Before I say anything, let me just say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUITOR! Writing this over the past year has really been such a comfort to me for several reasons. As I've already said, I write to escape, and escape I truly have. Whether or not that bodes well for my coming exams... we'll have to see. Anyway, thank you, dear reader, for making all of this possible. Here's to another year of 1830's romantic drivel! I can only hope it gets better :)

A/N: Well. It's been a good long while, hasn't it. Instead of giving some long-winded explanation, I'll provide you with my excuses in their short form: College, boys, boys, college, college, death, college, money, college, work, boys, boys, college, exams. boys.

RIGHT. So, now that's all over and done with, here I am! Thanks to everyone for such a great response to my oxford failure - you're all lovely lovely people :)

Regarding this chapter, I made it especially long to make up for lost time. I'm not happy with it at all, but I thought I should just, you know... GO FOR IT, as they say. May be a tad confusing, I don't know, but I couldn't stand the sight of it anymore so if you have any burning questions then just let me know, okies? NICE.

Well, enjoy! (And any French readers out there, please excuse any shameful grammatical errors.)


-

-

"Quelle chance! Mon fils est devenu une statue."

Van blinked and looked around at the sound of his mother's lilting French, raising an eyebrow at her playful expression before turning back to stare at the rain pelting on the window.

"Quelle chance." He repeated, mirthlessly, crossing his arms.

Varie sighed from the other side of the room.

"Chéri, you have been like this for days now." She approached him, switching easily from her native tongue into an English accent that was so flawless you'd never have guessed she was an émigré. Her tone mimicked the worry in her bright eyes. "Tell me what's wrong…" She placed a hand on the shoulder of his fine-tailored jacket, adding a soft, "Please?"

Van remained silent for a long moment before exhaling loudly.

"I'm fine." He rewarded her with a brief smile, utterly forced from the depths of his terrible mood. He hated upsetting his mother.

But in reality he was not "fine". In reality, his thoughts were as heavy and dark as the rainclouds that had covered their country estate for the past week. In reality, he had ceased to be "fine" a long time ago. Her eyes disbelieving, Varie touched his cheek.

"Well, try to cheer up before the guests arrive, darling." She said, patting it gently, "You'll never find a wife looking so miserable."

Van bit back a derisive snort and continued to stare out onto the drive as his mother left the room. The carriages would begin arriving in a short while, and in all honesty he could not bear the thought. He didn't think he'd ever dreaded a party quite so much. Dozens of unmarried chits vying for his attentions every which-way, flirting and making shameless suggestions towards him would have otherwise made for an entertaining few days. But it seemed to him already that he would not be so easily entertained this time. Something within him had resigned itself to the fact that women were dull, mindless things who could no better amuse him than a particularly dry slice of cake, and he was quite sure that nothing could change his mind. Nothing and nobody.

Not even one, highly opinionated, governess.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Hitomi? Hitomi dear, are you sure you're quite alright?"

The carriage lurched again, causing both travellers to grasp the plush seating beneath their fingertips with vice-like intensity. Unfortunately, the hasty action did not stop them from pitching forward, yet again, in a violently uncomfortable fashion.

"Quite." The governess bit out when she was seated once more, her complexion turning ever-more green.

"You're sure?" Merle asked, edging away discreetly on the opposite bench.

Knowing not how she managed such an impossible feat, Hitomi forced a smile, her teeth gritting.

No I am not sure. In fact, I am not at all sure why on earth I agreed to come on this ridiculous carriage ride to this ridiculous house party in the middle of this ridiculous rainstorm!

"Quite sure."

Thunder from outside seemed to shake the earth they rode on. Hitomi winced, biting her lip to keep herself from swearing colourfully. They had been travelling for nigh on five hours now, and although their spacious carriage was luxuriously upholstered in velvet (adorned with ridiculous tassels which swung with the coach's sporadic movements), it was absolutely freezing, surprisingly claustrophobic and, most unfortunately for Hitomi, the ride was very, very bumpy. She clutched her stomach as she felt another inevitable wave of nausea. Merle's expression did nothing to conceal her distaste.

"Perhaps… er, perhaps we should stop by the side of the road so you may…" The debutante made an ambiguous gesture with her hands, "er… eject your—"

"I'm perfectly fine, Merle." Hitomi interrupted the girl's babbling, "I simply—"

The coach hit a particularly jarring bump, sending its occupants up into the air for a brief moment. The hand that was on Hitomi's stomach shot to cover her mouth. The familiar, uncomfortable, empty sensation at the back of her throat was warning enough that her lunch was about to come tumbling forth; without invitation.

"Merle, stop the carriage." She hissed out through the gaps between her fingers.

"Wha—"

"I must— …stop the carriage now please." She said, slowly, her eyes closed in an effort to simply try to concentrate her impending sickness away. Bile rose in her throat as her stomach churned.

"But… wait, no— I wasn't— you can't go out there!" Merle, oblivious to how close her chaperone was to ruining her finest dress, protested, "It's raining! You'll get—"

"I-don't-care-now-will-you-please-just-stop-the-coach-and-open-the-door-because-otherwise-I-swear-to-god-I'm-about-to-expel-my-lunch-all-over-you." The words leapt out of Hitomi's mouth as briefly and sharply as she could manage before she closed it again.

"But you'll—"

"Now!"

Horrifed, the debutante rapped on the ceiling and instructed the driver to stop. Hitomi shot out of the door the moment they had come to a halt. Rain beat down on her head, plastering it to her face, and her feet sank into the mud, but she barely noticed. She ran to the road's edge and, in the nick of time, hauled her already sodden skirts out of the way.

Several minutes later, exhausted and, frankly, appalled at the lack control she had over her digestive system, she returned to the carriage; without her lunch. Merle's expression was one of terror as the governess stepped inside, soaked to the skin and white as a sheet.

"Carry on." Hitomi said rather pathetically as she knocked on the ceiling, a sign for the driver to continue their journey. She was launched into her seat as the carriage jostled to a start. Merle swallowed.

"Are you alright?" She asked, idiotically, after a moment.

Hitomi closed her eyes.

"Quite."

Another thunderous boom rumbled in the distance before a streak of lightning cracked the air. She shivered, and wondered how the day could possibly get any worse.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What do you mean "it fell off"?!"

The driver, a rather simple man they had hired (whose personal hygiene left much to be desired), scratched the back of his (probably filthy) neck in sheepish response to the governess' enraged countenance.

"I mean it must of fell off on them bumpy tracks a while back." He shrugged, "Guess I mustn't of tied it on as well I thought I did."

It had stopped raining briefly, though the clouds overhead loomed ever-darker, and presently they had arrived at the magnificent Fanel country estate and were in the process of unloading the coach. Unfortunately, they'd hit a snag. Whereas Merle's bags were in perfect condition (if a little wet) and all accounted for, the one that Hitomi had packed for herself was nowhere to be seen.

"Well what am I supposed to do without clothes for the next three days?!"

The driver just shrugged again. He'd walked away before Hitomi had the good sense to throttle him, leaving her alone to deal with the loss of her only suitcase. Sodden and practically dripping wet as she still was, the thought of having to greet the Viscount, and worse, his mother, in such a state of dress was not a scene she wanted to even consider. She had hoped to change quickly inside the carriage once they'd arrived and had unloaded their suitcases, but unfortunately, fate, not to mention God, seemed intent on making her life a living hell, today of all days. She raised her fingers to her temples, where the tension had built up to an absurdly high degree, and frowned. She looked and felt bedraggled and hideous, her shoes and hem were caked in mud even though she'd tried desperately to scrape it off during the rest of their journey, and her dress was sticking to her in such an uncomfortable fashion that she was tempted to just rip the damned thing off and be done with it. Merle approached her, giving her a once-over before her face creased in laughter.

"Oh, Hitomi!" She giggled, "You do look funny! Rather like a drowned cat!"

Hitomi scowled.

"Thankyou." She bit out, her jaw clenched. Naturally, Merle looked perfect and miraculously unruffled, considering the long journey they'd just been jostled through. Hitomi sighed, gesturing to the entrance. "Shall we get this over with?"

Merle was still chuckling as she nodded her assent and walked ahead.

"Please don't let him greet us, please don't let him greet us…" The governess chanted beneath her breath as she followed close behind her charge. But even distracted as she was, walking up the gravelled drive, she couldn't help but take in the sheer magnificence of the place. The front side of the manor alone was incredible, its enormous face covered with tangles of ivy and flowers she could not name. The grounds (what she could see of them anyway) were vast and richly textured with trees and yet more flowers and, from what she'd heard, there was even a lake somewhere. She wondered how long ago the estate had been built, and expected the inside to be just as stunning as the out, if not more so. It was at this point she also wondered whether she would even be allowed to see it in her current, sorry state.

They stopped in front of the ominously large oak panelled doors, and Hitomi steeled herself for the torture that was about to ensue, within the next few minutes as well as over the entirety of the next three days. She hadn't seen the Viscount for almost a fortnight, not since she had… expressed herself to him in the library of a London townhouse.

"Go."

The memory of the subdued, menacing order still rang inside her head, still made her wince as she had done when he'd uttered the word. Even if she had absolutely meant everything she had accused him of, she realised shortly after the incident that she had perhaps spoken a little too freely with him. She had worked herself up into a frenzy over his façade of insolence and the blithe attitude he exhibited towards women and life and… her, and her tongue had simply not been able to remain still. Before she could stop herself she had said everything, everything she'd been thinking since she'd met him. She'd listed his resounding flaws in those few short minutes, and had shocked herself in doing so. But in all honesty, the most striking thing about the whole experience had been his reaction; he appeared to have taken her words seriously, for what they were, for what they truly meant. He had actually listened to her - really listened. For the first time. The result had been fairly… startling. Upon further reflection the following day, she thought she may have even felt a twinge of remorse somewhere in the pit of her stomach; however, she had soon dismissed it for hunger and had simply eaten a biscuit instead. Two more cups of tea and three more biscuits later, and the twinge had still remained. In fact, it remained to this day.

But apologise, she would not. Never. And she doubted he would either so… that was that. They would stay out of each other's way for the next three days (not to mention the following months and years) and hope that one day they may come to forget what had occurred between them. It was all they could do. It was all she could do.

Unfortunately, fate - wonderful fate - had other plans.

It always did.

The doors opened before Merle could even raise her hand to knock, and Hitomi could not stop the ungraceful drop of her jaw as the footmen stood back to reveal the entrance hall. It was magnificent. Magnificent and huge. Enormous. Portraits of various ancestors and heroes practically covered the vast walls, dreamy landscapes orderly dotted in between their sombre glances. But it was the grand staircase, with banisters of beautiful mahogany that shone with freshly polished splendour, which were by far the most breathtaking sight to behold, even in the gloomy light filtering through the windows high above them. Splitting on the central landing to the two separate wings of the mansion, the stairway was obviously the crowning glory of the entrance hall. It was all just so… overwhelming, and they hadn't even walked in yet.

"I see that the best has truly been saved for last."

His voice echoed through the space, bouncing off the walls and through Hitomi's brain with aggravating clarity. Her eyes darted to his figure at the foot of the staircase, her heart suddenly jerking painfully, awkwardly within her chest. She blinked and turned her gaze to the marble floor as he approached, hating herself for the heat that flashed through her veins. Merle began to giggle and walked to him, grinning with girlish charm.

"Oh, how splendid this is, my lord!" She gushed, childishly, "How delightfully splendid!"

The Viscount smiled and took hold of one of her outstretched hands before bending to kiss it lightly. Hitomi's eyes strayed to the gesture from where she stood (still between the two doormen) and attempted to block the memory of those same lips skimming over her hand. And over her—

"More guests!"

Lady Fanel's melodious voice practically sang through the vastness of the entrance hall. Hitomi let out a string of mental curses, glancing down at the dreadful state of her attire again before wishing she could crawl into a large, dark, bottomless hole and stay there for eternity. However, due to the unavailability of such a diverging option, she chose instead to count silently to ten, and hope that nobody would notice her. It usually worked without any effort on her part.

One, two—

"Oh, mon dieu!"

Dammit.

Hitomi swore inwardly and looked up, straight into the eyes of a very perplexed Varie Fanel. She had to blink several times before she actually believed that the woman was in fact Van's mother. Indeed, she had known well of the Countess' beauty and elegance before now, and yet none of the descriptions she'd overheard seemed to do the real article justice. The woman just looked so young, with expertly curled ebony locks that beheld no white or greying traces, with skin that seemed to radiate the very youth and vitality Hitomi could feel no longer. It was a strange and wonderful thing, to behold the defiance of time in such a way. Giving herself a mental shake, the governess attempted to curtsy, grabbing handfuls of her sodden skirts and smiling pathetically.

"Uh… good afternoon." She said hastily, tucking her now ratty hair behind her rapidly reddening ears, "Please excuse my… my appearance, my Lady, you see I—"

"You poor dear!" The Countess exclaimed, rushing forward past Merle, who seemed at a loss as to why she was being so 'rudely' ignored, "What on Earth—
What happened?!"

"Well I—"

"Oh, heavens," She talked over Hitomi's garbled explanation (probably a good thing, since the subject matter was hardly delicate), "You'll catch your death! We must get you out of those ruined clothes at once!" A maid seemed to magically appear beside them in an instant.

"Where is your valise, my dear?" She peered over the governess's shoulder and through the open door, to where the carriage remained outside with the bags. Hitomi swallowed as her heart sank further, the awfulness of the situation making her stomach churn. Again.

"I'm afraid I no longer have one, my Lady." She paused for a moment as the Countess' eyes snapped back to hers, blinking steadily. "It… it seems to have fallen from the carriage in the storm."

The Countess frowned slightly before regarding the sopping mess standing in front of her.

"Well…" She appeared to think for a moment, "Well… this will not do at all."

Hitomi fought the urge to cringe with embarrassment and shame.

"I am truly sorry, my Lady, I can—"

"I won't hear of it!" She exclaimed with a flourish, "We cannot have a guest running about all day in rags!"

Hitomi looked down at the floor, wishing she could melt into it.

"You will borrow my clothes!"

Her head snapped up.

"Beg Pardon?!"

But the Countess was already muttering something in rapid French to the maid beside them, smiling for reasons Hitomi could not begin to decipher. Rather shocked (to say the least), the governess looked to Merle, who still stood several feet away with the Viscount, and was rather amused to see the girl's mouth hanging agape, rather akin to the primates in London Zoo. The Countess was generally described to be a fairly eccentric and caring woman, but Hitomi had never before heard of such clearly manic generosity. She stuttered over etiquette.

"But, my Lady, I-I couldn't possibly—"

Varie turned to her, her smile replaced with an expression that could only be described as maternal.

"And what else do you suggest, my dear? Hm? That I let you catch a fever?"

Hitomi shook her head wildly, "N-No, but—"

"Well then it is settled, is it not?" She smiled again, a bright, radiant smile that must have captured the hearts of every young man in Paris (and London no doubt), once upon a time. "Are we not the same height?" She brought a hand up to the top of Hitomi's head before sliding it through the air to touch her own. She nodded, obviously decided upon their seemingly 'identical' measurements.

"You will borrow my clothes. Alors, Annette?"

The maid beside them curtsied to Hitomi before listening intently to the orders she was about to receive.

"Trouvez mes vêtements anciennes, Annette. Tu sais… euh… les robes que j'ai portées à Paris quand j'étais plus jeune… et moins grosse. Mais seulement les plus belles, d'accord ?"

"Oui, Madame." She curtsied again.

"Bien." The Countess clapped her hands together, turning back to Hitomi. "Now, take Miss…?" She looked expectantly at the governess.

"Oh!" Hitomi blinked, mortified at the realisation that she hadn't actually introduced herself, "Kanzaki. Hitomi Kanzaki."

"How wonderfully exotic!" Varie exclaimed, beaming, before turning back to Annette, "Take Miss Kanzaki to her room, please, and show her where everything is."

The maid bobbed a curtsy towards Lady Fanel before nodding to Hitomi, who duly followed her, smiling her thanks to the Countess. She walked past Merle, whose jaw still hung open, and could do nothing but shrug her own confusion. Then, quite accidentally, her eyes darted to the Viscount, who hadn't said a word to her in all this, only to find he was looking elsewhere, purposefully acting as if she did not exist. Well, it suited her, she told herself. She just hoped he would continue to do so for the remainder of her time there… and ignored the whisper in her heart that wished he would smile at her again.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"All I'm saying is that it is frightfully unfair, Hitomi, and frightfully improper for you to be wearing the Countess' clothing." Merle berated as they descended the grand staircase together, sometime later, on their way to a dining room that was undoubtedly going to be the size of a small castle.

"I didn't ask to wear her clothing." Hitomi defended, quietly. In all honesty though, she agreed with Merle wholeheartedly. It was bizarre, surreal and… slightly ridiculous that the Countess had even offered. Governesses did not share clothing with Countesses. You did not need to be a genius to know such a thing. Merle gave her dress a haughty once-over.

"Green is not your colour." She said with a scowl. Hitomi brushed the insult away with a grim smile. She had thought, as she'd regarded her reflection in the privacy of her own guest-room earlier, that the dress was beautiful in an understated sort of way. It did cling to her rather tightly, and the neckline was rather too low for her comfort, but the silk of the fabric was glorious against her skin, and she had thought the shade of green a perfect match for her eyes. But… perhaps she had been wrong after all. Merle had always had a keen eye for style. She knew a fashion faux pas when she saw one.

They walked in silence until they came to the foyer, where the crowd of guests had gathered. Hitomi was slightly surprised to only see about twenty other visitors, rather than the "hundred or so" that the Viscount had anticipated. She guessed the poor weather must have had something to do with it, since the storm was raging outside once more, as relentless as the voice in her head screaming at her to go home. As they neared the others, she began to spot faces she recognised in the crowd. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Millerna Aston, surrounded by practically all of the available gentlemen in the room, a woman she knew to be shallow and calculating, but stunningly beautiful and elegant as if to balance out such hideous attributes. Her blonde hair shone in the candlelight, masterfully arranged in an intricate mass upon her head. She giggled at something, her eyes cold and unamused.

Merle soon released her arm as they approached the small group, obviously not wishing to be seen with such an unfashionable companion. And so Hitomi was left to drift and wander and sit alone once again, as she did every party, every dinner. Every day. Generally, the tradition at such events was for everybody to wait in the foyer until the hostess or host entered; at this point, the highest ranking man in the room would escort the highest ranking lady to dinner, and others would follow suit. Such was the etiquette of the upper-classes. Unfortunately, this meant that there were an indiscernible number of minutes until the Countess' arrival, and thus Hitomi grew uneasy at the thought she would have to bear this torture for more than a quarter of an hour.

She stood with her hands loosely clasped in front of her near the foot of the staircase, looking awkward and rather lost, and was just about to edge her way to a shadowed corner when her eyes caught sight of somebody else she recognised. Charles, or Chid Aston as he was better known, was standing not ten feet away and seemed to be… well, staring straight at her. She blinked a few times, looking behind her to ensure it was in fact she he was studying so intently, before turning back in his direction. She blinked again when she realised he had disappeared.

"I don't believe we've been introduced."

The governess fought the urge to scream in surprise. Her body jolted quite noticeably as a voice she did not recognise uttered the words somewhere near her right ear. She turned to see Lord Aston there, his mouth curving boyishly at her reaction.

"I did not intend to give you a heart attack, my good Lady, but I simply could not stop myself from coming over here to talk to you." He took her gloved hand gently with his own, bringing it to his lips. "You are quite the most beautiful woman in the room." Hitomi stared, wide-eyed, blushing furiously as he placed his cool lips upon the silk.

"You're… Lord Aston." She stated quietly, still rather confused as to what had just happened. Chid smiled.

"Call me Charles."

At that moment, the doors on the other side of the hall opened with the expert flourish of two nearby footmen. The Countess entered, a vision of beauty in an expertly tailored gown of white silk. She smiled at her visitors.

"Friends: let not the damp weather dampen our spirits this fine evening." She gestured to a door on the other side of the foyer, "Let us eat!"

There was a murmur of appreciation from the crowd as Varie approached a man Hitomi did not recognise, taking the arm he proffered before walking towards the dining room. The elusive Viscount Fanel was nowhere to be seen. Not that she cared, of course. Suddenly realising that her new friend would most probably be expected to accompany a high ranking lady to the table, Hitomi looked to Chid, catching him staring at her again. She swallowed, feeling very uncomfortable.

"I… Shouldn't you be finding a lady to escort?"

Chid offered her his arm. "I think I've already found one." He said quietly, his blue eyes glinting in the candlelight.

She reddened again, regarding his arm as if it might gnaw her hand off. She could not possibly be seen to be so familiar with Charles Aston; the gossip would be inescapable. She would not do such a thing to Merle. What is more, she could hardly associate with the closest friend of the man she despised.

"Would you… Would you excuse me? I appear to have lost my appetite."

She moved away from him hastily, not waiting for a response, picking up her skirts as she turned her back to the crowd. Without looking back, she walked briskly down one of the hallways that led away from the foyer, looking for a room to sit in quietly as she waited for Merle. After five minutes of meandering further and further away from the dining room, she walked past an open doorway, inside of which she spotted a pianoforte. A perfect way to pass the time. Halting outside of it, she poked her head round the doorframe. A fire blazed in the hearth on the other side of the room, a large, wingback chair facing towards it, away from her. She hoped it was empty.

"Uh…H-Hello?"

No movement or sound.

Perfect.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Van stared into the fire, swirling the brandy round and round his glass uninterestedly. He'd drunk far too much of it to make an appearance at dinner. His hair was mussed and his coat lay discarded on the mantelpiece. Only the familiar beat of the rain on the windows accompanied the sharp crackling of the flames and the relentless direction of his thoughts. He sighed.

Why had she come here? Couldn't she have sent someone else with Miss Rogers? Surely something could have been arranged. Anything. Anything that would have meant avoiding seeing him again. Didn't she think him a cad? Incapable of love? A mindless, selfish coward?

The word reverberated through his mind, damning him. Damning him as he had damned himself for years.

Never mind though, he convinced himself, numbly. He hadn't acknowledged her since her arrival that afternoon and had absolutely no intention of doing so in the near future, unless it was utterly necessary. The plain fact was: he had nothing to say to her. He wanted nothing to do with the stubborn chit, even if it meant his plan to avoid matrimony was foiled beyond repair. She was far too obstinate and opinionated. Far too dangerous to toy with. It did not matter that he had enjoyed their innocent tryst more than he was willing to admit. It did not matter that part of him still wanted to seduce her, just to see her submit to him, just to feel her fall apart in his arms. To watch her surrender to the man she so openly despised with all her being.

He banished the misleading thoughts with another swig of brandy.

"Uh… H-Hello?"

At the light, hesitant voice, the glass in Van's hand froze in mid-air, half way to lips that had just parted in surprise. He remained still, silent. Straight away, he knew it was her; His failed conquest.

God, how he hated failure.

Before he had thought of a suitably half-hearted reaction, he heard her enter the room and close the door, obviously convinced of its vacancy. He listened as her quiet, timid footsteps immediately approached where the pianoforte lay open, several yards behind him. She seemed to stop before it, soundless. Without provocation, Van imagined her fingers to be running over the wood softly, feeling the unique rivers of grain which lined the instrument's casing. He quelled the strangely enthralling image by staring harshly into the fire. The stool creaked behind him. Several, lonely notes were drawn into the air as the governess tested the weight of the keys beneath her fingers. Van suppressed the urge to sigh. He should probably have signalled his presence long before now. What was stopping him, he honestly didn't know. Perhaps the memory of how they had last parted was inducing him to let her be. He had been so lost in that moment. So filled with frustrated despair as his past had been dragged unceremoniously before him in her angry, disturbing words. All he had been capable of doing at the time was telling her to leave in one, swift syllable.

Before he could dwell on the matter more, the opening of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata reached his ears, soft and slow and far too tender and mournful for his current mood. But he stayed still. He listened as the notes rose and fell with crescendos and sombre diminuendos of poignant eloquence. She slowed here and there, a bit too often for his liking, and when it came to the first loud set of bars, she played them far too timidly. He felt a sudden urge to alert her of such sloppiness, but promptly remembered his secret position, as well as his unwillingness to speak to her again. He tolerated her playing, which was not at all bad, if a little cautious (one cannot afford to be cautious when it comes to Beethoven), as he continued to stare into the flames licking at the hearth. Without thinking, he expelled a heavy breath.

The playing stopped immediately, and the stool scraped upon the wooden flooring as it was pushed back, its occupant obviously standing up in haste. Van suppressed the urge to curse. What hearing the woman had! She must have surely been a vampire bat in another lifetime. Perhaps if she hadn't been playing so damned quietly she might not have—

"Wh-Who's there?" Her voice shook with no small amount of fear.

Well, this certainly was not how he had envisaged the evening to evolve. Van placed his brandy glass down on the table beside him tiredly before rising to his feet without much haste. He was impressively steady on them as he turned round, feeling a rush of inebriated heat flow through his veins. In a fairly perverse manner, he relished the stunned look of dread that claimed her features in the firelight as she saw him, darkly amused by his affect on her. God, he could taste the hate wafting through the room, it was so heavy, so tangible.

"Good evening, my Lady. Have we met?" His voice, dripping with disdain, was artificially light.

Hitomi's eyes, which had widened originally upon recognising her silent audience member, narrowed at his facetious tone.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

It was a lie. He never came to this house anymore.

The governess let out a noise of exasperation at his childishness. "Yes, I am aware of that. I meant to enquire as to why you were not dining with your guests."

Van shrugged, placing his hands in the pockets of his trousers and walking around the chair to face her. His gaze held hers for a moment before he let his eyes wander. He blinked past the fuzziness in his brain when he realised she was not wearing the rags he had seen her drenched in earlier. No indeed, she looked… lovely. Either that or he had drunk far more than he'd formerly thought. From what he could roughly decipher, the dress she wore was not in any current style, and certainly not a recent one at that, and yet it seemed a timeless design that clung and draped in every perfect place on her body. The colour seemed to make her sharp eyes bright, even in the darkness of the room. Seeing the manner in which he was studying her, Hitomi dragged her gaze to the floorboards. Van laughed, mirthlessly, ignoring the wave of attraction that pulsed through him.

"What a pity we've stumbled upon each other, Miss Kanzaki." He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the chair's spine. "I'm sure you'll agree with me when I admit I was hoping to avoid talking to you at all for the next three days."

The governess looked up, frowning slightly at the thinly veiled insult before crossing her arms to mimic his. "Why don't you leave then?" She asked plainly.

It was strange, Van thought, that they were acting as if nothing extraordinary had happened between them. He had expected her to be… slightly more timid with him, even scared of how he would act. Moreover, he had expected himself to be far more angry and cutting with her after her previous behaviour. He supposed it was merely in his nature to welcome ridicule instead of resentment. What was the point though, he wondered. What use was being civil with one another when the very air in the room stank with the odourless frigidity of hatred. He took several wavering steps towards the piano, next to which she stood. Hitomi blinked at him as he neared her.

"You're drunk." She stated flatly, to nobody in particular.

Van regarded her for a moment before chuckling, the deep sound filled with no real amusement.

"You say it like you are not surprised, Miss Kanzaki."

"That is because I am not surprised in the slightest."

Her hostility fuelled his need to hurt her in some cruel verbal form, but he found his mind too clogged, too heavy to form the acerbic, spiteful words on which he had existed for almost half a decade.

"Oh yes," He stated, lightly, "Of course. You know me so well, I had momentarily forgotten."

He watched her feign bewilderment, even after he had seen the flash of comprehension in her eyes. The dormant rage inside him uncoiled for reasons he refused to name.

"I… don't understand what you—"

"Oh, but you do understand." He said harshly, drunk and aggravated and utterly at a loss as to what he wanted from this woman. He closed the space between them, grabbing onto her upper arms when she tried to back away. He relished the terror that she tried to school unsuccessfully from her features.

"You understand me perfectly, remember? You've got me all worked out. All worked out like your calculated little life." He resisted the urge to shake her.

"Get off me—"

"Oh, but I can't. I'm selfish like that, selfish and arrogant and, what was the other one? Oh yes, untrustworthy."

She brought her hands up to where his arms gripped her hard, attempting to pry him off her.

"Unhand—"

"Just admit that you hate me!" He practically shouted, desperate suddenly to hear the words from her, "Admit that you think I am past help, past anything that could possibly make me human again – Admit it!"

"What are—… You are drunk, sir, I—"

"And don't 'Sir' me – Christ! Don't we know each other well enough by now? Would you not say that we've insulted and aggravated and aroused each other enough over the past months to for-go titles?!"

When her cheeks coloured slightly at his question, he was suddenly overcome by the urge to kiss her again. The inexplicable feeling only served to heighten his frustration. He tightened his grip on her, breathing heavily. She winced.

"Please…" She begged quietly, "Please, Van."

The long-awaited sound of his name on her lips seemed to cause something inside of him to break. He looked at her, silently beseeching, his breathing unsteady, for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes were glistening, and she was shaking slightly. Her lips parted, drawing in an unsteady, ragged breath. He let his gaze drop to them, his grip on her arms relaxing slightly, his hands drawing down the length of them to her elbows, slowly, slowly. He could hear their breathing, exaggerated in the silence of the room, feel the air they shared. He felt her shiver and his eyelids dropped to half-mast. A forgotten warmth that had nothing to do with alcohol coiled through his gut. He drew closer to her.

"Van…" She whispered as they were brought together, her voice tinged with a desperation he could not interpret.

He kissed her. He couldn't stop himself. He kissed her because he was tired of trying not to, because he was angry and confused. He told himself he did not want her, but in truth he had wanted her since the moment he'd first touched her, all those weeks ago in the garden of some dandy's townhouse on the night of his twenty-eighth birthday. She had been so innocent, so untutored, so different to every other woman he'd held that he'd found himself drawn to her, again and again. He wished she would push him away.

But she did not, in fact, even attempt to push him away, though her lips remained still beneath his, locked together, wilfully refusing him. He pulled back slightly to find her eyes closed, anguish shaping her brows into expressive arches.

"Hitomi." He breathed, not knowing why he needed her to look at him, to respond to him. He was drunk, he knew that much, but he also knew that he wanted her to do something, scream at him, hit him, kiss him back. Anything. Because when he was with her, he almost felt alive again. For the first time in five years, he almost felt like a human being. Hitomi opened her eyes. They were dark and shimmering.

"You don't want this." She said with the barest shake of her head, the words close to inaudible.

Honestly, Van didn't know what he wanted anymore. He had ceased to know five years ago, when he had watched his brother die. But what he wanted and what his body was demanding were two very different things, and god be damned if he was to be denied both.

He kissed her again, and this time it was punishing, hard and unrelenting, an attack on her senses. She made a noise of distress at his ministrations, but he just held her closer, firmer. And just when he was about to scream at her to respond… she did. Her mouth moved, opening under his, tentative but alive. His own body jerked slightly in shock, and he softened his arduous assault almost unintentionally. When he tried to force the harshness back into the caress, he found he could not. Instead his hands sank to her waist, running to the small of her back as she made maddening little noises against his lips. She arched into him as he brought her closer still.

This is wrong. This is wrong.

And yet her body felt so perfect against his that he could not deny himself.

Her hands gradually settled on the shirt at his waist, light and unsure. The slight touch sent him reeling. An image flashed into his head of just lying her down on the floor and taking her right there, in the middle of the music room. His blood heated to an unbearable degree. He took her mouth again and again and again, mindless, possessed. He could feel the heat of her through the thin layer of silk that covered her skin, how the fabric bunched and wrinkled under the onslaught of his roaming fingertips. He said her name between kisses, relishing the way she sought his lips after every intake of breath. His—

A few yards away, the door opened without warning.

It took Van every inch of his willpower to tear his mouth away from her probing one, but he managed to, and turned towards the door almost at once. It then took a moment for his brain to process that he had to release the warm body held so sweetly against his in order to do so. Hitomi stifled a scream and struggled to get away, scrabbling from him and hiding her face from the intruder.

Van blinked blearily at Chid, who stood, unimpressed, in the open doorway.

"I was just coming to check on Miss Kanzaki." The blonde lord stated, his voice low and insipid with disparagement.

"She's fine." Van said shortly, glancing to Hitomi, who was reddening apace.

"Yes, well, your sobriety fills me with conviction." He stepped into the room, "Miss Kanzaki, would you like me to escort you to the parlour? I believe there is to be a game of cards after dinner if you would care to—"

"No, thank you, I think I will go to bed." The governess turned and walked so briskly from the room that it was a wonder she hadn't put the fire out with the burst of empty air that blew past the two gentlemen. After a moment, Van sighed and put his hands back in his pockets, his pulse slowing, looking at the door she had gone through as his friend closed it.

"I—"

"You really are the worst kind of man, aren't you." Chid interrupted, coldly, turning back to face him. It was not a question. Van looked at him, the darkness of the room making it difficult to see his expression.

"I'm drunk, Chid. Go away." He looked towards the fire.

"Do you have any idea how spineless you are?!"

"Aston—"

"After you told me you had finished toying with her, that she was nothing to you, you go and ruin her just because you are bitter at being beaten!" Chid made a sound of disgust, "I never thought I'd see you sink this low, Fanel."

Van whirled to him, shouting his frustration, "This doesn't concern you! And when did you get so protective of her?! Or of any woman for that matter?!"

Chid approached him, his eyes a vivid blue in the gloom. "She's done nothing to deserve this, Fanel. Nothing."

Van's eyes widened, his lips curling into an unattractive, mocking smile.

"Fancy her, do you?" He said, quietly. Chid glared at him.

"How mature of you."

"Oh no, no. I say we get to the heart of this now, don't you? I say, we put our cards on the table, so to speak." Van closed the distance between them, almost tripping over the carpet as he did so.

"You're embarrassing yourself."

Van gestured to the door behind them. "If you want her, you're welcome to her, Aston." He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and patted it a few times, "But I think you'll have a hard time of it trying to explain to your father why a mere chaperone is fit for the role of a Duchess."

Chid stared at him, hard. It was at these moments Van wondered whether they were really friends, or simply men who found comfort in the other's hopelessness. Time stretched, silence with it. Chid moved away from him wordlessly.

"Go to bed." He said as he turned to the door.

"Go to hell." Was the reply he got from the brooding viscount.

Chid smiled.

"I'll see you there."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hitomi slept awfully. In fact, she could not remember a night where she had tossed and turned and winced at her own thoughts quite as much as she had done the night before. As she walked into the breakfast room, she was aware that she must look a fright. She hoped nobody she knew was in there, and that she could just eat and run out again as quickly as was humanly possible. Fortunately, there was only one other person already sitting down. Unfortunately, it was Charles Aston. He stood up as she entered, bowing his head to her in greeting. She nodded back, reddening, before walking rapidly to the side board, where all the breakfast dishes lay steaming hot. She loaded her plate with eggs, bacon and toast, even though she had lost her appetite completely. Finding the resolve from some unknown place inside her, she turned and approached the table, seating herself as far away from Charles as she could without it looking deliberate. She stole a glance at him as she folded a napkin across her lap. His face was obscured by the front page of The Times.

Well, at least he wouldn't attempt con—

"I won't tell anyone, you know. I'm not that petty."

He brought the double page down enough to glance at her over the top of it. Hitomi cleared her throat, looking resolutely at the spotless tablecloth instead of at his probing eyes.

"Thank you, but… If you're referring to… to what you saw last night then… well, I'd rather we all forgot about it entirely." She straightened her back, "It was a mistake. A… huge mistake that will not be repeated." She nodded, convinced, before returning his gaze.

His eyes doubted her silently. She wondered how he accomplished such a thing without speech or any other expression.

"Indeed." He acquiesced lightly, before obscuring his face with the newspaper once again. As she began to dissect a slice of bacon on her plate, she realised she was anxious to know what he thought of her. It would not do to have him lose all respect for her already, just because he had seen her in the arms of a fairly inebriated noted rogue who just happened to be his best friend. Gosh, it did sound bad when she said it to herself.

But, heavens, what a fool she had been. What an enormous, stupid fool of a woman she had been. Letting him kiss her like that. And kissing him back! What had she done!? He was the devil incarnate. The way he had talked to her and held her and… She hated the man. She should have told him so when he'd asked her to admit it. God, how she hated him. Hated him!

"You appear to be trying to saw your way through the fine china, Miss Kanzaki. May I ask why?"

Chid's voice pierced her thoughts of loathing. She turned her head to him innocently, laying the offending cutlery down gently on the tablecloth.

"My mind is elsewhere, it seems." She tried to smile but feared the action looked artificial. "I… did not sleep well last night."

"I'm not surprised after you were attacked in such a way." The blonde lord snorted, turning to the next page of the newspaper. Hitomi frowned slightly.

"Attacked?"

"Never mind."

At that moment Merle entered, looking fresh and clean and far less tired than her chaperone.

"Good morning, my Lord!" She curtsied cheerily before Chid had even had the chance to stand up.

"Hitomi!" She approached the governess, her expression souring in an instant, "You left me all alone at dinner last night – not that I was complaining of course – but there was nobody to hold my reticule in the parlour afterwards." She appeared to be distinctly annoyed by this fact. "Where on earth did you go to?"

Hitomi blinked several times.

"Sorry, I went to bed, Merle." She said as offhandedly as she could. Technically it was the truth… sort of. "I had the most awful migraine." She glanced at Chid, whose eyes regarded her mutely over the top of his paper.

"Oh." Some of Merle's irritation seemed to seep out of her. "Well, you could have at least told me."

"That was my fault I'm afraid." Chid cut in without warning, finally laying his newspaper down over his empty plate. He seemed to only be drinking coffee for breakfast. "I recommended to Miss Kanzaki that she retire at once, hoping to tell the others at the dinner table. But as you are aware, I myself took ill last night and did not have the chance. You have my apologies." He bowed his head to her slightly.

Merle seemed entranced by his confession. She looked at him as though he had just recited a sonnet to her, blushing sweetly. Hitomi nodded her thanks to him subtly.

"That is quite alright, my Lord." The debutante gushed, "I can only hope you feel healthy this morning?"

"Quite healthy, thank you."

She did not enquire after Hitomi's wellbeing, choosing instead to sit down opposite Chid, who concealed his reluctance to remain there amazingly well.

"I hear that there is to be a ride later." Merle smiled brightly at the lord opposite her, obviously desperate to win his affections now that he had apparently declared his love.

"Really? I hear that there is to be a storm." He offered, slightly bored at the mindless chit-chat.

"Then we'll just have to ride in the rain, won't we."

The familiar voice came from the doorway. Hitomi did not need to turn to see who it was. Merle stood up at once, even though it was rather improper for her to do so.

"My Lord!" She curtsied clumsily, "Good morning; I trust you slept well?"

Van entered the room, a cup of steaming something already in his hand.

"Terribly, thanks." He replied.

"Er… terribly well or just terribly?"

Hitomi turned when Merle asked the superfluous question, just in time to see him put his steaming cup on the sideboard and smile lopsidedly at the debutante.

"Just terribly." His eyes moved from Merle's to catch her own. She looked away immediately, trying not to appear awkward or blush. She supposed she must be failing, because a moment later Merle asked:

"My goodness, Hitomi, you look dreadfully flushed. Are you alright?"

Hitomi swore inwardly. Damn her inability to do anything with subtlety!

"I… think I need to take some air briefly." She stood up hastily, "Do excuse me."

Chid stood from the table as she tried to leave. "Let me accompany you to the terrace, Miss Kanzaki."

"Oh, no thank you, I'll just—"

"Don't worry, Aston, I'll take her."

She looked up at the Viscount, who was already offering his arm to her. He raised a sardonic brow, daring her to take it. When she quickly glanced back at Chid, his expression was convincingly impassive. Merle was staring wide-eyed at the exchange. Hitomi swallowed, her eyes locking once more with those of the ebony-haired rake in front of her.

"That is quite alright, my Lord." She tried again, "I'm perfectly—"

"I insist."

And that was that. She couldn't refuse him now; not in front of Merle. The debutante would begin to suspect something. Well, perhaps not, she was hardly the sharpest pencil in the box – but it was hardly wise to risk such a thing. God, how she hated him.

She took the arm Van had proffered, ignoring the awkwardness of touching him after their encounter last night and, refusing to look at his face, left the room with him at her side. When they had advanced a few metres out of the doorway, he turned her right, towards the back of the house.

"What are you doing?" She whispered harshly, trying to extricate herself from him. He wouldn't let her.

"I'm taking you out to the garden for some… fresh air, was it?" He said calmly, his mouth showing the ghost of a smile as he glanced at her. She turned and glared at him as they continued to walk.

"What do you want? Why didn't you let Lord Aston take me?"

He was silent for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you."

Hitomi looked at the walls they were passing, to the paintings that watched their exchange with silent, judging eyes.

"I think we've said all that there possibly is to say." She muttered, quietly. They had entered a very bright room full of windows, and walked towards a set of glass doors. When they reached them, Hitomi saw that a gravel path lay just on the other side, obviously leading to one of the gardens. Van didn't answer her, instead opening the door and gesturing for her to walk through it. She looked at him sceptically for a moment before conceding. The breeze felt wonderful on her skin as the stone crunched beneath her shoes. Even if the sky was cloudy, at least it had stopped raining.

She suddenly wished she was alone. She wished she didn't feel so self-conscious with him, wished she could stop re-living what she had done with him the night before and on seemingly countless other occasions. She felt so embarrassed at her own lack of restraint. He closed the door behind them, not attempting to take her arm again as they continued down the path. When they had reached the beautiful expanse of a well-kept rose garden, at length, he began.

"I… wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night."

She was so shocked that she had to stop walking.

"What?"

He came to a halt a few steps in front of her when he realised she'd stopped. When he turned to her, his hair looked wild, untamed in the wind, and his face was as serious as she had ever seen it. His eyes were dark and intense.

"I'm sorry." He said. From what she could tell, he wasn't joking. "I was drunk and angry and I didn't mean to frighten you. I—"

"Frighten me—?"

"—I was just thinking about… everything and… I was worked up. You caught me at the worst possible moment."

Their gazes held, his unreadable and hers disbelieving.

"You're… apologising to me?" She asked, doubtfully.

He nodded curtly.

"You're apologising to me?"

"Yes I think we've gathered that."

Hitomi frowned at his sarcasm, though she still couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She carried on walking until she was level with where he stood, next to a bush of white roses which was just beginning to flower and bloom.

"But… why?"

She genuinely did not understand. This was the man she despised, who had tricked her and played with her mind, treated her as if she was inferior and insulted her every turn he got. And this same man was apologising to her? There must be an ulterior motive. She simply would not believe he'd experienced a change of character overnight. Van shrugged, his hands rising in a gesture betraying his own confusion.

"I just realised what an ass I'd been." He said simply, "That kiss last night was a mistake, and it was my fault."

At his mention of the kiss they had shared, Hitomi's blood heated uncomfortably, her stomach doing a sort of somersault that left her mind in disarray. And then something suddenly came to her. She blinked at him, tucking some loose hairs behind her ears.

"Well… what about all the other kisses?" She asked, regretting the question the second she'd raised it. She damned her own curiosity. Van looked at her for a moment, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"Naturally this… includes those." He ended up saying, running a hand through his hair, only for the wind to claim it and ruffle it further. Their eyes remained on one another's. Something indecipherable seemed to pass between them. Hitomi didn't like it. It made her feel weak, both physically and mentally. She knew he was remembering everything that had happened over the short space of time they had known each other. Two months was nothing really, and yet to her it seemed they had been at each others' throats for a lifetime.

He's arrogant, she told herself. He's arrogant and calculating and no-good. And yet she found herself believing every word he said. Or at least, she found herself wanting to believe every word. Van cleared his throat.

"So…" He looked away from her, out towards the hills and lush forest that lay peacefully beyond the gardens. "Do you accept?"

Hitomi blinked, bewildered due to the direction of her own thoughts.

"Accept what?"

Van looked back to her, raising his brows slightly in what she could only imagine was impatience.

"My apology, sweet."

She ignored the endearment, along with the rush of foreboding that came along with it. He had been honest with her. He had actually been self-deprecating, something she would never have expected from any member of the aristocracy. Really, she didn't have a choice in the matter. Her conscience had decided for her.

"I …" She blushed, trying not to think about other uses for the words she was about to say.

"I do."

Van smiled slightly. "Good."

She smiled back. She didn't think they had ever been so civil. But then he said something that made her stomach drop.

"I also… have a favour to ask you."

Hitomi's smile fell, replaced immediately by an apprehensive purse of her lips. Van obviously didn't sense her feelings of foreboding, for he continued, in a lightened tone:

"I want your permission to court Merle Rogers."

Immediately, everything he had said to her, asked of her in the last ten minutes fell into place. And every evil trait of his that she had tried to deny came back doubly as conniving and course. She scowled at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, since we've come to an understanding, and her parents are out of the country, you're the only one I can—"

"How dare you…"

He looked at her quizzically, as if she had gone out of her mind. She must be mad to have even considered his premeditated, forged apology.

"How dare I what?"

"You think that just because you pretend to apologise for all the ridiculousness you've forced on me, I will suddenly think you the next messiah and give you my blessing?!" She was shaking her head with incredulity, gesturing wildly with her hands. "After everything you've done!"

"Who said I was pretending?"

"Oh, pull the other one."

Van relinquished his façade of virtue in an instant, shrugging slightly. "Well at least I tried. You would never have agreed if I hadn't even tried."

"I would never have agreed! Full stop!" She brought her hands together in a clap as a gesture of finality. "You are the last person on Earth I would let anywhere near her!"

"Strange," He countered, "Seeing as you brought her to my bloody house party."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Oh yes, very smart. And what was I supposed to do? Tell her about everything so she would dismiss me out onto the street and be free for your practiced seduction?!"

"Well it wouldn't have been a bad start."

"Eugh! Stop it!! For Christ's sake grow up!"

She whirled and stomped back towards the house.

"Yes, and sulking away from me is of course very mature." He shouted after her, over the wind. She stopped, breathing heavily, turned and then stomped back towards him again. He watched her as she approached, a look of mirthless amusement on his face. She walked right up to him, encroaching on his personal space and disregarding every inch of her own.

"Yesterday you asked me to say that I hated you, do you remember?" She was standing on a higher part of the garden than him, enabling her to better look into his scornful eyes. He made no reaction. She smiled, a cruel, angry, exasperated smile.

"Well, I do hate you, Van. I hate you more than any man, beast or thing I've ever hated in my entire life. You are selfish and conceited, you have no regard for human feeling, your heart is… is stone! I practically told you as much a fortnight ago, but here are the words you long so much to hear. Here are the short, self-destructive words that you will relish in your angry, bitter little world: I. hate. You."

They stared at each other, the wind groaning and swaying and breathing in the trees and grass that surrounded them. She couldn't stand the fact that he looked so beautiful at that moment. His face was shadowed, sinister, achingly handsome. She cursed the angels who had carved it in sin.

"Aren't you going to leave now?" He asked, quietly. She blinked. He continued before she could respond.

"Only, usually you run away because you're scared of how I'll retaliate. You insult me and then leave. It's quite rude, really."

Hitomi looked at him, amazed. Appalled.

"You're saying that I'm—"

"I'm saying, Miss Kanzaki, that you are perhaps the rudest, most impossible woman I have ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"Well, I—"

"And you assume you have the highest moral ground of anybody, when in fact it was you who came here, it was you who found me last night and it was you, madam, you who kissed me back."

Hitomi swallowed, "I did none of that out of choice."

Van laughed harshly, "No, of course you didn't."

God, how she hated him.

"Well why did you even try to kiss me to begin with!?" She countered. Van shook his head slightly.

"I did not 'try' to kiss you, I kissed you. It's called attraction, Hitomi. Lust, magnetism – call it what you will but don't pretend it's anything more than that. It happens. You feel it, I feel it. Let's not deny it any longer. I'm attracted to you and you're attracted to me—"

"I most certainly am not!"

Her interruption caused him to stop talking and narrow his eyes at her. The wind died down, giving way to unsettling silence, everything deceptively still around them. The moment stretched unbearably. Time seemed to slow. She felt his hand take her wrist gently, without warning, holding it between their bodies. Not taking his eyes from her livid ones, he pushed up her sleeve gently so it left the skin of her wrist bare. He moved forward to whisper in her ear before she could fully form a suitable protest or turn away.

"What are you—"

"Yesterday, when your body was arching into mine as I kissed you, what did you want?"

He found the pulse beneath her wrist and circled the sensitive area lightly, running his fingertips across her soft, receptive skin. Hitomi fought the urge to sway into him as a tingling warmth suffused its way up her arm and down through her body, to where it coiled somewhere low in her abdomen. Her eyelids threatened to droop under the sensual onslaught. She tried to remember where they were. What he was capable of.

"I didn't… want anything. I…" She inhaled sharply as his fingers continued to rob her of coherence, "…I wanted to get away from you."

Van released a breathy laugh past her ear, "Do you know what I think?"

She let loose a shaky gasp as she gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. He held her wrist between them, still, close enough to their bodies to gather the heat radiating from both.

"I think you don't understand what you wanted. I think it scares you. I think it's scaring you right now."

She blinked at him as he moved back from her ear, her mind only half-awake. His eyes darkened as they caught hers. He smiled a devil's smile.

"But it's simple." He murmured. "What you feel now, sweetheart… that's attraction. That's lust." He watched her inhale unsteadily, his own breathing uneven. "Do you recognise it?"

Hitomi swallowed thickly. Of course she recognised it. Every time she looked at this arrogant, conceited man standing in front of her, she felt it. Her stomach would tighten, her blood would heat. But until now she thought she had only read about what lust was. She knew desire by definition. She knew passion only by page-number. What she hadn't realised before this moment, was that she burned for this man. She may not like him, and she certainly didn't love him. But she wanted him. She wanted to touch his skin, to hear him sigh in her ear with pleasure. She wanted to hate him as much as she said she did. But she couldn't.

She just couldn't.

Awareness came back to her in slow, lethargic waves. She took her wrist from his grip, her arm heavy and still turgid with sensation.

"Stay away from Merle." She ordered quietly, dazedly backing away from him.

"You feel it, don't you." He said, his voice low, silk over gravel.

Hitomi shook her head in denial, taking further steps away from him.

"All I feel is revulsion at what you are."

They examined each other for a drawn out moment. She knew he saw through her when he smiled dangerously.

"We'll see."

She tore her eyes away from the darkness in his, turning back towards the house. She didn't let herself look back until she had reached the terrace, and even then she only looked up at the sky, at the storm clouds brewing overhead.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She found Merle in the parlour a few minutes later, talking at Chid as if she thought he was actually listening. He stood from his chair as she entered. She bowed her head quickly in response to the greeting.

"Do you feel better, Miss Kanzaki?" He enquired, gesturing to the chair next to where Merle sat opposite him. Hitomi frowned. She didn't see the point in lying.

"Not at all."

He seemed to understand, his eyes flashing some kind of sympathy at her, as if he knew some extent of her pain.

Merle tutted impatiently, "Well I'd rather you spare us the details, if you don't mind. Otherwise I'm going to find Lucinda to discuss far more interesting matters. Did you hear there's to be a storm later?"

Chid latched onto the possibility of the debutante's departure by asking innocently where exactly Hitomi felt the migraine in her head. Merle left, as promised, shortly afterwards, exclaiming her immense boredom. When they were alone, Chid sighed and leant back in his chair. He stared at something out the window as Hitomi regarded her fingernails opposite him, strangely not feeling awkward at all in his presence.

"He's damaged, you know."

The governess blinked up at him, lost in her own thoughts.

"Mm? Who is?"

"Van. He's damaged beyond repair. I just thought you should know." Chid fished into his pocket for something, pulling out a thin metal case. Hitomi watched him extract a cigarette from it.

"I don't see what it has to do with me." But she was curious. She had been for a long time. Chid held the cigarette in his mouth as he lit the end. He inhaled before removing it with his fingertips, holding it down by the chair's side.

"Just don't judge him too harshly." He exhaled a cloud of smoke, "He's… damaged."

Hitomi frowned again, sitting forward in the plush armchair. "You keep using that word, 'damaged'. What do you mean exactly?"

The lord opposite her sighed tiredly, as if preparing himself for long explanation.

"As you probably know, Van is actually the second son of the Earl. Francis Fanel, Folken as he was known by his family, was the first born. Van practically worshipped him." Chid took a drag of the cigarette, glancing at Hitomi for a sign to continue.

"Go on." She said quietly, silently dreading what was about to be said. Chid exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"About five years ago, the family went on their annual relocation to France, to visit the Countess' relatives and such. Van and Folken went out hunting I think. From what I've been told, all was well until they came to a wooden bridge over a river, a rickety old thing, you know the type. Well, apparently Van refused to cross it – they were on horseback of course – and tried to go round another way. Recent floods had made the river-flow vicious. Folken didn't listen, went over it, stood too long on the thing and it broke beneath the weight of his horse. He fell into the river and drowned." Chid took a drag of the cigarette caught between his fingers, staring out the window at the clouds. Hitomi felt rather numb all of a sudden.

"How… How awful." She muttured quietly, though she was practically lost for words.

"Yes, it was rather." Chid said flatly, "Naturally, Van jumped into the rapids after him, tried to save him. Smashed a few bones here and there."

Hitomi blinked in astonishment, "No…"

The lord nodded slightly opposite her, unblinking, "But of course by the time he found the body, he hadn't a hope. I'm not sure whether Folken died in his arms or before then."

The ticking of the grandfather clock nearby seemed to echo throughout the small space. Hitomi shook her head in disbelief. No wonder Van had issues. He was probably still overcome with grief. And after everything she had said to him about being selfish…

"Since then," Chid continued over her thoughts, "He's never really tried to… be accepted by anyone. He's cold. Cynical. He pushes everyone away. He blames himself for what happened, he tells me as much, and refuses to forgive himself, even if it means this sort of… endless pain. He wants to be punished in some way. He busied himself with women for a time, but that got him nowhere. God forbid he ever truly cares for anyone, he'll be scared to death they'll leave him. I don't think he'd be able to sleep at night." He took one last toke off the cigarette before stubbing it out on a nearby ashtray, uninterestedly. Hitomi bit her lip.

"Can't… can't you help him?" She asked, knowing already the futility of the question.

Chid laughed harshly, "I certainly can't. I'm the same bloody person. It's hard enough trying to tell another person not to commit suicide when you've stared at a razor blade for forty minutes that same morning."

He looked at her, and she noticed his smile was filled with sadness, just like his eyes. She remembered everything Liddy had said about his fiancée, how she had died so close to their wedding. It must have been terrible. Horrible.

"Oh, Charles." She whispered. "I'm so sorry." If she'd been closer, she would have touched his hand in reassurance, even if it had forgone propriety. She seemed to have an oddly personal connection with the man already. It was quite disconcerting, how natural it felt to want to comfort him.

"Call me Chid." He said, out of habit, seemingly unmoved, as if the words she'd offered had lost all meaning to him. Then after a moment he added: "And don't tell him I told you about all this."

Hitomi cleared her throat of the emotion that remained there before frowning slightly.

"Don't worry; I don't think I ever want to talk to him again." She glanced at him, "Why… why did you tell me about all this?"

Chid looked back to the window, crossing his legs casually.

"Because I think he's falling in love with you, and you deserve to know why he's finding it so unbearable."

Hitomi began coughing as she tried to swallow. The result was hardly attractive.

"You think he's what?!" she choked, unable to process what her new friend just declared so brazenly. "How do you… how could you even—"

"Trust me." He said simply, looking at her briefly before turning back to the window as if he hadn't just made her heart stop.

"But—"

"Hitomi!" Merle's voice sang out from the doorway, interrupting the governess' offense of denial, "We're leaving for the ride in an hour! I need to you to help me into my riding habit at once!" The debutante entered the room and forcibly grabbed her chaperone by the arm, smiling sweetly at Chid, who continued looking elsewhere.

Hitomi muttered a hasty "Excuse me" to the man who had just confused her beyond bearing before following her charge out of the room. As they went up the stairs, her mind attempted to process all the information that had bombarded it, the task proving fairly impossible.

She couldn't see how Van could possibly be falling in love with her. The very notion of it was ridiculous. They barely knew each other, barely could tolerate the other's presence. And if he was as 'damaged' as Chid seemed to think he was, how could he even know how to love another human being? How could he even let himself? Admitting an attraction to her was one thing, but falling in love… that was something entirely different. Something impossible.

And besides… she could never love him back.

Such a thing, fate would never allow.

-

-

-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


Ooooooooo

Look at all the back-story I'm slowly ebbing in there... am I sly or what? The next chapter will answer allllllllll the questions you've just started hurling at the screen angrily, I promise.

Anyway, if you've read it, review it please, since any criticism is highly appreciated. I may even put this chapter under construction again because I'm incredibly fussy.

Right, I'm off to bed then. Toodles!

P.S. Should I raise the rating for this story? It's getting slightly difficult to tone down the characters' reactions - what can I say, they're passionate creatures. Let me know what you think.

P.P.S. Spirit0 - *Points to attempted paragraphs* :)