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The first sight
Edward Cullen, the Duke of Alsworth, glowered coldly at the woman in front of him, yet she jabbered on unaware.
But then again, Lady Jessica Stanley, the daughter of the Earl of Stanford was not known for her wits. The woman could barely tell one end of the broom from the other.
Unfortunately, she was also the type of vapid hussies who flocked around him.
Being a Duke, who was also one of the most powerful members of the peerage and the scion of an illustrious and extremely wealthy family, garnered him great attention. Furthermore, his bachelorhood and lack of attachment with any lady was enough to have match-making Mamas and their equally eager daughters, flock around him like ravens about a piece of carrion.
And as if that were not enough, the young Duke also cut an impressive and a very handsome figure. High cheekbones, strong jawline, tousled hair that were a brilliant amalgam of red, golden and brown- a beautiful shade of bronze and his strapping, lean stature, gave him quite the look of a perfect specimen of a virile male...a pagan God of masculinity. However, it were his eyes, which were the colour of a tropical lagoon-an enchanting shade of emerald, which captivated the ladies.
The intense eyes that gave the impression as if he could see through a person, the eyes that had never held any warmth or emotions of gaiety; the ones which had always emoted a terrifying coldness and ruthlesness, which marked his personality.
Yet, it still did not stop women to seek him out, for what mattered the personality of a husband who had more wealth than the combined coffers of several of the peerage?
Hence, the unmindful rhapsodizing of Lady Jessica, another of money-grubbing social climbers who had deluded herself to be in love with the handsome Duke.
It was the same sordid tale everywhere he went and tonight was no different.
He had no idea how wrong he was!
It was as he yearned to control his mounting ire, when it happened. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied a flash of a delicate shade of sapphire, which for some reason, commanded his attention.
He glanced up instinctively, and his breath caught. His eyes locked with pools of molten chocolate so deep, that he felt himself drowning in their endless depth. They brimmed with an innocence so pure, so pious, the likes of which he had never experienced. Like a siren's call they entranced him and he stared in her eyes, unable to tear himself away from her. He doubted that the beauty of her eyes could be captured by even the greatest of Masters.
All too soon, the owner of those enchanting eyes averted her gaze from his, blushing furiously and Edward was mesmerised. He watched as a most delectable shade of crimson adorned her ivory cheeks. Lustrous mahogany curls were set atop her head in an elaborate hairdo, a few rebellious tendrils framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. She was small, her petite frame clad in a simple gown of sapphire, which embraced her soft curves most becomingly. Her flawless skin was flushed beguilingly and radiated a healthy glow in the bright light of multiple sconces that lit the cavernous hall. Her fragile fingers clutched her reticule tightly, as she turned away from him slightly, perhaps uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny.
At this, Edward took a step forward, to stop her, to beseech her to not hide her beautiful face from him. He felt like a blind man who beheld the sun for the first time, her beauty rivalled with the Aphrodite herself!
However, at that moment, hands clutched at his arms as Lady Jessica all but hung onto him, a coquettish smile on her face. Impatiently, the Duke turned towards her, wrenching himself free from her claws with a hasty excuse.
But, as he turned around, he found, to his deep consternation, that he had lost his beauty in the swell of the crowd of the theater. Angered with Lady Jessica, he threw her a look of deep disdain and hastily set out to search for the lady who had so captivated him, but to no avail.
As he walked, scrutinising each and every face, he was unaware of the people who greeted him and took offence at his ignoring them so blatantly. But, propriety mattered not for him, for he was determined to find her, his beauty.
So, like a man possessed,he searched for her, a strange void gaping in his chest. Although he was loath to admit of her power on him, in his heart of hearts he knew he missed her desperately. Even though he had beheld her for mere moments, it had been enough to captivate him. It was as if she had cast a spell on him, robbing him of his senses. He had never felt so unsettled, so...empty.
His search was, however cut short as the bell signalling the start of the play, Much ado about nothing, rang, and he had to reluctantly move towards his box with others.
"Edward, what is it?" His Aunt, Lady Esme Cullen, the Countess of Eldenworth, questioned, picking on his restlesness.
She had been his mother in everything but blood, for his mother had died when he was six. Lady Esme had raised him as her own, insisting that he be left with her at Alton Woods, their ancestral home. She did not wish to leave him with his father. Edmund Cullen, the then Duke of Alsworth, and Edward's father, had been a cold man who indulged in every possible vice imaginable.
He gambled, visited numerous brothels and had multiple mistreresses. His only redeeming quality had been that at least he had been careful enough to not to sire bastards, else perhaps a quarter of London would have been teeming with his illegitimate children. He had been a libertine of epic proportion.
And in the end, his own actions had caught up with him, as he succumbed to a disease born owing to his own vice. Although the ton thought that the old Duke had died due to consumption, only she, her husband, Lord Carlisle Cullen, the Earl of Eldenworth, who was incidentally also Edmund's cousin, and Edward knew the truth. Edmund Cullen, the sixth Duke of Alsworth, had succumbed to French disease.
So, as she watched Edward restlessly scan the crowd, his face which always wore an impenetrable mask of impassivity and coldness, alit with anticipation and frustration, she instinctively knew that something had happened.
"Its nothing, Aunt. I am merely eager to see the play, for I have heard rave reviews of the competency and prowess of this group." He lied smoothly, and to an outsider,it was a perfect excuse, for he was indeed known for his knowledge and interest in literature, but Esme knew better.
Although, she chose to not press her nephew further, she observed him quietly and hence, was quite astounded when she saw his face light up. She had never seen an expression of such great rapture on his face, ergo she followed his sight and nearly had a coronary!
Eyes wide with disbelief, she glanced from Edward to the young lady and back, the poise for which she was known in the ton, forgotten. At first, she wondered if she had had too much wine and was tipsy, but when her nephew continued to gaze at the young lady with the look of a parched man, who came upon an oasis in a desert, her suspicions were confirmed. Her nephew was infatuated.
A huge smile spread across her face and it was all she could do to not break in fits of giggles and clapping like a young girl. That shall surely land her in Bedlam!
Still, even with the imminent threat of Bedlam, she was unable to hide her glee which did not go unnoticed by either her husband or son.
"Darling?" Lord Carlisle asked perplexed, bemused to find his wife so excited, for she was all but vibrating in her seat with giddiness.
"Oh, look at him! How he stares at her! Finally after so many years, and it is no wonder, for she is indeed so beautiful. Now, I must only find her identity and then the Archbishop..." Lady Esme whispered frantically, her happiness clouding her wits.
"What are you talking about, Mother?" Lord Emmet Cullen, the Viscount Aberly asked.
Lady Esme turned with great annoyance to her husband and son and discreetly pointed out Edward who was oblivious to them, lost as he was in staring at his beauty.
Both the Earl and the Viscount gaped unattractively at the Duke and performed the same motion of bewildered gazing as Lady Esme. However, unlike her they were rendered speechless, for it was indeed a miracle to find Edward staring so unabashedly at a woman, when he had always sworn off of the fairer sex.
"Oh, Carlisle, look how he stares at her. We must find out who she is." She whispered, leaning on her husband.
"That's the Box of Barringtons, the Duke of Wiltshire." Lord Emmet murmured, peering through his opera glasses.
"And an illustrious family too. Perhaps she is a relative. This is getting better!" Lady Esme squealed, rubbing her hands together.
So, for the rest of duration of the play, whilst Edward spent staring at the young lady, his Aunt, Lady Esme spent scheming as to how soon she could get her nephew to enter matrimony with the young girl. Even her husband's comment to not get too excited, for they knew not whether the girl was unmarried, fell on deaf ear. Somehow, Lady Esme was confident as to the girl still being a maiden.
All too soon, the play ended and the lights dimmed, breaking the Duke's abstraction.
"What a splendid play it was. Won't you agree, Cousin?" The Viscount grinned mischievously.
"Ah, yes it was." The Duke replied calmly, and led the way out of the theatre.
All around them people laughed and chatted merrily, but Edward followed the young lady who so commanded his attention. As he watched, she threw her head back and giggled, exposing her swan-like neck, and he gulped, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
However, his good humour vanished and a fearsome scowl marred his face as a man walked up to her and kissed her gloved hand. Edward watched as she blushed prettily, but the shy smile that she gave him cemented his resolve.
From a tender age, Edward had borne witness to such callousness and cruelty which no child should experience. He was broken beyond repair, too bitter and caustic. He saw no good in people and never allowed them near him, except his uncle's family. He had sworn off of love, for he believed it to be a mere illusion.
The flight of fancy of fools.
All that spoke was money, influence and power. Hence, he had strived to have them, to be formidable and unstoppable, donning a mask of coldness, for years.
Yet here he was.
His years of rigid control was rendered to shreds by a mere slip of a girl. He was unmanned, the emotions he had never felt, rising in his chest.
Throughout the night, he had warred with himself, his shadowy past refusing to allow him to feel...whatever it was he was feeling for the lady, yet one look at her with another man, solved his dilemma.
He had to simply possess her, to make her his. He had to tie her to him in every possible way.
Any beau or husband of hers shall be done away with, for he cannot bear the thought of another with her.
He was Edward Cullen, the Duke of Alsworth, who had always gotten what he had desired, and by God, he shall have her.
There were simply no two ways about it!
