"Good morning, Uncle," Mary brushed her hand on his shoulder as she walked past his chair in the study.

He nodded up from his tea, "Good morning, my dear. How was the party?"

"Wonderful," she poured herself a cup. "I had a lovely time."

"It seems our Zelda had such a wonderful time that she felt it very much so this morning."

Mary gasped, "Was she ill?"

His head bobbed solemnly.

Taking a sip of her tea she held back a sigh, "That girl needs a constant chaperone."

"I thought you were her chaperone." Her uncle added.

Mary swallowed her shame, "I'm sorry, uncle. I should've kept a better eye on her."

He gave her a warm smile, "It's all right, Mary. I'm just happy she didn't do anything too silly. I know she isn't mine to worry about, but I still worry about her." He took another sip of tea, "Though I can see why she acts out, with a sister as strict as Elizabeth."

"Uncle!" Mary tried to sound scolding but found herself giggling instead.

He shrugged. The clock near them chimed eleven. Mary gazed out the window. Half of it showed the lush green of their yard while the other half showed the bustling streets of the city. Mary liked the contrast. Her two favorite worlds both outside one window.

Her Uncle spoke, "Mary, how do you feel towards, Lord Navarlen?"

"He's a respectable man," she said as she had said many times before. "He's a very amiable man."

"Well, don't get too passionate," he laughed. "Those are facts, Mary. I asked how you felt towards him."

Mary tried not to let her face betray her indifference, "I admire him. He is very kind to me." Her Uncle was not convinced. Mary felt her facade slipping and could not keep it up, "I could do a whole lot worse, and I'm not sure if I could do better. I know that he would not harm me or disrespect me. He would be a good father and a good husband."

"But you do not love him," Uncle Archibald finished.

Mary stared into the milky brown of her tea, "I'm not certain I'll ever find love, Uncle. Perhaps I'll just have to build it."
ooo
Even as the carriage rocked to a halt Mary was still second guessing her decision.

Go home. Just go back home.

No. I'm just repaying him. I'm doing a simple errand.

You just want to see him because you fancy him.

Mary fought away her blush.

The coach door opened and Mary stood in front of the house she'd been at the night before. It looked different in the daylight. Less looming and mysterious. More friendly and warm.

Even as she knocked on the door she doubted her decision. Part of her hoped no one would answer. She could go back to her home. Back to her safe home where it was predictable.

Where it was boring.

The door opened on a lanky butler.

"Miss Lennox?" He asked.

Mary was so stunned he knew her name that she almost couldn't speak.

"Yes," she sputtered. "I'm here to see Mr. Dowers. He's not expecting me-"

"Have you finished the book already?" Called a friendly voice from inside. J. S. Dowers sauntered coolly to the door as the butler stepped aside. "Do come in. Thank you, Oliver."

Mary smiled and obliged, "Thank you. And no, I have yet to start it actually." The butler offered to take her coat and gloves but she shook her head. "I actually wanted to repay you for the vase. I still feel so awful."

James laughed, "You've nothing to apologize for. I've told you, the vase isn't important to me. You needn't pay me for it." He motioned to a small sitting room, "Would you like to stay for a bit, since you are here after all?"

You should say no. You did what you came to do. Just go home.

"Yes, thank you," Mary said as she followed him to a long back wooden chair. She sat, placing her purse on her lap.

He sat as well in the chair next to hers. There was something oddly familiar and comforting simply sitting next to him. She liked sitting next to him, simple as it was.

He smiled, "It's not your vase to repay anyway."

"Yes, but I knew Zelda wouldn't do that."

That made him laugh. Mary liked his laugh. It was warm like a home.

"Would you like a copy?" He asked. "Of the book, I mean. I have at least ten."

Mary simpered, "Oh, you needn't-"

"I insist." He stood and pulled a copy from one of his many book shelves. Mary tried not to stare as he did so and tried not to blush when she did.

He walked back, holding the book proudly, "Here you are. Fresh off the press."

Mary looked at the blue cover embossed with gold lettering spelling out The Castle's Key by J. S. Dowers.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, running her gloved finger down the cover. She wanted to touch it with bare hands but knew that was improper.

He smiled proudly, "I think so. I'm very happy with how it turned out. I think it's my best work."

"How did you start writing?" Mary asked, hoping she wasn't prying too much.

Dowers sat with a huff, a thoughtful look upon his face. "I dabbled a bit with it during the war. I became more serious about it later. I thought traveling would inspire me, but mostly my past is what gave me answers."

"And what is your past?" Mary pried further.

Mary knew she was being ridiculous. If he was Dickon, he would've told her by now. He wouldn't be playing around with her like this.

Or maybe he has a reason for concealing himself.

You are ridiculous.

His head dropped to his chest, "Mary, I-" he smiled, stopping himself. "Miss Lennox, I-"

"Call me Mary," she told him.

It's him. I know it it's him.

She felt like crying and she wasn't sure why.

There was a knock on the study door. Dowers moved away from her instantly. He regarded the knocker with a raised brow.

"Yes, Oliver?" He asked.

Mary turned to the butler who'd answered the door earlier. He stood up straight as though a bean pole grew up his spine. His black hair was receding a bit and his face had quite a look of bewilderment.

"The war office called, sir," his voice was very soft.

Mary watched as Dowers's jaw tightened dramatically. The brow lowered, hooding his light eyes.

"Yes?"

The butler swallowed, "The war, sir. It will be over as of noon today." He let slip a small smile, but quickly covered it up.

Dowers's face shifted immediately. A grin the size of the moon showered his face with light.

Mary's heart leapt, causing a smile to play on her face as well.

"That is most excellent news!" James stood up immediately. "We must have drinks. Miss Lennox, what would you like? Champagne? I think this calls for champagne!"

Mary didn't have any time to answer for he bounded off in an instant. He came back just as quickly with two flutes of the sparkling white drink.

"Thank you, sir-er-James," she said.

He held out his glass, "To peace."

"To peace," Mary said, chiming the glass and taking a sip. It's far too early for drinking, Mary. And drinking at a strange man's house as well.

He isn't a stranger to me, she countered.

A plaintiff look painted his face as he sat down and sipped the fizzy drink.

"So you served in the war, James?" Mary asked.

"Yes," was his curt answer. Mary expected no less. Men did not like to talk about the war.

She continued, "Lord Navarlen did as well. He was actually a general at one time."

"Is that so?" James sounded very disinterested. Mary regretted bringing it up. "How is Lord Navarlen anyway?"

"He is well," Mary answered calmly. "We're having dinner on Friday."

James gave a small smile, "That sounds nice."

"Yes, I think it shall be. We're going to a very fine restaurant."

Mary was not a simpleton. She knew why men took women to very nice restaurants. He meant to propose. She knew that.

She just wasn't sure what she was going to say.

"Are you going to the ball on Thursday?" He asked.

Mary grinned, "The Masquerade? Yes, I am. I'm so excited. I've never been to one."

"Neither have I," he answered with a sheepish look. "Society is still fairly new to me."

"You're doing very well in it," Mary said. "Zelda fancies you quite a bit."

She wasn't sure why she said it. It was a stupid thing to say. Did Dowers fancy Zelda? Is that why he didn't worry about the vase?

Was Mary very wrong? Was she simply letting her imagination get the best of her once more?

Dowers mouth twitched, "She's a very spirited young girl. I'm far too boring to appeal to someone like her."

"I do not think you are boring," Mary answered, simpering.

James met her eyes, "I'm very grateful for that."

His eyes were so like hers. The same lightness and openness. His gaze made her feel positively naked, like he could see her very soul. She felt something stirring inside of her that she'd only felt a few times before. This strange wanting she did not know. She knew that if she did not keep it contained it would swallow her whole.

The clock chimed the hour. Mary saw that her drink was gone. Yes, that's why she was feeling so strangely. The bubbles inside of her were from the champagne, not from him.

He dropped the gaze, "I'm sorry to have kept you so long, Miss Lennox."

"Mary."

"Mary," he grinned. They both stood and both hesitated to move.

Then he did something most unexpected.

James took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss there. It was not an uncommon gesture, but still not one regularly done. Mary couldn't remember the last time a gentleman had kissed her hand.

The bubbles in her stomach threatened to spill over.

"Till Thursday then," he said.

With a copy of her new book in hand, she left his home.

Her head swirled around and around, filling with the most scandalous of visions.

His kiss had felt so wonderful on her hand.

She wondered how it would feel upon her lips.