*As much as I would love to own them all, the only characters that I own
are Lord and Lady Dalphton, Lord and Lady Roxton, Mrs. Watson, Olivia
Barnett and Janine Carson.
Chance Encounter 1906
"Marguerite, you will behave yourself, I will not allow you to make a spectacle like you made at the Barclay party" Lady Dalphton strongly informed her granddaughter. "Yes, grandmother" 16-year-old Marguerite replied. "You look beautiful" Marguerite's grandfather, Lord Dalphton, gently squeezed her hand. "Thank you grandfather" she smiled. It had been six years since she was picked up by her grandparent's chauffer. There were times when it was good, when she was spending time with her grandfather. But most of the time, she hated it.
Marguerite hated these balls and even more, she hated the people who attended these balls. It was a glorified meat market where anxious parents and chaperones eyed the attendees, sizing up who was or wasn't good enough for their child. She would have preferred spending her time with Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper, who was an actress in her youth.
Mrs. Watson traveled all over Europe and even to America, wearing beautiful gowns and attracting the most eligible, handsome men. Marguerite would have loved to see Paris, she had never been there. But instead she was stuck here, attending another boring ball, where she would most likely get pawed by some gentleman twice her age or even worse, forced to sit with the girls her age where the main topic of conversation would be focused on who was wearing what and what lord had recently been titled.
Joseph sighed. He was caught in between two equally strong women. Neither was willing to admit how alike they really were. Marguerite was becoming a fine young woman, a good head on her shoulders, intelligent and capable. These six years had been wonderful, as if Jason had come back to them, even if Henrietta was too stubborn to admit it. Having Marguerite living with them was as if a breath of air had returned to the house.
"John!" his mother's shrill voice was heard throughout the house. Fixing his tie one last time, he called out "Coming, mother". Twenty-year-old John hated these parties; they were for William, not for him. William was the heir; he would get it all one day. The house, the title, the seat in the House of Lords and frankly, William could have it. John would have preferred being with his Uncle Jack, who, according to the last letter, was in the Congo. Dear Johnny Boy, today we caught the most magnificent sight. A hippo giving birth, it was Mother Nature at her best. The rainy season is almost over; we've been stuck inside for what seems like forever. Give my love to the family, Uncle Jack.
"Lady Dalphton, how are you? How is your mother?" Lady Roxton eagerly greeted her guests. "I'm fine, my mother is spending a few months with some cousins in Cannes, the doctor feels that the warm weather would improve her health" Lady Roxton said. "Marguerite, you remember Lady Roxton?" Lady Dalphton turned to her granddaughter. "How lovely to see you again, Lady Roxton" Marguerite pasted on a fake smile. "John, William, this is Marguerite, Lady Dalphton's granddaughter" Lady Roxton introduced her sons. "Milady" they both bowed. Again, pasting on a smile, she curtsied and inwardly, rolled her eyes.
"Excuse me" she excused herself. Picking up a glass of champagne, she found a seat and began what would be a long evening. "Excuse me, are you Marguerite Dalphton?" two women asked. Taking a long sip, Marguerite replied "yes". "I heard about you. My name is Olivia Barnett and this is Janine Carson" the women introduced themselves. "Charmed" again Marguerite forced down another gulp of champagne.
"Which one is more handsome? William or John?" Janine asked. "I don't know. William in the heir, but John is the cad" Olivia replied. Where as William was lighter in color with gold flecks in his hair with mischievous blue eyes, John was darker with green eyes that belied something, Marguerite wasn't sure what. "Marguerite, which one do you think is more handsome?" Olivia turned to her. "Huh?" the brunette turned back to the blonde. "I asked you who is more handsome, William or John?" Olivia repeated. "I wouldn't have either of them, excuse me" her barely contained boredom was easily read on her face. "No wonder she hasn't been courted..." Janine whispered to Olivia as Marguerite walked away.
Walking up a flight of stairs that led to a semi-private balcony, Marguerite mumbled "get me out of here", not noticing John half drunk, slouching on a chair. "Aren't you a little young to drink?" he asked. "At least I know where my limits are" her quipped. "Touché, milady" he thought. He had noticed her when she walked in; she wasn't one of those society girls his mother kept pushing on him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she stood out.
"You look as bored as I am," he told her. "You have no idea" Marguerite replied. "Here's to hoping this end's soon" he held up his glass. "Here here" Marguerite replied, gulping down the last of the champagne in the glass. "Care to dance?" the music started to playing below. "Why not" she replied. They danced around the room, forgetting the party below.
Before they knew it, they were kissing each other, hungrily, as if something had been awakened inside them. Below, an annoyed Lady Dalphton searched for her granddaughter. "Marguerite, Marguerite!" she called. "Where is that blasted girl?" the older woman thought. Noticing the balcony, she walked in. In horror, she spotted the empty glasses and the young couple embracing.
"Marguerite Elizabeth, what in blazes are you doing?" the couple immediately broke up. "It was my fault, Lady Dalphton" he let his hand wander down her waist as they both burst out laughing. "Young man, take your hands off my granddaughter right now" she demanded as Lady Roxton walked in. "John, are you drunk?" his mother was equally enraged. "No mother, I just had a few glasses" again the young couple burst out laughing.
"Lady Dalphton, I am so sorry, John is not himself lately" Lady Roxton apologized. "No, Marguerite is also to blame. Marguerite, we are going home now" Lady Dalphton pulled her granddaughter out of the room. "Goodbye, Marguerite" John called out. "John, really" he mother started to scold him, but he wasn't listening. He was thinking about her intense gray-green eyes and the exquisite feeling of his lips on hers.
Present Day
John woke up to feeling of hair ticking his nose. She lay beside him, he hair spread out on her pillow, her head leaning on his bare chest. Their lovemaking that night had been furious and intense, leaving their control and their clothes behind. He remembered that party and that first kiss. He gently kissed her cheek before falling back to sleep with his arm wrapped around her waist, grateful that she was in his life.
The End
Chance Encounter 1906
"Marguerite, you will behave yourself, I will not allow you to make a spectacle like you made at the Barclay party" Lady Dalphton strongly informed her granddaughter. "Yes, grandmother" 16-year-old Marguerite replied. "You look beautiful" Marguerite's grandfather, Lord Dalphton, gently squeezed her hand. "Thank you grandfather" she smiled. It had been six years since she was picked up by her grandparent's chauffer. There were times when it was good, when she was spending time with her grandfather. But most of the time, she hated it.
Marguerite hated these balls and even more, she hated the people who attended these balls. It was a glorified meat market where anxious parents and chaperones eyed the attendees, sizing up who was or wasn't good enough for their child. She would have preferred spending her time with Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper, who was an actress in her youth.
Mrs. Watson traveled all over Europe and even to America, wearing beautiful gowns and attracting the most eligible, handsome men. Marguerite would have loved to see Paris, she had never been there. But instead she was stuck here, attending another boring ball, where she would most likely get pawed by some gentleman twice her age or even worse, forced to sit with the girls her age where the main topic of conversation would be focused on who was wearing what and what lord had recently been titled.
Joseph sighed. He was caught in between two equally strong women. Neither was willing to admit how alike they really were. Marguerite was becoming a fine young woman, a good head on her shoulders, intelligent and capable. These six years had been wonderful, as if Jason had come back to them, even if Henrietta was too stubborn to admit it. Having Marguerite living with them was as if a breath of air had returned to the house.
"John!" his mother's shrill voice was heard throughout the house. Fixing his tie one last time, he called out "Coming, mother". Twenty-year-old John hated these parties; they were for William, not for him. William was the heir; he would get it all one day. The house, the title, the seat in the House of Lords and frankly, William could have it. John would have preferred being with his Uncle Jack, who, according to the last letter, was in the Congo. Dear Johnny Boy, today we caught the most magnificent sight. A hippo giving birth, it was Mother Nature at her best. The rainy season is almost over; we've been stuck inside for what seems like forever. Give my love to the family, Uncle Jack.
"Lady Dalphton, how are you? How is your mother?" Lady Roxton eagerly greeted her guests. "I'm fine, my mother is spending a few months with some cousins in Cannes, the doctor feels that the warm weather would improve her health" Lady Roxton said. "Marguerite, you remember Lady Roxton?" Lady Dalphton turned to her granddaughter. "How lovely to see you again, Lady Roxton" Marguerite pasted on a fake smile. "John, William, this is Marguerite, Lady Dalphton's granddaughter" Lady Roxton introduced her sons. "Milady" they both bowed. Again, pasting on a smile, she curtsied and inwardly, rolled her eyes.
"Excuse me" she excused herself. Picking up a glass of champagne, she found a seat and began what would be a long evening. "Excuse me, are you Marguerite Dalphton?" two women asked. Taking a long sip, Marguerite replied "yes". "I heard about you. My name is Olivia Barnett and this is Janine Carson" the women introduced themselves. "Charmed" again Marguerite forced down another gulp of champagne.
"Which one is more handsome? William or John?" Janine asked. "I don't know. William in the heir, but John is the cad" Olivia replied. Where as William was lighter in color with gold flecks in his hair with mischievous blue eyes, John was darker with green eyes that belied something, Marguerite wasn't sure what. "Marguerite, which one do you think is more handsome?" Olivia turned to her. "Huh?" the brunette turned back to the blonde. "I asked you who is more handsome, William or John?" Olivia repeated. "I wouldn't have either of them, excuse me" her barely contained boredom was easily read on her face. "No wonder she hasn't been courted..." Janine whispered to Olivia as Marguerite walked away.
Walking up a flight of stairs that led to a semi-private balcony, Marguerite mumbled "get me out of here", not noticing John half drunk, slouching on a chair. "Aren't you a little young to drink?" he asked. "At least I know where my limits are" her quipped. "Touché, milady" he thought. He had noticed her when she walked in; she wasn't one of those society girls his mother kept pushing on him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she stood out.
"You look as bored as I am," he told her. "You have no idea" Marguerite replied. "Here's to hoping this end's soon" he held up his glass. "Here here" Marguerite replied, gulping down the last of the champagne in the glass. "Care to dance?" the music started to playing below. "Why not" she replied. They danced around the room, forgetting the party below.
Before they knew it, they were kissing each other, hungrily, as if something had been awakened inside them. Below, an annoyed Lady Dalphton searched for her granddaughter. "Marguerite, Marguerite!" she called. "Where is that blasted girl?" the older woman thought. Noticing the balcony, she walked in. In horror, she spotted the empty glasses and the young couple embracing.
"Marguerite Elizabeth, what in blazes are you doing?" the couple immediately broke up. "It was my fault, Lady Dalphton" he let his hand wander down her waist as they both burst out laughing. "Young man, take your hands off my granddaughter right now" she demanded as Lady Roxton walked in. "John, are you drunk?" his mother was equally enraged. "No mother, I just had a few glasses" again the young couple burst out laughing.
"Lady Dalphton, I am so sorry, John is not himself lately" Lady Roxton apologized. "No, Marguerite is also to blame. Marguerite, we are going home now" Lady Dalphton pulled her granddaughter out of the room. "Goodbye, Marguerite" John called out. "John, really" he mother started to scold him, but he wasn't listening. He was thinking about her intense gray-green eyes and the exquisite feeling of his lips on hers.
Present Day
John woke up to feeling of hair ticking his nose. She lay beside him, he hair spread out on her pillow, her head leaning on his bare chest. Their lovemaking that night had been furious and intense, leaving their control and their clothes behind. He remembered that party and that first kiss. He gently kissed her cheek before falling back to sleep with his arm wrapped around her waist, grateful that she was in his life.
The End