Okay, the second chapter.:) No major things changed here, just some small facts to make it fit in with Miguel's story.
You might notice that Tayce and Miguel have different views of things, and what really happened. It's supposed to be that way. If you have two persons, they don't experience the same situation the same way.
I don't know if I'm going to succeed with this, but if this doesn't work, well, then I'll just have to redo it again. I have a plot, I have everything planned. And it's gooood. ;)

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I had always possessed what my mother used to call an unnatural and disastrous curiosity for things that were not my business. I remember the games I played as a young girl. When we played Hide and Seek, my friends would never let me count because I always looked. I couldn't stand being left in the dark, without any clue to where the others were heading.

When I grew older, I got less outspoken about my curiosity though it had to no degree lessened. My mother came from an old noble family, but had run away with the neighbour's boy, and followed him to the convent where he studied to become a priest. They later married, and her parents in the end gave their blessing to the happy, young couple. They had a good marriage, a love match, something very unusual among nobility. Sadly, my mother only had one child, me. She took ill soon after my birth, and the illness prevented her from having anymore children. This hurt my father very much. He loved children, and I believe that he never got over that my birth was the reason that he could have no more. My mother spoiled me a little, since I was her only child. My father was often busy with his work, but my mother educated me in being a lady. She did not want me to become a priest wife, but marry back into nobility. She had gotten a decent dowry from her parents when she married, and she used it to give me all the proper schooling that were required. Now when I was to become something of a lady and attract suitors, my mother forbade me to pry so much into things that I had no business looking into. Of course, I didn't listen. I just learned how to hide my prying. I became an observer instead of a doer, letting my eyes take in every last detail of everything I saw. When I accidentally told on of my wealthier suitors something I shouldn't have known and ruined all prospects of marrying him, I decided to hide my skills even more.

You might see me, now that you've heard part of my story, as a cold and unfeeling person. I assure you, that is not the case. I am simply guarded. I can feel and I do feel as much as everyone else.

Anyway, when I was sixteen, my mother and father died suddenly out of an illness that nearly claimed my life too. I finally recovered, but I had lost a great deal of weight, were very weak and had no immediate family left. An aunt of mine made it possible for me to move to Paris and since my family had been quite rich, even though my father only was a priest, my first months in Paris were pleasant ones. I spent most of my time in the more wealthy parts of Paris, enjoying myself with parties, dinners and walks. I met with the social elite of the city, learning how to converse properly, how to flirt, how to be courted and how to dance and smile without making implications of more severe nature than the one I intended. I had several crushes on the wealthy, charming young men, One of the was called Miguel Mantillo, and he was the second son of the Portuguese ambassador in France. I fell instantly in love with him the first time I saw him. It was really love at first sight, only that he didn't love me. I was dead shy around him. Miguel had coal black hair and eyes, and was one of the most handsome and popular gentlemen in Paris. His voice, oh god, his voice. It was torturous. His voice was like piece of the most expensive and delicious chocolate, dark, secretive and filled with the sweetest, slowly melting crème. It was seducing. Miguel Mantillo was seducing. Had it ever existed an Ares, the handsome Greek war god, it must have been Miguel. He made me want to faint, whenever he turned around and looked me in the eyes, uttering a joke or a laugh, usually at my expense. He hurt me with his hard words, often making me cry once home in the loneliness of my room. But I still loved him. And miraculously, he one day started to show an interest in me. He asked me to dance with him at the annual Christmas ball, not once, but three times. After that, he showed interest in me. Not a day passed when I didn't see him. I should have known then, that nothing good could come from it, but I was blinded with happiness. He cared for me! Me, of all the ladies he could chose from. He took me out on dinners, to the theatre, the opera, everything. I feel ashamed when I think about it. I, the observer, should have known what was going on. I didn't.

Since I had no relatives in Paris, I lived alone, without a proper chaperone. This was not very good for my reputation, but somehow, I managed to keep it rather clean. Miguel destroyed that. Suddenly there were rumours about me and our relationship all over Paris. In the late summer, one of my friends in Paris, Lucille de Clousseu burst into my room, shrieking that I had betrayed her trust and that Miguel was hers! I didn't understand at first, I was so sure that Miguel only was interested in me. One more time a fool. I tried to find out what he had said about me and I was shocked by my discoveries. Apparently, he had found out that my founds were limited and had spread out that I accompanied him as his mistress. Or rather his whore, for that was what everyone said about me. I tried to contact Miguel, but I couldn't find him. When I got home, I saw that someone had broken into my apartment and stolen what money I had left, together with the more expensive part of my wardrobe and my jewellery. With ruined reputation and no money, there was nothing left for me to do but to pack what little I had left and go out to find work somewhere. That leads me to where I am today. But how can an observer survive in a world ruled by doers?

Reviews are lovely.