iii. Illusion

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"I don't know why you keep pretending you don't want me, Natsume. We both know you do."

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Natsume's gaze wandered through the bright, wide and well-lit ball room impatiently, scanning the crowd, looking for one specific person. He disregarded every woman wearing bright-colored dresses, knowing his girl to be in mourning, which meant that she would probably wear a dove grey or colorless gown.

Why was it that she was always late? He, of course, being the impeccable gentleman he was, was never tardy and always on time. She, being the only daughter of a recently perished nouveau-riche social climber who had ascended society's ladder by being incredibly charming and successful, was more unconventional and less well-mannered. Now, however, she was orphaned, since her father, her last immediate family member, who had been a widower to begin with, had passed away and her mother was long gone.

Natsume's family was anything but nouveau-riche and prided itself by being able to trace their lineage back to William the Conqueror. Natsume was the heir of a vast fortune and an orphan himself; he was the infamous Duke of Nottinghamshire. His little sister attended the best boarding school for young gentlewomen there was, and all of his friends and companions were part of the gentry.

He was expected to wed in due time, and lately it had been all the rage amongst members of society to conjecture and speculate who his chosen bride-to-be would turn out to be. Who would snare the formidable, wealthy gentleman that went by the name of Natsume Hyuuga? Natsume had heard some of the gossip going around and merely scoffed at its inanity. He was sure that he hadn't recently scheduled a date for an upcoming wedding to the bewitching(ly disagreeable) daughter of the Duchess of Surrey, Luna Koizumi, who was almost ten years his senior. And neither, to his knowledge, had he asked Sumire Shoda, the heiress of the Foreman fortune, for her greedy hand in holy matrimony. It had been news to him as well that he had allegedly impregnated the stoic and much admired, exotic Hotaru Imai, society's newest darling, who had been gracing the city with her presence since the begin of the season.

He smirked. He was sure that all of society would be scandalized were they ever to find out the truth. Namely, that he had no intention of marrying any of those admittedly pretty, yet predictable girls. Prim and proper wallflowers weren't his target, as of lately. They should know better, he thought, as he himself was anything but predictable; on the contrary, he was rather known for his recklessness. It might not be in fashion to marry out of love, as love matches were frowned upon and rare, especially if they weren't gainful, advantageous for either party. But it was exactly what Natsume intended to do. Marry the girl he loved.

To be precise, he was dead set on marrying Mikan Sakura, ordinary daughter of a low-bred commoner.

She was clumsy and inept, and since her début two years prior, she was the one person everyone loved to make fun of and ridicule. Something she was blissfully unaware of, for which Natsume was grateful, for he couldn't stand to see her suffer. And he knew that she was given to being overly emotional and prone to melodramatics.

Natsume despised the hypocrisy and cruelty of his peers and acquaintances. He hated the illusion of impeccability and perfectibility they liked to uphold. The illusion of grace and magnanimity, that he knew not to be true. They were shameless pretenders, the lot of them, always trying to keep up with he Joneses, and much as he hated to admit it, he was one of them. He pretended outwardly that he enjoyed their company, and he pretended inwardly to be better than them. But he knew better.

He had been raised having the same amount of hypocrisy and pretension indoctrinated into him, pampered by his parents and adored by everyone around him, and he could have fallen for the impeccable illusion of integrity, but he liked to think that he was clever and savvy enough to see through it.

Now, as he took a long sip of his champagne and tried to avoid the advances of a woman almost twice his age, he spotted Mikan across the room, entering through the big, wooden doors, looking lost and out of place, as usual. As if on cue, everyone immediately started gossiping about her and all the crimes she was supposedly guilty of committing, all the mistakes she was accused of having made in the last twenty-four hours, all the sins she allegedly liked to indulge in. Mikan Sakura seemed to be everywhere at once. She had been sighted indulging in a scandalous tête-à-tête with Koko Yomo the same time she had been been indiscrete with Tobita Yuu.

Natsume snorted and had to keep himself from walking towards her, instead having to contend with just staring at her petite frame. There were enough rumors about her alleged impurity and her blemished chastity. Natsume knew they were constituted by lies and malevolent speculations. It certainly wouldn't help the matter if he boldly strode over there and kept her company. He kept all the facts to himself, all the long hours spent with her, idling away. The nonsense those around him liked to spread didn't hold a grain of truth. But instead of barging into their conversations and defending Mikan's honor, he kept up the illusion of indifference.

A woman settled next to him, touching his elbow. Natsume hardly acknowledged her, praying silently she would quickly leave him alone. He felt her sweet breath breezing over the exposed skin of his neck and kept himself from bristling and rolling his eyes. He turned his head to look at her, annoyed that she kept him from watching the object of his concern and affection.

It was Sumire Shouda who had come to bother him, pressing her ample décolletage against his side. Another day he might have cared for her, but those days had long since passed.

"Watching our favorite Ms. Goody Two-Shoes, I see, Mr. Hyuuga." she purred, her voice sultry and full of irony. Natsume deigned to shrug, but not to answer her verbally.

"I've heard she's tried her luck with you, as well." Sumire continued, a cattish smile gracing her plumb lips.

"Your sources are lacking, then, Miss Shouda." He answered gallantly.

"Afraid not.", Sumire said. "She told me so herself. Has a knack for boasting, the little darling has. Likes to tell everyone of the little indiscretions she so enjoys committing."

Natsume raised an eyebrow. "She did?" He inquired, mild curiosity shining through his voice. He was convinced Mikan had done no such thing. She was the one between the two of them who wanted to keep their companionship a secret after all. He was sure Sumire was just looking to get a reaction out of him, to rile him up a little. Maybe she suspected there was something between him and Mikan, and looked for confirmation.

"Oh, yes.", Sumire assured him, leaning closer until her mouth was inches from Natsume's ear, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I thought if you settled for the likes of her, you would delight in spending some quality time with someone with decidedly more class. Hmmm?"

Natsume snorted, causing Sumire to pout.

"I haven't had to pleasure of enjoying Miss Sakura's company, and neither am I interested in enjoying yours. Consider myself grateful for your generous offer, however, Miss Shouda."

"I don't know why you keep pretending you don't want me, Natsume. We both know you do." she hissed, losing her composure.

Sneering, Natsume answered "I wasn't aware we were close enough acquaintances to be on first name basis, Miss Shouda, I must not have got the message."

She blushed and decided he was a lost cause. "I don't know what has gotten into you, Natsume. Just a few months ago, you were never loath to a bit of flirting and a little tête-à-tête, but nowadays you're just so close-knit. Whatever has brought on this change of heart?" she demanded.

"I looked up the definition of class and it wasn't your name I found. Good day, Miss Shouda."

"Won't you ask me to dance, at least?" Sumire called after him, exasperated, as he extracted himself from her presence, not even dignifying this with an answer. Letting his gaze once again wander, he caught a fleeting glance of an ashen-colored dress, its wearer heading toward the balcony.

Mikan wasn't just common and awkward around others, she was also unrestrained, out-spoken and inconspicuous in terms of appearance. Mikan's upbringing had been carefree and happy, the reason for her cheerful disposition, and the answer why she did not get along well with most participants of social events.

Mikan also happened to be everything Natsume ever wanted. She possessed his heart, she occupied his thoughts. Around her, he could be someone else; a better person. He yearned for her with every fiber of his being.

For Mikan, Natsume would stop adhering to society's strict rules and conventions, and he would stop wearing the illusion he wore around himself like a shameful cloak. But Mikan adamantly refused to give her consent to marry him. Her refusal infuriated him, but it was one of the reasons why he loved her so much. Her principles. She was passionate, and free-spirited, and principled, whereas the rich daughters society tried to shove on him were demure and obedient.

Natsume hadn't seen Mikan since the death of her father a few weeks ago, and she hadn't received visitors since. He needed to see her now, and he hoped that she would finally agree to marry him. The thought of her being all alone in the huge manor she inhabited saddened him.

In the past, obedience and adoration had been everything he wanted and looked for in a wife, but since that one time Mikan had spilled her crystal glass of champagne all over him, he had only had eyes for her.

She had been so awkward about it too. She loudly apologized, her face looking flushed, and began dabbing at his soaked smoking with the sleeve of her elegant dress. Natsume was amused, the on-lookers were shocked, and she was flustered. She was the epitome of unconventional and lovely.

Afterwards, he had made it his mission to taunt her and make fun of her every opportunity he got, but she never took the bait and the whole thing resulted in her bluntly telling him to "shove off." In the middle of the ball room, no less. She had been completely ignorant to the faux-pas, the lapse in manners, she had committed, and it had occurred to Natsume then that she wasn't the sharpest rose on the rosebush. But she was certainly the most exotic and thorny one, making other roses pale in comparison, with her alluring scent and stunning colors.

As he entered the balcony, he saw her standing by the balustrades, her back facing him. He closed the door behind him, not bothering to try and be quiet, not meaning to give her a scare. She didn't even turn around.

"I've been wondering when you would show up." she said, her voice tired and lacking its usually lively, upbeat tone. Natsume approached her, fighting the urge to hug her to him. "You're all I've been thinking about the whole evening." he confessed.

"You're all I ever think about." she retorted, amusing him. They always fel the need to best each other. He stepped next to her, leaning into the balustrade.

"Does that mean you've been missing me?" Natsume asked, hoping she would say yes. She faced him, a slight smile on her lips "Do you even need to ask? I suspect you're not as bright as you like to think."

"At least I'm brighter than you." he teased, and took her hand, kissing her palm through her glove.

"You'll never find a wife if that's how you treat women, you horrible person." she responded, pulling her hand away. He tried to grab it again, but she took a step away from him, eluding him. Natsume frowned. She was even more elusive than usual.

"What's going on, Mikan?" he inquired, instantly feeling something wasn't right, and crossing his arms across his chest expectantly.

She didn't reply at once, but took a few minutes to mull over her words. "I've been thinking, Natsume.", she replied hesitantly, one gloved finger painting invisible patterns on the cold marble of the rail. "You see, my father's last wish was that I be happy. Leading a happy life, that is. A peaceful, quiet life. In the countryside, with a decent husband; a huge family." She looked up at him, her hazel eyes boring into his earnestly. "He knew how I feel about all this." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand to indicate what all of this meant. Still, Natsume didn't understand what she was getting at.

"And I that's what I want too. Fulfil his wish, be happy, lead a long life. Without society's watchful eyes judging me. I can't stand London. In fact, I hate it here."

"What are you getting at?" Natsume asked, impatiently.

She took a deep breath. "It's quite simple actually; I don't want to be your mistress. That...thing...between us has got to stop."

Natsume took a step in her direction instinctively. He was beyond shocked by her words. "What, Mikan, why...I mean, I..."

Mikan smiled faintly. "I don't think I've ever seen you at a loss for words." Natsume grabbed both her hands angrily, raising is voice slightly. "I can't believe you're joking while you're all but telling me that you never want to see me again."

Her expression instantly sobered.

"I need you." Natsume stated. Mikan's features softened, and her fingers intertwined with his.

"No, you don't. I know you will find someone. A girl who will be more suitable than I am. I know there will be someone for you. Someone who will be a match and a partner to you. Who will understand and love you completely. A wonderful, suitable wife." He felt the heat of her skin seep through her gloves and squeezed her hand hard, fearing the heat could slip through his fingers like sand.

He had never realized that she was aware of her place in society. All the times she had refused his proposals and talk of the future, he had written it up as her not wanting to leave her sick father, as her not wanting to rush things. Sure, he had suspected she was self-conscious because of her family, but he would never have thought that her inferiority in terms of status and esteem weighed so much and worried her so.

Natsume saw the unveiled pain in her eyes and pulled her closer to him, her chest pressing against his, and crossed his arms over her back. Burrowing his face in her hair, like he had done a thousand times before. But this time, it didn't have the soothing effect it usually had on him.

"Polka dots.", He said, emphasizing each syllable intently, calling her by his old moniker for her. "I want only one person as my wife, and I'm embracing and holding her at this very moment."

Mikan raised one of her hands up to his face and cupped his cheek. "You can't marry me. What will society think of it? Of you? They would hurt you, and I couldn't bear to see you hurt. Don't you see, I'm doing this for you! Not every love story can have a happy ending."

"Don't act like you're doing me a favor when you're breaking my heart!" Natsume retorted, angry, refusing to belive it, when the horror dawned on him inevitably.

Mikan shoved at his chest, but he didn't let go, pulling her even closer instead. She threw her hands up in the air when it didn't work.

"Why do you always insist on being so difficult, Natsume?" she exclaimed, exasperated. "This isn't any easier for me than it is for you, okay? But you can't marry me, for God's sake, society would shun you if you so much as indicated that you feel anything for me. Anything besides scorn, that is. You're a duke, I'm a mere commoner. What about your friends? They would abandon you! You might fancy yourself in love, enough to make yourself forget all the consequences a union between us would entail. But what about the future? Would you still love me if no one wanted to be seen, associated with you anymore? No one wanted to keep you company anymore? Would you still love me?

"I know how much you love the city and all this! I would be the one to take that from you! I would hate myself. And what kind of marriage would that be? Your passion might make you blind to the consequences now, but I will be the one to rein your temper and put an end to this insanity! What about in ten years, when your lust for me has faded? What about in twenty years, when I will be ugly and frail? Did you every consider that? No, of course not, you're reckless and think the love you feel for me will be enough to conquer every obstacle that might be thrown our way."

"You're such a god-damned martyr, aren't you? Think you're oh-so high and mighty, yes? Think you can tell me what I feel and will be feeling? You have no idea of the intensity of my feelings. I love you! I need you by my side! You think I care for any of those people in there? If they abandon me first chance they get, they aren't my friends. It'll just help me see whom to trust and whom to get rid of! Hell, Mikan, you're all I ever think about. I couldn't picture a future without you by my side! For you, I would live in the countryside for the rest of eternity. But without you, I will never get to be happy. I will never stop thinking of what might have happened between us. How happy we could have been. Don't do this to me! I need you by my side! Don't you see that?

"If you think any of those idiots in there are any competition to you, you are wrong! I need your touch to keep me sane. Want me to go in there and tell them so? Because I will! I will, if only that means I can keep you. You don't know me at all if you think I would get back on my promises that easily. You don't know me at all! How could you do this! How could you give me everything, let me have a taste of bliss, let me think it's permanent, and then suddenly take it all away? Just up and leave, without asking me, like we never had anything, like we never shared the bed, never shared feelings?"

Natsume was breathing heavily after he finished, his gaze never wavering from hers. He saw tears glittering in her eyes. When she finally answered, her voice broke.

"Natsume." she whispered. "Kiss me. One last time." She titled his face toward his and closed her eyes, melting into him when their lips met. The kiss wasn't passionate. It was sweet. It felt like a goodbye. It felt as good and right as the first kiss they'd shared all those month ago, in the parlor of her house.

"I'll never see you again, will I?" Natsume asked, his voice cracking, when they parted. She smiled sadly. "No, I'll go abroad, travelling with a friend from back home." She leaned her forehead to his. "We only deceived ourself. The illusion of happiness gave us hope. But deep down, we always knew this wouldn't end well."

Natsume nodded numbly, releasing her lithe body as she stepped away.

"I love you." Natsume sat, more to himself than to her. She was already halfway to the door, but she turned around one last time, and smiled wistfully. "I'll never forget this very moment my whole life. The two of us, on a mild summer night, saying goodbye and being desperately in love. We'll never be as young as we are now, Natsume. You're a promising man, I'm sure you'll get over me soon enough. What's first love compared to a life full of promises and possibilities, full of beautiful women and passion? I know, you'll have forgotten about me in no time."

Having spoken her parting words, she left.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Natsume muttered, closing his eyes, and enjoyed the cool night air cooling down his temper, the wind gently touching his face where her hands had been mere moments ago.

A/N: I knooow, this is the epitome of cheese and drama, but I've always wanted to write a period piece-ish one-shot. I quite like it, actually. I originally planned on giving the one shot a happy ending, but a sad one seemed more fitting. Might write a follow-up to this some time, but you can at least expect some prequels, I have already finished a few. And thanks a lot for the reviews, they really, really mean a lot and I appreciate every one of them. :)