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"And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays."

A Midsummer Night's Dream


Chapter Three:

A week had passed and she hadn't heard a single word from Michael. It had been foolish of her to hope for anything between them. They came from two very different worlds, and pursuing a romantic relationship with him could possibly amount to social suicide. And even though she was perfectly aware of that, she was still disappointed.

Sitting by the fire in the library, she found herself unable to concentrate on the words. After having read the same line three times, she finally set the book aside, letting out a sigh. As such, she was not at all bothered when her lady's maid entered the room.

"My Lady," Sophie said, "You have a visitor."

"Bring them in." She nodded

She was sure the visitor was just one of her friends making their regular visits, and was very much surprised by the person Sophie led into the room.

"Michael," Evelyn said, immediately standing up, pressing down her skirts, "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, you invited me," he replied, "For afternoon tea."

"Yes. Right." Evelyn said, turning towards Sophie, "Can you please bring some tea and cakes to the drawing room?"

"Of course, my lady." Sophie said, nodding before leaving

"Follow me," Evelyn said, leading Michael out of the room, "I thought that I invited you over a week ago."

"As I recall, you said whenever." Michael pointed out

"That I did." Evelyn replied, more impressed by his comeback than embarrassed, "But, generally speaking, it's considered rude to not take up an offer within the week."

"Then I'm only a day late."

"A day late, is still late." She said, opening the door and stepping inside the drawing room,

The room was large and well furnished, with a chandelier and paintings covering the walls. It probably seemed ostentatious to Michael, and suddenly Evelyn felt self-conscious. Watching him intently, she took a seat on the lounge.

"I'll have them light a fire," Evelyn said, "It can get rather chilly in here."

"Are you cold?" He asked, beginning to pull his jacket off

"Oh, you don't have to do that." She assured him, waving it off, "Please, take a seat."

There was something different about him, in the way he acted. It was far more similar to the night they met, then when she had visited him. The stoicism was derived from politeness, not defensiveness. A necessity to keep up appearances, as opposed to suspicion of her intent.

"Has Mr Shelby returned?"

"Yes."

"Is he okay?

"No."

"Of course he isn't, why would he be." She muttered, "Stupid question."

"Polite question." Michael corrected, smiling slightly at her, "It's a beautiful house. Very large."

"I don't know how many times I've gotten lost in here." Evelyn admitted, "When I was a child, my brother and I would play hide and seek in our house. Always took us forever to find each other. Even longer when our cousins joined in." She smiled at such fond memories, but they just made her miss her younger years more, "Do you have any siblings?"

"No." Michael said, "Well, a younger sister but she died, and I don't remember her. And, a younger foster brother."

"Foster?"

"Yes. I was, taken from me mum, when I was young." He explained, "It wasn't her fault. They took because of who she was."

"I'm sorry about that." She said, honestly saddened, "Do you still see your foster brother?"

"I haven't really seen any of them," he admitted, "They weren't to happy about me finding my mother."

"That's unfortunate." She said, "For them, and you."

Their conversation was interrupted by the maids entering with the food, and Evelyn was secretly glad for it. They were straying into oddly intimate territory, just like they had done last time they had been alone. If she was sensible, she would ask one of the maids to stay. But sense seemed to escape her whenever Michael was concerned.

Setting the trays of food and tea down on the tables, Sophie nodded at the pair of them as Evelyn offered her a thanks, before ushering the others out. One particular maid was rather reluctant to leave, her eyes trained on Evelyn's companion.

"It seems like Daisy's taken a fancy to you." She said, picking up the tea that had already been prepared, her particular order already being known

"Who?"

"The maid." Evelyn said, pointing towards the door they had exited from, "She couldn't take her eyes off of you."

"Are you jealous?" Michael asked, smirking at her

"No." She shrugged, "You weren't looking at her."

Michael chuckled at her, placing a scone on his plate and bringing it closer to him to eat. The slight flirtatiousness of their interactions was not foreign to her, it was how ladies were expected to treat suitors. In fact, had they been with company, she would be deemed too frank.

"Oh, you've got a bit of," Evelyn told him, gesturing to her own face the placement of the cream

Once his first attempt failed to clean it off, she reached out, using her thumb to wipe it away. It was terribly improper of her. Even more so when he caught her hand as she tried to pull it back.

Their eyes were locked together, her breath hitching as she realised just how close their faces were. And how much closer they were getting. The involuntary flick of her eyes down to his lips was all the encouragement he needed, before he pressed his lips against hers.

The first thing she noticed was the sugary taste of his mouth, no doubt from the scone he had just consumed. The second, was that her lips had instinctually began to move against his almost immediately. Her husband had only ever given her chaste kisses, and whilst there were others before that, it was perhaps the lack of romantic affection she'd received that had her moving her hands to the back of his head. This was more than just improper, it was unbecoming of a lady.

She knew that, and thus, a part of her was relieved when they were once again interrupted. Pushing him away, she hastily attempted to regain her composure as she called out for the person to enter.

"Would you like me to start the fire, my lady?" Daisy asked, and Evelyn didn't miss the way her gaze travelled to Michael

"Ah, no, there's no need." Evelyn said, standing up, "I think I'll show Mr Gray around outside."

It was just an excuse to diffuse the charged situation, but she was still slightly annoyed at the girl for forcing her to see sense. She wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and keep kissing Michael. But she couldn't.

Still, that didn't stop her from slipping her hand into his to pull him out of the room. Perhaps it was only because of the wanting looks Daisy was casting his way, or maybe she just wanted to have her hand held.

"Mr Gray?" He asked, "I thought you called me by my name?"

"If I did, she would run off and tell the rest of the staff about my familiarity with a stranger. And a male one at that." Evelyn explained, "I'm not embarrassed. Not at all." She assured him, "It's just, I've been taught my entire life that the most important thing was keeping up appearances."

"And why's that?"

"Because reputation is the most important thing to a noble family." Evelyn said, "Most of us don't have day-to-day jobs, so our social lives are the most important things. One does everything to avoid ostracism, otherwise life would be frightfully boring."

"I can understand being bored with your life." Michael said, "Before I found my mother, I hated the village I grew up in. It was too,"

"Picture perfect." She offered, "You found yourself screaming inside, wanting nothing more than to escape it all."

Freedom was a common dream among young women, which was usually squashed by marriage and children. Then, it was expected that a woman would fall into an ever selfless role, dediting nothing for herself but the contentness of her family. It had always seemed, from the topics that all other ladies had obsessed over in their youth, that a woman's entire life led up to her marriage. After that it was all babies and married bliss. You would think, that with so many of their parents only playing the charade of happiness, they would have a less idealised view of married life. Or, perhaps, that was the very reason why.

"The gardens truly are beautiful," Evelyn said, "I often go riding around in summer."

"You have horses?"

"Of course. I made sure to bring my own when I moved here." Evelyn said, "I couldn't just leave her considering how many trophies I've won because of her."

"Trophies?"

"You, my dear sir, are looking at a championship showjumper." She said, proudly, it being one of her few accomplishments that was not intrinsically linked to her family status, "I haven't competed in awhile though."

"Why?" He asked, "Because of your husband?"

"It wasn't seen as appropriate during mourning." She explained, "Do you ride?"

"I love horses." He said, "I was kind of disappointed when we moved into automobiles."

"Would you like to go out riding?"

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?" He asked, "And, you're hardly wearing suitable clothing."

"I could ride in anything." She said, "A dress won't stop me."

Once the horses were saddled, and Evelyn had changed into the riding boots she kept in the stables, she led him out across the lawn. They journeyed far enough away from the house that they were allotted some amount of privacy, free from the prying eyes of servants. Dismounting the horse, she tied the the reins around the branch of the tree, Michael following in suit.

There was a chill in the wind, and she regretted not retrieving a coat before they left. Not that she had really thought out their departure, or the repercussions of it. She had just wanted to be alone with him.

"You were right," Michael said, "This is beautiful."

"I come out here almost every day." She said, "It's such a peaceful place."

She deliberately left out the part where Samuel had been the one to show it to her during their courtship. Or the fact that he'd asked to be buried there, but his mother had requested he be placed with his father and the rest of his family. It was tradition, and nobility rarely strayed too far from tradition.

"Here," he said, placing his jacket around he shoulders, having noticed her shivering, "Better?"

"Much." Evelyn said, stepping closer to the tree, reaching her hand to lean against the bark, "I had my first kiss under a tree just like this one," she told him, "He was a stable boy. A maid caught us and told my mother, who told me that under no certain terms was I to ever do it again."

"Because he was a stable boy?"

"I was only fourteen at the time," she said, "But had a been a few years older and doing that, it would've caused quite the scandal."

"And, if I was to kiss you now, under this tree," he said, moving closer to her, "Would that cause a scandal?"

"Yes." She admitted, her eyes never leaving his, "But I still want you to kiss me."

That answer seemed to please him, as his flirtatious grin widened. Leaning his head down, she leant up to join their lips. This kiss started out as rather innocent, but soon grew with enough passion to rival the first. Without any intention, her back collided with the tree, but she was too distracted to notice the discomfort.

Once she felt his tongue on her lips, she pulled away, practically giddy with glee, a blush spreading across her face. At first, her eyes avoided his, but when she did look up, they were caught by the look in his eyes. She couldn't quite describe what it was. More than desire, but definitely not love. Something in between. Something, that had her satisfied with her decision to extend her invitation, and wanting to extend many more.