassy look on a dull, languid path.
"..and I'm not like any other woman."
She ended her sentence with her sudden withdrawal, trying to rob him of the warmth of their touch as she left his disappointed looks and his heartbeats thumping with resentment. He wiped his face with a deep sigh, remaining where he was for a while.
This was definitely a coup he hadn't expected on that fat night.
She wasn't against their marriage, but she wanted him to prove his worthiness first. To show what he said in his actions. To throw away everyone's whispers and reveal his innermost feelings in public.
He didn't know how long he remained lost in thought, but when he went back inside, he didn't find her among the crowd, so he sighed. Perhaps she wanted to confirm his true feelings or was just playing with him. Either way, he failed to get her out of his head.
No sooner had he turned around to look for Harold in the crowd than he bumped into his grandmother's extremely angry Zarqawi, standing in front of her with a stern face. "You should have an explanation for your behavior tonight, Louis William Legrent!"
She muttered a murmur to his ears and left him to lament his misfortune. Here was another problem he had never imagined the night would end with.
It was pitch black. The moon hung like a senile old woman, witnessing a restless night that had never seen a thread of gentle pleasure, or hearts that were darkened and could not see anything to cheer them up. But that did not apply to all adventurous hearts.
"See you soon, Mrs. Marchiel." Harold kissed Wendy's fist gently. This time she smiled at him with intoxicating sincerity as she bowed lightly. "Don't be so sure, Mr. Sigrid. But I thank you for the night."
He maintained his fond smile as he watched her get into her cousin Marilla's carriage before turning on his heels in a stunned manner, getting into Legrint's carriage and sitting next to Louis, who stared blankly out at his grandmother, his jaw set.
"Thank you for letting me join you for dinner, Mrs. Legrint." He broke the electricity of the moment with a smile, but received no answer or eye movement that made him frown in incomprehension.
Patrick moved through the streets quickly, the atmosphere in the carriage filled with confusion that Harold couldn't explain, and he tried to break the silence again. "It's been a wonderful night."
And he received no reply.
He pursed his lips and busied himself with his fingers, puzzled, without giving any second thought to breaking the harsh silence, dwelling on the fresh memory of the night the rest of the way to the LeGrents' house.
With Louis's last step into the house, he heard the click of his grandmother's cane on the floor as she waited in the study, where he had dragged his heels with a weight that Harold had ignorantly followed.
"I'll just help myself." The Twisted One said as an overture as he poured some wine into a glass and slumped on a bench by the fireplace, where Louis leaned back, watching the fireballs fight away from his grandmother's scorching gaze.
"Of all the foolish things you've done in your life, Louis, tonight was the foolest of all." The older woman spoke, her voice thick and her eyes blaming him. Louis felt them hit his back. He didn't speak
"Leaving Hazel and simply going off to flirt with a corrupt and dubious woman like Sigin Palom with everyone watching is not allowed, Louie!"
Harold sipped his drink in surprise and gave Louie wide-lids. "Holy crap! Did you flirt with Sigin Palom?"
"You're no better off, and you've gone off to hang out with Quindi Marcheal's woman—of mysterious repute!" The woman turned angrily, and he raised his hands in relief. "Don't drag me into this, Mrs. Legrent. I only came for dinner."
The woman snorted, turning her piercing gaze back on her grandson. "I should have known that your meeting with her in Ilgan would not go unnoticed. She took advantage of your naivety and inexperience to weave her web around you, use her tricks, and make you her own!"
"You met her in Ilgan?" Harold repeated, commenting in surprise, though neither of them seemed to be giving in to their own impulsive outbursts during the tense situation .
"But I'm telling you, Louie. I won't have you sullying the family name with rumors that will emerge about you and this woman!" His grandmother paused, slumping onto a bench with a worried expression. Word would surely get around now. God, I can't imagine our name being associated with such a dubious family as the Palloms. This is a disaster.
Louie didn't move an inch. Harold watched the scene with the attention of someone watching a tragicomedy. The old lady glanced at her grandson's molar back and became agitated. "Are you going to stay silent like this? Say anything that will justify what you did tonight!"
He stood there. The lashes of fire reflected harshly across his grim face, his dark blue eyes illuminated by the blackness of the fighting tongues. An uneasy quiet reigned for a time, broken by his terse, firm voice.
"I have asked to marry Seven Pallom."
**