A/N: BOOM! I'm back with a vengeance. I've been travelling for a month, so you'll have to forgive me for the MA-HU-SIVE gap between updates. But yes, how is everyone? Good? Good.
This chapter is LONGG, and I'm really not confident in whether you'll like it or not, so please feel free to say "WHAT IS THIS VERBAL FAECES I'M READING!?", if it displeases you. However, if it does not displease you, then I would, of course, prefer it if you didn't mention faeces at all in your review.
Anyway yes, long chapter. LOTS TO THINK ABOUT, so pay attention if you please.
ENJOY!
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"There is often something alarming in an occurrence, merely because it is that which we least expect." – 'Paul Clifford'
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Hitomi had never been good at riding.
In all honesty, she had never been able to see the logic in flinging herself onto a horse, only for it to gallop away at a frightening pace with her flailing atop it, gripping onto its reins for dear life. Riding gave her no pleasure, no feeling of achievement or pride in her ability. Indeed, the only thing riding had ever given her was a sore bottom, which was hardly rewarding.
She frowned inwardly as a stable lad brought a particularly menacing mount before her.
"Know 'ow to ride, miss?"
The governess mentally shook herself, overcoming the temptation to say no and forgo this ridiculous activity altogether.
"Unfortunately, yes." She muttered quietly. The mare winnied.
"'er name's Eve." The boy handed her the reins, smiling slightly. Hitomi swallowed, staring into its glassy black eyes.
"How… nice."
After sheepishly patting the sheer, glossy coat of the brown mount, she stepped onto the block beside it, hoisting herself into the side saddle. It was the first time she'd ridden in years, and the complexities of positioning oneself onto a bizarrely shaped seat in a dress that was incredibly inappropriate almost got the better of her. Fortunately, with some subtle wiggling, she gripped onto the pommel and the reins, praying to god it would start raining before they left. Perhaps then there might be a chance of remaining indoors for the afternoon.
Twenty minutes later, her hopes were completely dashed as she trotted towards the forest behind the others, staring up at a sky that had become damnably clear. It was the first time she'd seen the sun in hours, and yet it seemed dimmer than usual, to her tired eyes. Her attention was drawn back down to earth again by the familiar sound of Merle's laughter, and she looked ahead to see the girl throwing her head back in abandon as Charles Aston rode easily beside her. Hitomi saw him lift a quizzical brow at the debutante's overstated reaction before he faced forward again.
They were out in a party of seven, altogether. Merle rode with Chid in front of Hitomi, Lady Fanel was in front of them with an unknown gentleman, and Millerna Aston headed up the group with Lord Dryden, who, according to the latest gossip, was set upon courting her. Van, ever the elusive host, was nowhere in sight. Hitomi was especially thankful for his absence as the distance grew between her and the rest of the party, simply because, yet again, she felt she had nothing left to say to him. A mere two hours before, he had apologised to her, insulted her and practically seduced her in the space of about five minutes, which must have been some sort of record. And in turn, she had made clear the extent of her hatred towards him. Indeed, she had practically screamed it in his face. But she abhorred the fact that she couldn't seem to avoid him, cursing the way he kept entering her thoughts, uninvited, as per usual. She couldn't stop herself recalling it, remembering the way he'd held her in the rose garden that morning, re-living the sensuous threats he'd whispered into her reddening ears.
But she did not believe he was falling in love with her; of that fact, she was certain Chid was mistaken. Van was a practiced seducer, a Don Juan, the most revered rogue of the ton; men like him did not fall, not for anything, nor anyone. At most, Hitomi surmised he was experiencing the inevitable ennui that the aristocracy often fell prey to after attending too many of the same parties with too many of the same people. He was teasing her, like the boys who sat behind the girls they liked in the Sunday-school room, silently dipping the ends of their hair into inkpots, grinning. Van had clearly never expected her to turn round and protest. He had expected her to give in, because nobody ever denied him anything. He was a powerful, enigmatic and arrogant scoundrel, and he was rich, which made him a perfectly eligible rogue. For the mammas of the marriage mart, he was the piece de resistance, the must-have bridegroom for their eager, naïve debutantes. Moreover, she knew of women, debutantes, wives and widows alike, smitten with his graceful negligence, who had given their bodies to him willingly, begged to be taken; one of his mistresses had even threatened to commit suicide when he'd tired of her company (even if the threat had clearly been one of empty words).
And all of this seemed to add up to one, key question in Hitomi's mind: had he ever been refused? The tension and passion that arose between them every time she denied him seemed to point towards the fact that, until now, he had never suffered the icy barb of rejection. Hitomi blinked several times and stopped her horse.
It seemed that, in the midst of her self-debate and confusion, she had just solved the very mystery of their whole tempestuous relationship. It was simple, really. Van was not pursuing her because he was falling in love with her; no. He was pursuing her because he couldn't stand the fact that she wasn't falling in love with him.
"What a ridiculous man." She murmured, watching the others canter away without her. By this point, they had entered the heart of the forest, and the wind had begun to groan ominously through the trees. She looked up through the foliage and saw dark, deathly grey amidst the green. It was going to rain, and she was going to get absolutely soaking again. Good god, why did the weather hate her all of a sudden? She sighed, urging her horse forward to catch up with the others. As she made her way through the trees, she caught sight of Chid trotting along, slowly. He seemed to have left the group. He turned his horse as he heard her approach, smiling easily.
"You seem to be taking in the landscape far more thoroughly than the rest of us, Miss Kanzaki."
Hitomi stopped her horse beside his, returning his smile easily, "I must admit that my head is still entirely elsewhere. In all honesty, the landscape is the last thing on my mind."
"Hm." Chid regarded her warily. After a moment, he frowned. "I'm sorry."
The governess looked up, "What on earth for?"
The blonde lord patted his horse's neck absently. "For drawing your thoughts back to Van again." His eyes caught hers, "I can safely say that he is not worth your time."
She blinked, surprised at his openness for the second time that day. "Oh, I'm not thinking about Van." She lied quickly, "It's just I… I think I'm coming down with a cold."
Chid's expression immediately changed to one of concern.
"Shall I escort you back to the manor? We were going to stop and have tea at the summer house just on the other side of the forest, but—"
"Oh, no, please." Hitomi silenced him with a gentle hand on his sleeve, which he looked down at briefly before returning his gaze to hers, "I wouldn't want to take you away from Merle."
The Duke's heir smiled slightly again, "I assure you it would be no great sacrifice."
"Please, I'll be fine." She waved away his chivalry, "I can assure you I'm quite capable of riding alone. I can find my own way back."
Chid frowned again, clearly considering the accuracy of her affirmations. Hitomi naturally assumed he would be paranoid about female riders after what had happened to his fiancée. She waited to be told of her incapability.
"Alright, if you're sure." He said, after a moment, to her surprise. "But turn straight back, no dawdling. It'll rain soon."
Hitomi nodded, "Tell Merle not to worry, will you? Although I doubt she'll mind terribly if she has you all to herself."
He smiled, turning his horse. "Indeed. Well, if you run into Van on your way, tell him we've gone to the summer house. He should be riding up by now."
She nodded again, waving as Chid kicked his horse into an impressive canter, hoping against hope that she would not bump into their ever absent host.
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Van loved riding in the rain. Nothing could compare with how it felt to race his stallion against the downpour, to drink in the rain that streamed into his mouth and down his back, to revel in the sturdy, steady beat of hooves upon the earth. He'd watched the storm clouds rolling in as he'd saddled up his horse, Lucifer, a black beast he'd trained himself, and had purposefully waited for the first drops to fall upon the grounds before he had galloped out of the stables. By the time he'd reached the forest, the rain was as torrential as it had been the day before, and he was practically soaked through. He grinned to himself as he threw off his hat and let the water catch and saturate his hair.
He'd wanted to leave for the past hour, but freedom had remained elusive as he'd dwelt upon the meeting he'd had with his father that morning. George Fanel, the Earl of Adomwood, once a respected and dashing nobleman who had captured the hearts of the ton, and most notably, the heart of the most beautiful woman in Paris, was bedridden, and had been so for the past year. However, the illness itself had begun more than four years ago, and even the best doctors in the country had initially been mystified at the Earl's sudden lack of energy and appetite. Their only diagnosis had been to claim that the grief he felt over his son's death had literally, if temporarily, crippled him. And yet days of suffering became weeks, weeks trailed into months and those months dragged on into years of melancholy. Throughout all this, Van and his mother could only look on in silent horror as the man they knew faded into a shadow of his former self in front of their eyes. And now, it seemed his illness had worsened to a point of no return. Now, the doctors said it was the end. Now, they could only wait.
Van dreaded every word he exchanged with his father. Folken's death had affected all of them, and yet it was the Earl who had fallen to the deepest, darkest depths of grief. After all, Folken had been his rightful heir, his first born. The Earl had prepared him, groomed him to take over the responsibilities that came with such a prestigious title. Van had always been too young, too unprepared and fickle, in his father's eyes, to carry such a burden on his shoulders. But now it seemed there was no choice. It was often that Van wondered whether, if it had been him who had drowned that day instead of Folken, his father would still have fallen to the same, sorry state. Every instruction, every piece of advice he received from the man seemed to be laced with a silent disappointment that was so acute it made his heart ache.
"You must find a wife." The Earl had urged, his voice slightly rasping, earlier that day. Van had been pacing in front of the fireplace.
"You say it like it is a chore." The viscount had muttered, leaning an elbow on the mantelpiece and staring into the flames.
"It is a chore," The Earl had said, more forcefully. Van turned his head to him. "It's a chore sifting through countless, mindless women until you find one who makes you so furious with yourself, you don't know whether to strangle her or kiss her."
Van sighed. "You were lucky." He said, darkly, starting to pace again.
"Stefan."
The Viscount flinched, stopped and turned at the authority that remained in the barked syllables of his full name.
"This is your duty. You must secure an heir. You cannot and will not run from it, do you understand me?" The Earl used the last of his energy to sit up and point an accusatory finger towards his only son. "You cannot run this time."
Those words rang hard in his ears as he galloped violently through the storm. But he was running, at least for now. And he would run until he forgot what he was running for, and then he would stop, and breathe, and break. And then? Then he would pick up the pieces and return to reality, take up the untimely responsibility that had fallen upon his shoulders, and marry Merle Rogers. Ironic, really, how his original plan had employed the young debutante in an effort to avoid matrimony. But at the end of the day, she was titled, popular, and a rather pretty little thing. It was a good match, one his parents would approve of. And even if the spinster governess had refused to allow it, he would make it happen. Though it pained him greatly, he knew he would have to give up his freedom, his youth. He had to; for his father, and for his brother, who would have done the same. God had abandoned him long ago, and fate had waited far too long. Duty had finally enslaved him, and had smothered the final dregs of his spirit.
He raced through the forest, barely looking where he was going, trusting his horse to take him away, barely missing branches and dodging tree trunks. The world rushed past him in a blur of colours and shapes, of greens and greys and browns, of hot and cold, wet and dry, dark and light. He could hardly breathe, hardly think. He revelled in the sense that he had vanished into nature, and grasped onto each moment as if it were the last he could spend as himself.
Then he heard a scream.
It took a moment for the world to stop spinning in front of his eyes, and when it did finally stop, the scene before him unfolded in torturous slow motion. Another horse had momentarily blocked his path, and to avoid collision, had started rearing up on its hind-legs as he had galloped past, launching itself up so it was practically parallel to the surrounding trees. But it was only after it had begun its descent back to earth that Van realised it had been carrying a rider. A woman. And she was falling, falling. Screaming. He swore loudly, galloping back to her at full speed and leaping off his horse in an attempt to reach her before she hit the ground. The unmistakeable thud he heard over the sound of the rain was deafening. He cursed again, falling at her side, his coat billowing out behind him, reaching for her limp, unmoving body. He threw away the bonnet that had fallen in front of her eyes.
And his heart sank when he saw her face.
"Hitomi…" He pushed the wet hair back from her face hastily, his arms reaching under her to instinctively support her. "Hitomi!" She made no response. Without faltering, he tore his right-glove off with his teeth, his fingers moving to her pale, bared neck, to where he prayed the beat of her pulse would be. He bit down on his lip in concentration, trying not to panic when he couldn't find it. After an agonisingly long moment, he felt it, slow but strong beneath his fingertips, and breathed a sigh of heady relief, his head falling to his chest momentarily. Gathering himself within a matter of seconds, he picked her up as gently as he could. He needed to act quickly, to find a place he could inspect her injury and make her warm. Immediately, the wood-cottage came to mind. He knew it was only a matter of minutes away, far closer than the manor.
He glanced down at the unconscious governess in his arms, wondering what in God's name she was doing out here on her own in the first place.
"Damned foolish woman."
Without further contemplation, he whistled for Lucifer to follow, leaving the other mare to run back to the manor if and when she pleased, and began trudging through the mud and leaves in the downpour, swearing liberally and often. He tried to move quickly, but didn't want to worsen Hitomi's condition by mistake; for all he knew, her life could be hanging in the balance. He gritted his teeth against the rain, pushing on, checking every now and then if Lucifer was behind them. Finally, the cottage came into sight. He knew it well, for he spent much of his time there when he wasn't up in London, longing for the bursting silence of the woods. He hoped his mother had the good sense to keep it maintained throughout the year, otherwise by now it would be full of dozens of scurrying, unwanted visitors.
A little less cautiously, he ran to the door, peering in through the window beside it briefly, noting the dank darkness lying behind it. Taking a steadying breath, he tried to get it open, but the handle seemed jammed. After swearing profusely and trying it again, and again, he gritted his teeth, adjusted the unconscious woman in his arms, and gave it a solid kick. Thankfully, it swung open to reveal the damp but clean and dust-free interior of the cottage. He sidestepped in, steering well clear of the doorposts, and caught sight of the day-bed on the other side of the room. It was a small cottage, only one floor, but furnished comfortably with plush armchairs, rugs, a desk and several bookcases. As he crossed the floor, he glanced at the fireplace, thanking some form of higher being that there was a little fresh, dry wood next to it. He placed Hitomi down gently onto the daybed, realising, to his dismay, that her dress was absolutely soaked through. Cursing again, he ran outside, guiding Lucifer into the small stable by the side of the cottage before returning, slamming the door behind him.
"Hitomi," He walked across the floor and crouched by the day-bed, his hand first on her shoulder, then on her cheek. It was ice cold. "Hitomi, can you hear me?" He frowned when she made no movement, save the rise and fall of her chest. She started to shiver.
He swore, again, and moved to take off her riding jacket. He grabbed the lapels, but checked himself as he realised just what it was he was doing. The woman would probably kill him if she woke up now, to an image of the man she most hated, divesting her of her clothing in a deserted shed. Frowning, he then realised that there really was no other choice; kept in the wet clothes, she would definitely contract a fever, and he wouldn't be able to do anything to help her. After a steadying breath, he wrenched the garment open and, after some tedious manoeuvring, slid it off her. He then went to work on her heavy skirts. Unsurprisingly, he made rather short work of undressing her. Indeed, his long-standing rakish career ensured that he was no stranger to the hooks and fastenings of ladies' frocks. Throughout all of this, he talked to her constantly, his soft mutterings punctuated by odd curse-words that were the only signs of his disquiet. Once he'd gotten her down to her chemise and stockings, he stopped, swallowed, and wondered what to do. After running a hand through his drenched hair, he fingered the fabric at her waist. Somehow, it was remarkably dry. No need to strip it off. He sighed in relief, and ignored his gathering disappointment.
"Blankets, blankets, blankets…" He stood up abruptly and looked around, catching sight of several fluffy looking coverlets draped over a nearby armchair. He grabbed three and immediately went to work on wrapping up the shivering invalid. When she was tightly bound, he smoothed some of the hair from her face.
"Hitomi?" He watched her intently for a moment. She didn't move. His face fell. Another soft curse passed his lips.
Frowning, Van picked himself up and went over to the fireplace. After creating an impressive blaze in a matter of minutes, he started undressing, keeping an eye on the governess the entire time. Stripping off completely, he wrapped a blanket around his lower half, tied it, and then dragged the daybed Hitomi lay on before the fire, next to a well placed, comfortable-looking armchair. He sighed and looked down at her, noting her strangely peaceful expression. Indeed, it was bizarre to think that the last time he'd seen her had been that morning, and she had been shouting at him, apparently revolted by the mere sight of him. He had only meant to apologise to her and ask her permission to court Merle, and yet when she had denied him, he had found himself drawn to her again, found himself taking her into his arms, holding her, tempting her with his body. And yet again, he'd seen the unmistakeable fire of passion burn within her eyes, felt it upon her skin. His own eyes narrowed.
I hate you more than any man, beast or thing I've ever hated in my entire life.
He hated the fact that his blood heated just thinking about her.
You are selfish and conceited, you have no regard for human feeling, your heart is… is stone!
"Damned wench. You're more trouble than you're worth."
Here are the short, self-destructive words that you will relish in your angry, bitter little world: I. hate. You.
He settled into the armchair, preparing himself for a long day and, doubtless, a sleepless night as well.
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Hitomi awoke feeling rather like a caterpillar. One that had been bashed on the head with an enormous, sharpened rock. She groaned, blinked, tried to bring her hands to her head, and then blinked again when she could not manage it. Confused and disorientated, she looked down at herself, wondering how on earth she had become wrapped so tightly in her own blankets. It was then she realised that she was not, in fact, in her own bed.
She shot upright, terrified, bursting out of the coverlets, and then let out a scream when she saw somebody had undressed her. That same somebody leapt out of the armchair next to her, looking round hastily.
"What?! What is it?! Wh— Stop screaming, for God's sake woman!"
Hitomi did. She blinked again, several times, her eyes adjusting to the soft glow from the fire. She recognised that voice. Indeed, it was the same voice that had been invading her dreams only moments before. The figure before her seemed only to be wearing breeches, his torso uncovered, bronzed in the firelight. She swallowed.
"V-Van?"
"The very one." His gaze flickered down past her face before he made himself turn towards the fireplace, "Christ, woman, cover yourself."
She looked down again, horrified, and clutched a nearby blanket to her practically transparent chemise.
"What on earth… Where the hell am I?! What happened? Is Merle alright? Where is everyone? If you've—"
"Bloody hell, slow down will you?"
"But I don't—" She broke off, paling rapidly, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared again at his unclothed body in undisguised terror. "Did we…--" She trailed off, aghast.
Van rolled his eyes at her.
"Don't look so terrified; please, it's insulting." He sat down heavily, waving an arm dismissively, "You fell off your horse and passed out, I found you and took you here; the others have doubtless returned to the manor, I assume that Miss Rogers is absolutely fine, and before you ask, no, we can't go back until the morning because the rain is so bloody heavy that it's sheeting out the landscape."
"Fell off my…" Ignoring the rest of his explanation, Hitomi clutched her head and found a bump somewhere round the back. She swallowed, looking up at her supposed saviour. "But how?"
The Viscount stared into the fire for a moment. "Lucifer frightened your horse."
Hitomi raised her eyebrows, "Lucifer?"
"My stallion."
Then she frowned.
"You named your horse after the devil?"
"Naturally."
The fire crackled in the silence. Hitomi sighed after a moment and slumped back against the arm of the daybed, gathering the blankets tighter around herself as she stared vacantly out of the window on the other side of the room. It was still raining heavily, and the low rumble of raindrops on the earth was punctuated only by a thunderous crash. She flinched as the whole cottage seemed to shake, trying to calm the nerves which cinched tight at the thought of an ensuing storm. Van looked over at her, disinterested.
"I assure you, you're quite safe in here." He returned his gaze to the fireplace, sprawling out lazily in the plush armchair, his elbow leaning on its arm, his chin resting on his unturned palm.
Hitomi had not failed to notice his state of undress since she'd awoken, but had chosen to ignore the fact that waking up here, alone, with him, in her undergarments, went against practically every rule of etiquette she'd ever thought to remember. So, in a further effort to disregard the lithe, effortlessly toned and bronzed body lounging a few yards away from where she sat, she began to study their temporary shelter. Looking round the room, she spotted her skirts, blouse and jacket hanging nearby. She cleared her throat.
"Was it… was it entirely necessary to undress me?"
Van's gaze remained on the fire.
"Entirely." He muttered, unmoved, with no further justification.
The governess fought the urge to harrumph, crossing her arms beneath the blankets that covered her.
"Well, surely my clothes are dry by now. How long have I been asleep for?"
The Viscount looked out the window, to where darkness loomed, black as death, on the other side of the glass. He sighed.
"About five hours."
Hitomi's mouth popped open. Appalled, ready to scold him for not waking her sooner, she scrambled to sit up quickly, but regretted it as her head began to spin. She groaned as vicious lights danced in front of her eyes. She squinted them shut, but before she could move further, felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders and a cool palm settle on her forehead.
"I would urge you to stop talking, but I know you'll continue, so there's really no point." Hitomi forced one eye open to gauge where he was, but only caught sight of a smooth, tanned shoulder. "What you must do, however," He continued to murmur in her ear, "is lie down."
She felt him manoeuvre her body onto the cushions.
"Don't tell me what to do." She ordered pathetically, not even bothering to struggle as her head continued to implode.
"I wouldn't dream of it. Now shut up and go back to sleep."
She really should have argued, but found herself drifting back into the abyss almost immediately. As her senses dimmed, she felt a lock of hair fall over her eyes, only for it to be smoothed away by the gentle, callused fingertips of the man she most despised. How curious, she thought, that anybody, especially him, would have even bothered to save her. After everything she'd said to him, she couldn't believe he still had the capacity to be kind. Indeed, she'd thought him incapable of showing anybody sympathy. She'd thought him heartless.
And just before the darkness claimed her, she cursed fate, because now she owed him her life… and God only knew what he would ask for in return.
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When she awoke again, it only took a moment to remember where she was. This time, she made no movement, no noise. She merely opened her eyes and sighed. What a ridiculous predicament, she mentally berated as she caught sight of the ebony-haired rogue sitting opposite her. How she would manage to explain her way out of this situation, she had no clue.
She squinted at him in an effort to make out his features more clearly in the firelight. Still shirtless, he was elegantly sprawled in the same chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, his chin still resting in the palm of his hand. And before Hitomi could ask him what on earth the time was, the Viscount emitted a light but unmistakable snore. It seemed that, after hours of watching over her, he had finally fallen asleep. She peered at him through the semi darkness.
His features, usually held and checked so carefully, so often set in a crafted mask that disguised every weakness, every flaw, seemed so different in sleep that she barely recognised his face. He looked so… young, so... helpless. The tension and calculation in his brow no longer remained, and those dark, predatory eyes were closed off from the world, seeing nothing but the rapturous darkness of dreams. He seemed more handsome now, at peace with the world, than she had ever remembered seeing him, the dim glow of the dying fire highlighting the cut of his jaw, the shape of his slightly parted lips. She sat up carefully, not wanting to wake him as she continued to regard him in the silence.
His hair seemed to have dried haphazardly, and Hitomi suspected he had been running his hands through it constantly as he'd waited for her to awaken, since it appeared to be sticking up every which-way. Several locks still fell in careless waves over his forehead, making his innocent state seem rather more sinful. But it was she who was presently being the more sinful of the two. Indeed, even in sleep he tempted her beyond bearing. She swallowed as her gaze dropped from his face to his neck, to shoulders that were surprisingly broad, and arms that were surprisingly muscular, trying to stop the path of her eyes as her gaze travelled across his body, trying to ignore how much her fingers itched to touch his sun-kissed skin. It was only when her gaze reached a faded scar which had once torn part of his toned abdomen, that she realised how ridiculous she was being, acting as if she had never seen a man before. And yet, in all honesty, she had never seen a man like him before. For God's sake, the specimen before her was practically oozing virility, even when he was unconscious. No, she had never seen a man like him. And she had certainly never met one.
"It's rude to stare, you know."
Her eyes snapped up to his, lazy but intent upon her. She reddened. He regarded her, calmly, still leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly turned up at the corner. He'd clearly been awake the whole time she'd been studying him.
"I was…" She looked away, flustered, "I was simply— your scar, it's…" She trailed off, pathetically.
Van's smile fell as he glanced down at the hardened scar tissue that slashed across the left muscles of his abdomen. Then, wordlessly, he looked into the fire again. After a moment he cleared his throat, as if something had caught at the back of it.
"I fell into a river a few years ago." He muttered quietly, rather too calmly. "There were… rocks."
Hitomi swallowed, recalling the conversation she'd had with Chid Aston earlier that day.
…Folken didn't listen, stood too long on the thing and it broke beneath the weight of his horse. He fell into the river and drowned. Naturally, Van jumped into the rapids after him, tried to save him. Smashed a few bones here and there…
"My brother…" He began, quite unexpectedly. Hitomi hastily tried to school the pity from her features when he looked over at her again in the silence. Before continuing, he regarded her for a moment, noting her expression, then smiled, mirthlessly.
"You already know, don't you."
It wasn't really a question. The governess opened her mouth, preparing to denounce any knowledge on the subject, but upon seeing the Viscount's, tired, resigned expression, closed it promptly. She nodded, mutely. Van sighed.
"Of course you know. Everybody knows." He leant back in the armchair, "I suppose it was Chid who told you?"
Hitomi nodded again. To her bewilderment, Van didn't seem surprised, or even angry. He simply sighed again and looked out of the window. For a few minutes, both of them just listened to the sound of the rain outside amidst the crackling of the flames a few feet away.
"Have you…" His voice caught her off guard as he turned back to her, catching her gaze. "Have you ever lost someone?"
The question came completely out of the blue, and yet she was not fazed by it. She thought about refusing to answer it, seeing as she was still furious at him for… well, everything, and right now it seemed entirely improper for them to be discussing anything but the weather. But considering the fact that she had already broken every law of etiquette and propriety within the last two months of meeting the infamous Viscount lounging before her, and considering the fact she was stuck with him until daybreak, she gave up on decorum, and spoke frankly.
"My mother." She said, quietly, after a moment.
It was… strange, not arguing with him. Undeniably, they weren't shouting or cursing or even teasing. They were just… talking. Like civilised, human beings. It was such a direct contrast to how they had behaved only hours before, Hitomi could barely comprehend the lunacy of it.
"And were you close to your mother?" Van was staring into the fireplace again, at the rapidly dying embers, seemingly still lost within his own thoughts.
Silently, Hitomi's fingers crept to the pendant, hanging at her neck. "Well, yes, I… I suppose I was. But she died when I was seven, so I can't say I remember all that much about her."
After a few seconds, Van turned to her.
"Do you… remember her face?"
The governess blinked, and then frowned a little. She had never been asked such crudely-put questions before, not by anyone.
"Her face?" She repeated, the crease in her brow growing more severe with concentration. Van was still watching her, rather more intently than he had been. "Well… I think I do, yes." She stroked the ruby beneath her fingertips, as if it still held tangible traces of her mother. Closing her eyes, she tried to form a picture within her mind. "At least, I remember she was very beautiful. She had… long, wavy brown hair… and her eyes were green."
"Like yours."
Her eyes opened to find his gaze on her.
"Yes."
Something swelled between them briefly; something that, like so many countless other times, made her shiver. Before she could ask herself what it was, Van looked away again.
"I can't see his face anymore." He said, flatly, bringing them back, watching the flames dance before him. "I just…" He closed his eyes briefly, "I try, but whenever I do I can only remember…" Exhaling loudly, he ran a rough hand through his hair, "I can only remember the last expression he ever showed me. As he fell."
"You… you don't have to—"
"He looked so… betrayed." He continued, his eyes narrowing, clearly lost in the haunting recollection of his brother's final moments in this world. "As if I had somehow deceived him, as if it were my fault."
Hitomi only dared to watch in silence as, with unnerving composure, the Viscount drew upon his innermost demons.
"As it collapsed, as his horse started to scream, his eyes caught mine, horrified, terrified." Van's own eyes were indecipherably vacant as he stared into the fire. "He said nothing. He did nothing to try and save himself… but those eyes. They pierced me. They branded me. Brother. Traitor. Coward. They blamed me." He sighed after a moment of unsettling tension, looking to the window. "The truth is, I can remember his face. I can remember everything. I just… don't want to."
He looked over at her, and this time, she didn't even try to mask the compassion in her eyes.
"But you don't have to." She said softly, after he didn't continue. "You don't have to remember all the time."
Van made a sound of incredulity. "I don't have much of a choice." He shook his head in resignation, "My entire family thinks it was my fault."
Hitomi frowned.
"But… it wasn't." She said, simply.
They exchanged a pointed glance before, inevitably, Van turned back to the fire. He sighed, moving on.
"What did your father do when your mother died?"
Taking a moment to think of how best to approach her bizarre life-story, the governess rearranged herself in her blankets.
"He… never spoke about it." She said, choosing not to divulge the complexities of her upbringing just yet. The Viscount certainly didn't need to know the truth. He would only look down upon the fact that her mother had been a Roma. A gypsy. And he would definitely look down upon the fact that she was the bastard daughter of Lord Farquar, a revered and respected member of high society. Nobody else knew, so it was entirely unnecessary that he, or anyone, should ever found out.
Van shook his head slightly. "After Folken died, my father locked himself in his library for three days. When he came out, we'd assumed he'd been writing letters, sorting out the will… but it turned out he hadn't done any of that. He'd just sat, and waited for somebody to force their way in and tell him it was all some kind of… joke." The Viscount closed his eyes briefly. "A week later, he still couldn't bear to look at me. Part of me thinks he still can't, even though he knows he'll die soon, knows I'm the only hope for this family." Here, the Viscount released a short, self-derisive laugh, "In fact, now I think of it, that's probably why he's always so disheartened. He has to put his faith in me."
Hitomi didn't say anything for a minute. They both seemed quite content to dwell on what they had each said, what the other had shared. The fire spat at irregular intervals, alive but inevitably dimming, dying. In many ways, she felt there was nothing to say. And yet it was then that the governess thought to utter the words she had sworn she would never admit to him. They were the same she'd said to Chid earlier in the day, and yet now, in this secluded, almost otherworldly place, they seemed a far less hollow statement.
"I'm… so sorry." She spoke softly.
"Mm…" He muttered, as if he'd heard such sympathetic offerings a thousand times before, staring at the fire for a moment more, before suddenly comprehending the words she'd whispered. He turned his face towards her, the firelight creating dark shadows along the frame of his jaw, the creases of his eyes and lips. The effect of this peculiar lighting made it impossible for Hitomi to see his expression, though from what she could gather from the snatches of his face she could see, he was… surprised. A moment passed between them, around them, and in that moment, as they held each other's gaze, breathed in the same damp air, parted their lips on that same breath, in that moment, they both, mutually, realised that they had shared too much. Not only in terms of their demons, their pasts, their losses and their nightmares, but also in the intimacies they had shared and forgotten, of the kisses, the lingering caresses he had stolen from her, and the ones she had willingly returned. They had shared too much, and now their relationship could never simply be as it had been; they were no longer strangers who had been tangled together in an unpleasant hiccup of fate. Now, it seemed impossible that they could forget the other, it was useless to deny the existence of… something. He had called it lust, but it wasn't so base an emotion. It was something more profound. Unfortunately, neither of them knew, at that moment, just what it was. Or what it may, in time, become.
Eventually, Van sighed and turned away. Hitomi ignored the disappointment that speared through her at the loss of his gaze.
"I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." He laughed bitterly, "I never talk about Folken. I never…" He stopped himself, staring at the last glittering embers of the fire. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling, before he appeared to decide upon something in his mind.
"The fire's going out." He spoke after a minute, his voice soft and even in the darkness.
And that, Hitomi knew, was the last she would hear of Folken. Van had, wonderingly, opened up, unprompted, about the death of his brother, and it had become clear to the governess that the Viscount's melancholy state could largely be attributed to the loss. However, throughout their conversation, she'd had to keep reminding herself that, though terribly sad, the reason for his behaviour over the entirety of their acquaintance was not reason enough to forget and forgive all that he had done to her, said to her. After all, the events of that morning still hung heavy in her mind; his callousness, his… control over her senses.
"What you feel now, sweetheart… that's attraction. That's lust."
She bit her lip.
"You feel it, don't you."
He was still, in every interpretation of the word, a dangerous man. She watched in silence as he stood and put another piece of wood on the fire.
"That's the last one."
The comment brought her from her reverie.
"The last one?" She repeated, "But… how will we keep warm?"
Van flashed his first genuinely rakish smile of the evening, albeit more sombrely than she'd previously seen him do so.
"One activity comes to mind."
Well, he's certainly back to his old self, thought Hitomi, who, without thinking, made a noise of exasperation and threw a nearby cushion at him to disguise her blush at the insinuation. He deftly caught it, his eyes catching the light of his smile, which widened. Pleasantly surprised that she hadn't started gibbering at his 'crudeness', he resumed his seat in front of the fire.
"I don't see you putting forward any ideas." He added, lightly.
Hitomi frowned, "Well there are bound to be more blankets somewhere." She announced haughtily, "Or perhaps I should just throw you on the fire. That would save me a lot of trouble." She covered her mouth a second later, horrified that she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
To her surprise, an undeniably attractive laugh was drawn from the Viscount, who turned towards her in his chair again, grinning. "I'm sure it would save a dozen people a lot of trouble." He acquiesced, darkly amused, "But I'm very bony, you see." At this point, he squeezed a portion of toned skin from his abdomen between his thumb and forefinger. "And I'm afraid I would be a waste of kindling."
The governess couldn't hold back her amusement at the earnestness of his tone, and chuckled before she could stop herself. She couldn't quite believe it. She had never imagined being like this with him, laughing with him freely, as if they were… friends. She felt as if she must be dreaming. Although, in truth, his role in her dreams was never one of a mere… friend. She noticed him watching her intently when she sobered.
"What is it?" She asked, softly, tucking stray hairs behind her ears, trying to hide the blood that had rushed to her cheeks.
He continued looking at her, seemingly contemplating something in his mind. The moment stretched.
"Why haven't you married?"
Hitomi blinked at the startling question.
"I beg your pardon?"
The Viscount smiled crookedly.
"I want to know why you've chosen not to marry." He elaborated, his eyes glinting.
The fire spat again. Shaking her head, the governess guffawed. She couldn't quite get her head round the turn in conversation. "Well, I…" She stammered initially, before growing frustrated that he was even asking such a thing. "You can't really, honestly think that this… spinsterish way of life is a choice?"
Van merely shrugged, smiling still. "Educate me."
At the nonchalant phrasing, Hitomi sat up, hastily, ignoring the wave of nausea that spiralled through her.
"Educate you? Educate you?! I'll have you know, my good Lord, that some us have more pressing things to do than prowling ballrooms night after night looking for a spouse with a suitable dowry!" She barked, suddenly very irritated at his ignorance. "Some of us have to work for a living, and don't have the time to waste!"
He didn't look surprised by her passionate reaction.
"And," She continued when he made no move to speak, "To be quite honest with you, after all the gossip I've heard about mistresses and abuse and the prison-like terms of engagement, I seriously doubt whether—"
"You'll marry at all?" He finished for her, calmly.
Hitomi blinked a few times, opened her mouth, closed it again, and then swallowed.
"Well…" She continued, quietly, "Yes."
Van sighed.
"So you have chosen not to marry then."
The governess gave an indignant exhalation, "No, I said—"
"What you said," Van talked over her easily, "Was that after considering all the gossip that, I must tell you, is only partly true, you had chosen not to marry."
"No," She swung her legs over the edge of the daybed, planting her feet firmly on the floor, quite literally standing her ground. "I never said that I had chosen anything; I said that I doubted whether I would marry, thus implying—"
"That you don't want to marry." He finished easily again.
"Ugh!" Was the exasperated noise drawn from the governess, "Well, what if I don't!?" She demanded, standing up, disregarding her delicate state, her previous argument and her lack of opaque clothing. "What if I don't want to be a man's possession!?" She began to pace, animatedly, "What if," She continued, "I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a man's shadow, what if I want to do something, to be something, be…" She grappled for the words in the empty air, "… independent?!"
Here, she stopped and, as all the passion seemed to seep out of her with every passing second, added finally, "What if I want to be loved, and not merely… kept." She turned to Van, who was no longer smiling.
"Is that such a terrible thing?" She demanded, earnestly.
The Viscount was staring up at her, his curious eyes dark and intent, watching as the firelight warmed the hue of her ivory skin.
"Surely if you married for love then all of those things would be possible." He said after a moment had passed, his voice low and soft. She remained standing a few feet away, breathing rather heavily. Then she smiled in spite of herself, no real humour in her eyes.
"It's quite funny really, you know." She looked wonderingly at the ceiling, "The rich envy the poor because they can marry for love, but really…they must marry for love. There's nothing else that binds them; no dowries, no titles… no demands save those of their employer, if they're even employed at all." At this point, she shook her head and returned her gaze to his. "I mean… I have this wonderful choice that the gentry can't have… and yet, I have no choice because…" She shrugged, "If nobody chooses to love me… then…"
She trailed off, looking towards the fire, which was about to perish in the obstinate dampness of the cottage. The rain still beat a heavy staccato upon the window frame.
"There are plenty of substitutes for love." She heard the Viscount mutter. A few moments later, the fire extinguished completely, the embers dying from orange to deathly black. The speed at which Hitomi felt the cold was startling. So startling that she quite forgot the thread of the conversation. She'd also overlooked the fact that she'd dropped her blanket upon standing up, and now crossed her arms about herself in a sorry attempt to warm up.
"You can't possibly be cold already?" She heard him ask in superior tones, his voice no longer coming from where she imagined he had been sitting, but somewhere nearer. She looked around, disorientated in the gloom, frowning.
"The blankets, I dropped them somewhere…" She knelt down, her hands blindly searching the floor, "And don't forget that I'm hardly wearing—"
Any clothes. She failed to add, swallowing. She searched the floor in silence for about half a minute, to no avail. With a sigh, resigning herself to the fact that she would probably have to do without the blankets, she stood up again. However, the delicacy of her state caused her to lose her balance slightly, and she promptly began to topple over, letting loose a high pitched squeak.
She fell into a brick wall. Or rather, a person who felt particularlylike one.
"Easy." Van muttered, effortlessly stopping her from falling, bringing his arms around her back to steady her against where she'd fallen; against his chest. Hitomi was thankful for the darkness at this point, because she was certain she'd gone as red as a tomato.
"S-Sorry…" She stammered, and was about to move briskly away when a bolt of lighting cracked the heavens outside. She squeaked again as it set the air alight in white for a split second, flinching and inadvertently spreading her hands across the broad expanse of bare chest before her, clutching onto it for dear life. In her semi-petrified state, she realised that it was comfortingly… warm. Solid. The scent of the rain still clung to his skin, and his heart beat slow and steady beneath her ear as darkness crept around them once more. She released a shaky breath, unconsciously moving deeper into his embrace. His arms tightened around her.
"Are you alright?" Hitomi felt rather than heard the voice that reverberated through his chest.
Forcing herself back to reality, she remembered that she had been trying to move away. She had to get away. She must get away from him quickly. Otherwise he'd find out—
Another thunderous boom broke the rain's tattoo on the window.
"Oh God!" The governess released another cry, clinging onto the form in front of her instinctively. She barely felt it when his hand settled in the centre of her back, seemingly in a gesture of comfort. She didn't even care that it went entirely against propriety, she was so frightened. So lost in memories. Darkness fell again.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you." Came the low, apparently rather amused, rumble against her ear again.
A shrill "Mm!" was all the governess could manage in her present state of terror. After a few moments had passed, she still seemed in a condition of immovable fear, strangely now leaning on him more fully for support.
"It's alright, sweetheart, it's passed now." Van muttered softly against her temple, "It's alright."
He attempted to move her away slightly, but the governess merely dug her nails into his skin, whimpering. "No, don't— don't leave me, please… oh God!"
Van looked down, with growing concern, upon the face currently attempting to burrow into his chest. He frowned in the darkness. "Hitomi, what—"
Another deafening crash.
"Please!" She shrieked, and for the first time, Van saw that her eyes were closed. He peered closer, trying to make out her expression in the dimness.
"Hitomi?" He brought one of his hands from her back in order to tip her chin up a little. His eyes widened. Silent tears streamed down her face, and yet her eyes were… it almost looked as if she were asleep.
Another roaring clatter.
The governess squeaked one final time before, suddenly, collapsing fully against him. Van stifled a curse as he caught her weight without difficulty, doing his best to ignore the complete lack of clothing between them. After taking a restorative breath, he looked down. Her face was an expressionless mask, the anxious crease between her brows relaxing with every moment. It appeared that the very consciousness had been drawn out of her by her own fearsome reaction to the storm.
"My back can't take much more of this, you know." He muttered softly and, as if she weighed nothing, swept her into his arms. After securing her in his embrace, wondering what in hell's name had just come over the most steely-nerved woman he knew (apart from his mother), he turned to the daybed beside them and attempted to lay her down upon it. However, as he tried to lower her to the cushioned softness, she made a noise of distress and, seemingly still half-asleep, wrapped her arms behind his neck in an effort to remain with him. Van laughed roughly as her paper-thin chemise rasped against his skin.
"Sweet, you have to let go, otherwise I can't—"
"Don't leave me…" She whispered, pleading, her tears hot against his neck.
The Viscount, growing increasingly more unsettled by her proximity with each passing second, urged her downwards.
"Come on, chick, it's better this way, you—"
Her arms wound tighter behind his shoulders. After a few seconds, he released an exasperated sigh.
"You never make things easy, do you?" He whispered, complaining to her unconscious form as he lifted from her from the daybed and walked to the enormous chair he'd been sitting in before the fireplace. Sighing again, he carefully sat, balancing her in his arms until he felt comfortable enough to settle her across his lap. Immediately, she huddled against him, whimpering as another rumble of thunder shook the cottage.
"Shh, it's alright." He murmured against the top of her head, not really knowing what else to do or say in the current situation. He reached down beside the chair, grabbing his jacket from the floor to drape around them both in the absence of the elusive blankets.
After a few more minutes of trying to settle her, he leant his head against the backrest of the chair, figuring there was little more he could do. Knowing he probably shouldn't risk sleeping with her so precariously resting atop him, and yet feeling the unmistakable claws of fatigue digging at his senses and dragging at his consciousness, he closed his eyes and felt himself falling. He was only awake a few moments longer, but before he dozed off, could have sworn he heard the governess mutter one last plea against his skin:
"Come back… Mama."
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She had awoken bathed in the crisp morning light that streamed in from the window, alone. Upon immediately seeing her unlikely rescuer, thankfully entirely dressed at this point, already settling his horse on the other side of the window, she hadn't even bothered to ask herself how she'd ended up in the chair before the fire, and had gone about donning her clothes rather hastily in an effort to return to the manor as quickly as possible. Needless to say, Hitomi had no recollection of the storm. The last thing she remembered was a rather heated conversation about her marriage prospects (or lack thereof), after which she assumed they had each gone to sleep.
When she had stepped outside, he had greeted her pleasantly enough before looking up at her rather peculiarly, as if he'd expected her to say something important. She had uttered a brusque, "Good morning", which had caused him to narrow his eyes slightly, whether in confusion or annoyance she could not easily tell. She turned, intending to wait within the cottage.
"Did you sleep well?"
His voice had reached her, halting her progress to the door. She didn't turn.
"Yes, thankyou."
Another question came before she had been able to move again.
"Any bad dreams?"
At this, the governess had turned around to regard his expression, which was rather indecipherable.
"None at all…" She had said, turning suspicious, "Why do you ask?"
He'd frowned slightly, before noticeably coming to some sort of conclusion. His expression relaxed, his lips twitching faintly.
"Just wanted to make sure that bump on the head wasn't bothering you."
She eyed him warily for a moment as he went back to tending his horse, before shrugging off his oddly phrased concern. They returned to the manor shortly afterwards, Hitomi upon the horse and the Viscount dutifully leading it by the reins on the ground. Neither uttered a word to each other until they saw the door to the manor's conservatory open, and Van's mother all but fly out of it towards them, her ebony hair and bright blue skirts streaming out behind her.
"Let me handle this." The Viscount muttered up to her, barely perceptively, as his mother neared. The mélange of concern, anger, relief and frustration that crossed the usually impenetrable loveliness of Lady Fanel's features was a sight to behold, or so the Governess thought to herself.
"Mon dieu, Stefan! Where in heaven's name have you been?!" The good lady, almost of the same height as her wayward son, waved her arms emphatically.
"You cannot just… disappear and assume nobody will worry!"
The Viscount rolled his eyes at her paranoia. "Mother—"
"Don't you roll your eyes at me! You of all people should know why I fret; just imagine—"
"Er… M-My Lady?" Hitomi interjected upon seeing the Viscount's expression darken. Two ebony-topped heads turned in her direction. Varie looked up at her as if she hadn't realised the governess had been there the entire time. Then her expression changed to one Hitomi could not interpret as she looked from her, to her son.
"Ah." She said, quietly. "I see."
"Oh— no." Hitomi defended ardently, attempting to get down from the horse and failing, "No, please, it's not like that at all! You must understand; I fell of my horse yesterday afternoon and…" She looked to Van, whose expression was as unfathomable as his mother's. She noted the family resemblance before continuing. "Your son found me unconscious and took me to the little cottage on… on the, uh…"
"The far side of the wood." Van assisted, smoothly.
"Yes," She nodded to him, "he took me there and cared for me throughout the night." Upon realising this phrasing was slightly misleading, she tried again, cursing the blood that rushed to her cheeks. "That is, he watched over me so as to ensure my injury did not worsen."
Her gaze once again fell on Van, whose eyes widened as they met hers. A moment later, his mother cleared her throat, causing him to look her way.
"Is this true?" All the anger in her tone had vanished, replaced with genuine concern. The Viscount nodded. With barely a second's delay, the Countess immediately threw her hands in the air, turning again to Hitomi.
"Dear child! We must get you into bed at once!"
Hitomi, still atop the horse, gestured defensively in the negative. "Oh, I can assure you that's not necessary—"
"Not necessary?" Varie made a very French noise of disbelief, "The girl is mad. Alors, Van, get her off that beast at once!"
Wordlessly, Van complied and, letting go of Lucifer's reins, walked round to where both of Hitomi's legs rested over the saddle, for she'd ridden with the two on one side. With his mother watching anxiously, he reached up to her waist and brought her down to earth. Their bodies brushed for an instant, and their gazes caught. She had to catch her breath when his fingers flexed of their own accord, blushing as her skin heated beneath his hands, his touch all but burning through her riding jacket. She heard him inhale sharply. After an instant that somehow left them both reeling, Van let go of her, bowed crisply, and began to walk Lucifer to the stables without another word or glance in her direction.
"Come, Cherie." Varie went to her at once, placing a supportive arm around her shoulders as the governess watched Van disappear across the field. "Can you walk?"
Hitomi nodded in the affirmative, even though her legs had, a moment earlier, seemed ready to collapse beneath her at what she'd seen in Van's eyes. Heat. Varie began walking them slowly towards the house, telling her of all the party's anxiety at their absence. The governess was barely listening. Merle had apparently been distraught, though Hitomi could guess easily enough that jealousy had fuelled the emotion.
What the Countess did not voice, however, was the drop of cynicism that remained in her mind as to the truth of the governess's tale. Varie had, for lack of a better word, experience, in matters off the heart, and she had, with decided interest, noted how the calloused, roughened hands of her son had stayed but a moment too long upon the governess's waist than was deemed proper. This, in itself, was no great shock to her, for she was not naïve, and knew her son was a damnably talented rake. What was surprising, however, was the fact that she could not remember a time when he had seemed quite so eager to hide and mask his interest in any woman of eligible status. She frowned, telling herself that it, whatever it was, would pass. But she knew she had not imagined the tension that had gripped the pair, which still emanated from the grown woman, caught in a reverie, beside her. Unfortunately, she knew the look that rested in the chaperone's eye. She knew what it meant. Or rather, what it would mean, soon enough:
Heartbreak.
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It took Hitomi an hour to finally convince the Countess that she did not need bed-rest. Unfortunately, by that time, she had already been accompanied upstairs by a gaggle of maids, been bathed and clothed in an expensive silk nightgown (one of the Countess's she assumed), and all but forced into the bed in which she now urgently made her case.
"Please, your grace, this is all entirely unnecessary, I'm fine!" She gestured to herself before dropping her hands upon her lap. Varie only smiled with motherly affection as the maids bustled about the room, collecting clothes and stoking the fire in the grate.
"My dear, you may indeed be 'fine', but as hostess of this party I took a solemn vow to care for my guests as if they were my own family." Here, the Countess inclined her head slightly towards her, "And I daresay that after spending an entire evening alone with my son, you are no doubt very stressed and very tired."
Hitomi's eyes widened, but as she opened her mouth to protest, Varie held up a gentle hand to silence her.
"Sleep for now, rest until the afternoon, and I can promise that you'll enjoy the ball far more this evening." She smoothed the covers at the far end of the bed, still smiling softly.
"Ball?" The governess echoed, her tone anxious. She'd had no idea. Varie turned back to her.
"Why, yes." Replied the Countess, regally lifting her chin a notch, pride investing her features, "It is the same every year, my dear. On the last evening of the Fanel house party, we have a grand ball. It's the highlight of the season, if I do say so myself." She grinned, modestly. Hitomi merely stared at her in horror. It sounded like hell.
"And," Varie continued, disregarding the governess's muted reaction, "Now that the storm has passed, by the end of the afternoon all the absent guests will have arrived, which will make for a grand crush!"
Hitomi could only nod and force her lips into a spiritless smile.
"Oh, that reminds me, they'll be starting to arrive any minute; you must excuse me dear." She patted Hitomi's arm gently, heading towards the door. However, before she reached it, appeared to hesitate. After a moment, she turned back to the governess.
"I intend to tell the other guests the story you gave me as to what happened last night." She said, her tone light and yet firm, elegantly clasping her hands together in front of her. "But whatever else may have happened between you and my son, I urge you to… contain."
Hitomi blinked in astonishment. "I-I can assure you that—"
Varie's lips curved gently, her hand coming up in a gesture of silence once again.
"As long as I have your word."
What exactly was the Countess insinuating?
After a rather surreal moment, Hitomi nodded.
"Bon!" Lady Fanel's face lit up in an unnervingly dazzling smile, "Now, rest well. I'll send a dress up to you later— oh! And some jewels! Do you have pierced ears? Oh, never mind, I'll just pick out a mélange of my old favourites."
Positively beaming, she swept out of the door, bidding the maids to follow. Hitomi could only frown as she was left alone, wondering what on earth had just happened… and what on earth she had just admitted to.
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"They say you're the hero of the hour."
Van barely glanced up at the sound of Chid's drawl, hearing his old friend drop gracefully into the armchair opposite him. They were in the library, generally the Viscount's only escape from the mass of guests that had been arriving since the morning.
"Daniel's here." The blonde lord stated, fixing his ice blue eyes on the book Van was currently absorbed in.
"Hm." Was the Viscount's reply to all the above, before he went back to reading.
"He says he has news from London."
"Hm."
"Important news."
"Hm."
Chid raised a brow, "He says the owl was a baker's daughter."
"…Hm."
"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you."
Van blinked and finally looked up from the book. "Hm? What about owls?"
Chid shook his head in dismissal, "Just a little Shakespeare to gauge your level of consciousness. What the devil are you reading that's so immersive?"
Van glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece before returning his gaze to the tome in his hands, "Just doing a little research."
Peering at said tome, Chid read the title aloud. "An encyclopaedia of phobias…" He smiled, wryly, "Don't tell me, you think there's a goblin under your bed again."
The Viscount's lips twitched, "Not since I was eight and you told me there was a goblin under my bed, Aston."
Chid sighed nostalgically. "Your mother was so furious when you stuck a candle beneath your mattress and almost set the cat on fire."
Van grinned, "That she was. And poor Mittens was never quite the same again." After a moment he sobered slightly, flicking back to the cover of the book he held, "Actually, it's not to do with me. It's for a… friend of mine."
Chid raised a cynical blonde brow. "Oh? And what is this friend so frightened of?"
"Storms."
He said the word as if he was still surprised at it. And, in truth, he was. The speed at which the governess had gone into a trance-like state of terror was… astonishing. In a flash (quite literally) she had gone from perfectly normal to a flittering nervous wreck, clinging onto him like a frightened child. Moreover, the fact that she had no recollection of that entire portion of the evening was very strange. Although, Van acquiesced, it was probably better that way. If she'd remembered the manner in which she'd clung to him, sleeping curled up on his lap, she probably would have swooned anew.
"Interesting." Chid said, though his tone betrayed that, at least to him, it was not any such thing. "Almost as interesting as the story I just heard from your mother." Smoothly, he shifted positions in the chair, leaning forward to pluck the book from Van's unsuspecting hands. Ignoring the Viscount's complaint, he placed it on a nearby table, and leant back again, settling comfortably. "Tell me about the governess." He demanded, casually.
Van looked to the clock on the mantelpiece again. Four fifty-five. He'd have to start getting ready soon.
"There's really nothing to tell." He said, simply, standing up from the chair and heading over to a bookcase. Chid regarded him. A sceptical brow arched.
"Are you telling me," He began, acerbically, "that you spent nigh on sixteen hours in the company of the same attractive woman who you practically mauled not two nights ago in the music room… and 'there's really nothing to tell'?"
Van turned back to him.
"Nothing happened." He shrugged, "You told me not to go near her; I simply heeded your advice. And besides," He added, "she doesn't matter anymore. I've changed my mind."
Chid frowned.
"Changed your mind about what?" He asked, warily. Van sighed, going over what he'd discussed with the Earl the previous morning.
"My father has... decreed that I must marry before he dies." Here, the Viscount leant a shoulder on a nearby bookcase, running a hand through his hair anxiously, "Something about begetting an heir…"
"A veritable deadline." Chid muttered, before clearing his throat, "But what does that have to do with your taste in women?"
Van fixed his gaze upon the carpet.
"Do you remember how originally I wanted to convince my parents that I was courting Merle Rogers?"
"The little redhead… yes, I do remember."
"Well," Van fought the urge to grimace, "I think I'm going to have to marry her."
Chid didn't say anything for a moment.
"What about the governess?"
Needless to say, this was not what Van wanted to hear. He cast his arms up in frustration.
"What about her?!"
"Don't play the fool, Van. You're researching her damned phobias, surely that tells you something."
Van guffawed, not bothering to try and correct him. He looked moodily to the window.
"It tells me that I have too much time on my hands, that's all."
After a moment, Chid rolled his eyes, rising from his own chair.
"Well, if you're deadly serious about marrying Miss Rogers, I would cut all ties with the obstinate chaperone." He straightened his jacket, brushing the invisible dust from his sleeves. Sighing, he checked his pocket watch, "Or if you're dying for the spinster's blessing, you could always convince her of your… inherent good qualities." He looked up, lips twitching.
"You'll have to elaborate." Van caught his gaze, warily. Chid's smile grew.
"Convince her you're a true gentleman." Here, the Duke's heir facilitated an elegant bow to demonstrate. "Charm her, but let her think it is without intent. Do you follow?"
Van's expression turned sceptical as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "So you're suggesting that I… court her without actually… courting her?"
"Indeed."
Van remembered the words they'd exchanged in the rose garden the previous morning. He frowned. "I think it might be a little late for that."
"Then convince her you've reformed." Chid replied easily, moving towards the door. "Beguile her with your generosity, your compassion. And, for God's sake," He turned back to the Viscount briefly, "apologise for your appalling behaviour thus far."
"I've tried." Van murmured, distracted.
"Try again." Chid added smoothly, "And again, until you can do it without accidentally insulting her."
The Viscount didn't even bother to ask how Chid knew him so well. He sighed as the blonde lord left the room, muttering a preoccupied goodbye as the door closed. His mind was a mess. Of course, it would be easy for him to play the gentleman; outwardly, he had always been one. But convincing the governess he had inwardly changed from an infamous London rake to an honourable suitor over the last twenty four hours… needless to say, it would most certainly be a challenge. However, the fact was, he had to do it. He needed her blessing and eventually her permission to court Merle privately, otherwise society, and his father, would never approve. To get it, he would have to demonstrate his 'new-found morals' with finesse and charm. The ball was the perfect opportunity to start. He glanced at the clock again, realising he had yet to dress.
"God help me." He uttered beneath his breath as he walked to the door, wondering what in hell he'd just got himself into when his mind seemed to be screaming only one thing:
Run.
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BOOOOM.
What did you think? Honestly, tell me true. I can handle it.
I really hope it was readable. Am I doing ok? Tell meeeeeeeeeeee.
More on Hitomi's back-story in the next chapter, I purposefully tried to tease you with an incomprehensible snippet - I hope you appreciated my cruelty.
Toodles!
P.S. Regular updates coming throughout the rest of the summer - it's a revelation.
