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bunny-yan · 4 months

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I love reading all your works and although I miss giant man heavily- THIS DUKE GUY IS SERIOUSLY MAKING ME QUESTION MY SANITY 0_0!! I just really want to know more about this story, it sounds so interesting and I can't deny I want the reader to either escape this situation entirely or find a way to survive in these awful conditions ;-; I need to know what's the king's deal with his brother and I do hope that when reader gets out of their confinement they can go back to being distant and aloof to their abusers (I mean, in that same air of "I'm technically not doing anything wrong to our agreement, so you can't be mad at me for just doing my "job""), they can do what they're told (unwillingly) but Duke better not expect some lovey dovey treatment anymore-

Being the masochist I am I would even go as far as to say that reader would barely acknowledge the duke's presence after this betrayal, but the second the King is said to be coming inside their home for a "friendly family visit", reader actually express an immense amount of fear and stress- It's the only time they're able to express genuine emotions without faking politeness and serenity for their sake of their "dear" husband.

SORRY I'M JUST CRYING AND VOMITING AND BARKING, DROOLING, GOING ABSOLUTE BONKERS-

i think it would be interesting to write a story where the darling is absolutely horrified whenever the King plan to visit and the duke is distressed between making you stay and subjecting you to his brother's attention or allowing you to leave, knowing that he'd have to go to his in-law's house to drag you back. but his relationship with his brother is what i want to dive in headfirst

TW: mentions non-con, pretty tame overall, general angst

—

He was intimately familiar with his brother’s things.

Things he couldn’t touch. Things he couldn’t imagine would ever become his own because he was the second son and second sons had to pave their own path since they weren’t meant to take over and couldn’t be given away as easily as daughters.

His brother was used to receiving everything he could never have.

His parent’s love and affection, their time, the teacher’s unimpaired praise, the latest toys when they were younger, the best clothes growing up, and he even had his pick of the most beautiful women from all of nobility.

When his accomplished brother eventually succeeded in something no other ducal household had done, rising to become the monarch of the kingdom, the position he could only dream of having was given to him as a consolation prize. There was no pride in having attained the duke’s title. It was simply another of his brother’s hand me downs that had been sapped of all gratification and sentimentality. There was nothing he’d experienced that his brother hadn’t already conquered.

Until he met you.

Unimpressive you.

Hailing from one of the diminished baron families that only had a title to separate them from everyday commoners, his brother, his king thought it prudent to choose a partner that would keep his brother humble considering his newfound status.

There really was no point in resisting. No one piqued his interest enough to fight for and he wasn’t stupid enough to imagine a life with someone that could ever gain him recognition significant enough to stand by his brother’s side.

Getting engaged without his say in the matter was simply a reminder of where he stood, a reminder that wasn’t needed considering his apathetic stance on the direction his life went. But after meeting you, for the first time he’d actually been grateful to his brother.

Timid reluctance on your first meeting quickly changed to hopeful curiosity after a surprisingly passionate wedding night. You began to seek him out, interested in getting to know your husband. Interested in getting to know him.

Not the second son.

Not the King’s younger brother.

It was hard to wrap his head around at first, but the more he received this attention that he’d never gotten the chance to receive before, the more he’d crave it. Irritation quickly turned into easy intrigue when you would visit him simply to ask how his day was going. How he felt. If he was interested in discussing the duchy’s current issues. If he wanted to vent about anything and everything. So great was your interest in his worries. It caught him off guard for someone to be so concerned about his wellbeing.

It was unfamiliar.

He wasn’t used to the bleeding concern that would fill your eyes whenever he was injured during training and though it happened rarely, a part of him felt a sense of urgency, wanting to behave a little more reckless just to see that look in your eyes. To feel your soft comfort and care.

Even more surprising was the way he could completely let his guard down around you.

Taking off the constant edge, he often found himself lying in your lap, arms encircling your waist as you caressed his hair or allowed a thumb to brush against his cheek when you weren’t carelessly messing with his ears or tracing the shape of his face with your fingers. It was an intimacy he could've never hoped to imagine. To dream about and yet he did. He’d often drift off in moments like these, waking when you’d shake his shoulder to rouse him from his dreary state and if you’d managed to fall asleep as well he was overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t describe at the sight of your peaceful face, sleeping beside him.

It was easy to fall in such a tranquil rhythm, living while being needed. Wanted by someone who had no obligation to be with you. He remembered just before your engagement was finalized, his brother offered him the opportunity to divorce if the relationship didn’t last. It would’ve been a huge blow to his pride, but he wouldn’t be stuck with someone he couldn’t stand to be around. He tried to treat you indifferently, refusing to allow you to become a stain on his perfect record, but you blew through his defenses so easily. It could’ve been your easygoing personality or the fact that his walls would’ve crumbled at a touch, had someone cared enough to destroy them and now that you had crossed to the other side he didn’t want to return to that emotionally destitute solitude, knowing what genuine companionship felt like.

You’d changed him.

From a man alone, seemingly content in his sole authority, to one that smiled on occasion with eyes that warmed to the things you said, grateful to have someone treat the rare laughter that’d erupt from his lips as a sacred treasure.

You changed him… And the King noticed too.

The Duke shouldn’t have been surprised. It never took his brother long to pick up on things like this. He was partly to blame for making it so obvious that he wanted to return to his manor, to return to you. And anything that interested the King’s younger brother was sure to pique the King’s interest.

He felt at odds when the King raised the proposition.

On one hand, he hated the idea. The thought of allowing him to touch you in the same manner that he had was repulsive. It aroused every rebellious instinct the Duke possessed which was surprising considering he never once thought to deny his brother anything. It wasn’t the second son’s place to deny the eldest what he wanted. He’d been reminded of that time and time again regardless of what it was. Even the gifts he’d received for his birthday, his favorite model cars that his older brother had no interest in would be snatched away if he spared them even a glance. The young Duke, scolded if he protested.

On the other, he didn’t want to appear as a greedy child who couldn’t share. His brother often showed an interest in the things that he liked, but if he pretended they didn’t really matter, that interest would wane to the point of nonexistence. So he’d play nice and share. No matter what his brother did, he was sure you wouldn’t develop an interest in him. You wouldn’t stroke his hair like you did his or whisper sweet nothings in his brother’s ear. These things were parts of you that were reserved for him and knowing this only gave him a sense of pride that grew when he noticed the signs of irritation on his brother’s face. For once, he relished in the fact that he had something that his brother never would.

He’d forgotten how much his brother didn’t like to lose.

The Duke sensed that things had changed after his brother’s visit.

You’d looked at him with sad, eerie eyes, mouth opening to say something you couldn’t quite put into words. Something you dared not to voice.

But you didn’t have to explain. He knew everything.

Petting you, he held you tight before going to handle his business as usual. Except you usually interrupted his work to bring him a snack or force him into a conversation over tea. Neither of which happened that day. Or the next. Or the day after that.

Concerned, he asked if you were okay and to his surprise you began to cry. You tried to explain to him what happened, but he shook his head, confused as to why you were bringing it up. You’d done your part and the King was sure to lose interest now that his curiosity had been satisfied.

The Duke didn’t understand the look of betrayal in your eyes.

He didn’t understand why you no longer invited him on trips to walk around the garden that he’d filled with flowers that reminded him of you. A section with his and your birth flowers tangled together where the two of you would linger felt distant. It felt strange being there by himself as he traveled in search of you, wondering why it was so hard to catch a glimpse of you these days.

You had dinner in your room, not the one the two of you shared. The bedroom, that you’d all but lived in since your wedding, felt empty and unused whenever he set foot in there now.

You went out, sometimes earlier than he woke up and you didn’t come back until the sky was dark and the only sound that greeted him in the pounding silence were cicadas and the sound of a pen attempting to scratch away the dread, the worry that built after not seeing you, the concern that this wasn’t something that would simply go away.

You couldn’t look at him, let alone touch him when he did manage to track you down and he couldn’t bear that disgustingly familiar sting he felt whenever you’d move away from his outstretched hand, avoiding the touch he’d attempted to share. Balling his fist, he’d pull away and attempt to convince himself that you needed space. It was normal to have hiccups in a relationship and space was something, along with time, that helped.

But with every passing day, every moment, the distance between the two of you seemed to get larger. Any attempt he made to bridge the gap only seemed to push you farther away and he hated the smug look on his brother’s face as he poked and prodded his brother on how married life was going.

As if he’d known this would happen.

Finally having enough of this, he asked you. What was wrong? Why had you changed? How could he get you back to how you were before, is the question he didn’t get a chance to ask because, to his surprise, you’d gotten angry.

You’d never been angry with him. Frustrated with his nonchalant behavior or confused with his hard to read moods, always. But never angry.

At least not like this.

You looked at him as if you were searching for something and something surged in his lungs when you drew away, unable to find whatever it is you were looking for. It felt like he had failed, recognizing those eyes that plagued him his entire childhood, and he couldn’t even be certain of what.

He couldn’t understand why you were claiming that you were leaving him!

You’d become an irreplaceable existence in his life and yet you were so ready to rip that away from him. To leave, abandon him to the crushing loneliness he didn’t realize he endured before. Now that he’d gotten a taste of happiness, he was hesitant to let it go.

More than hesitant.

The thought of you being anywhere but by his side felt appalling to even imagine, an incomprehensible idea.

He couldn’t let you go. Not if it meant returning to that time. But why is it that the words he’d been desperate to express, words that became harder and harder to say as soft pudgy hands became calloused and hard, were impossible to tell you?

Don’t leave me.

“You have a duty to this duchy.”

I don’t want to be alone.

“A responsibility to uphold.”

Please.

“If you’re so willing to view what happened as a shameful act regardless of my permission, then maintain it as a personal defect and don’t let it interfere with your obligations.”

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

Hold me. Touch me like you did before. Look at me as if I’m the only one, the only one, the only one.

He couldn’t bear to imagine you on the arm of another. To think of you looking at anyone else the way you did when you were happy, concerned, in love.

He grabbed at his chest, begging for something, for anything to alleviate this torment, for someone to tell him what he’d done wrong.

“So, how is married life?”

His brother wore an easy grin, calmly laid back with a woman on his lap and a man at his side.

Ever the pious ruler.

He’d rather die than admit that things weren’t going well. The Duke couldn’t bear to see his brother’s smug grin.

“You were so excited to show them off to me, I couldn’t help but be curious. But they’re rather boring aren’t they?”

The Duke stilled himself.

“Even in bed they seemed content to just lie there and it was hard maintaining an ere-”

“Please excuse me, Your highness. I have matters to attend to at home.”

He got up and began to walk out, not having to turn around to see the shit-eating grin on his brother’s face. The look of superiority as if he’d always be below him.

“Oh, baby brother. When will you ever learn?”

Those words stayed with him. Even as he pulled out the key to unlock the door to your shared bedroom. It was relieving not having to search the entire manor to find you, but you had become quiet. Despondent to his words or touch. Even now as you sat on the bed, you didn’t move when he sat next to you. You didn’t spare a glance in his direction when he placed a hand on the small of your back and you said nothing when he asked you to speak to him.

He should’ve known.

In their younger days, his brother couldn’t bear to see him have anything that he hadn’t already played with.

How could he forget that his brother only lost interest in those model cars that he’d been so proud of, that he shined everyday, that he treated more preciously than himself, after he’d pulled the wheels off of them?

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yandere duke

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vodrae · 8 months

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Batkids :

Dick : Romani

Jason : Latino, (I think half Bazilian half Mexican but I can go the wrong way here)

Tim : Caucasian

Stephanie : Caucasian

Harper : Caucasian

Cassandra : Chinese (because Asian means nothing)

Duke : Black-American

Damian : Inherits all his mother's genes, Arab-Chinese

It's just funny to me that at first sight everybody would assumed Bruce's bio children are the 3 wild bisexuals (like their dad)

Jason is 100% latino, with black hairs and glowing green eyes, like Damian, all it needs is one picture taken with Selina.

Only one. And all Gotham would speculate to know not if, but how did Bruce and Selina hide their relationship so long.

And then out of nowhere Talia Head, Lexcorp's CEO, would drop the bomb, she's the one in long term relationship with Selina and Bruce had the kindness to...Give a part of him for every kids.

Jason, Damian, and Cass are hers.

Tim, Harper, Cullen are Selina's.

Duke is Alfred's grandchild by Julia Pennyworth.

Dick is the lovechild of them three, only one officialy adopted after the Flying Grayson's murder.

And Stéphanie broke into the fridge one day and Bruce didn't ask question.

I want chaos, I want to see the kids not knowing if they want to to laugh, admire her or puke (of joy to be a real family)

Kate, then annouce she's in the same situation with Poison Ivy for Barbara Gordon, but their lover was murdered, it's logic because...RED. The anarchy ! (If we're going with Barbs being Jim's niece then adopted daughter.).

Why didn't Bruce asked question for the blondie, LEMME TELL YA. Because Steph is the lost daughter he had in college with a certain Harleen Quinzel ! She told Jack Ryder !

And then everybody leaves the gala. Mission accomplished.

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sailor-brunette · 3 months

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So many shoujo getting anime these days...yet here I am,still waiting for Kitchen Princess,I Swear I Won't Bother You Again and Accomplishments of the Duke's Daughter...

#Brunette ramblings #Brunette salt #Kitchen Princess #I Swear I Won't Bother You Again!#Accomplishments of the Duke's Daughter #Shoujo #Shoujo manga #Shoujo anime #Light novels

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unluckycactus · 21 days

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Acquaint Fate bonus scene

Rosalyn, Alberu & Choi Han tell Cale about HeniRoksoo's shenanigans in the destroyed world

◇──◆──◇──◆ ✦ ◆──◇──◆──◇

After Cale busts the meetings in Beacrox's kitchen and confronts everyone, thus making HeniRoksoo no longer a taboo topic, there's this moment—

In-between their plan to drag HeniRoksoo to their world, an unlikely scenario occurs.

It’s late at night. The kids are asleep, so are most adults at the villa.

In a room far away enough to not disrupt anyone, Rosalyn, Alberu and Cale gather. They’re tipsy as fuck (we all know Cale is sober), laughing quite loudly.

Choi Han is there as well, sitting on the far end of the sofa Alberu and Cale sit at as well, looking at a spoon in his hand as if it held the meaning of life.

Rosalyn cackles madly, hitting the armrest of her individual seat as she says:

“Remember when he made the Orsena go bankrupt?"

Alberu's groan says he knows exactly what she's talking about.

"That was nasty."

Rosalyn giggles, swirling her cup of wine.

"Oh, please. You loved it."

"For political reasons, I can't deny nor confirm that statement." They lock eyes, and Alberu breaks character. “Oh, who am I kidding?”

Cale raises an eyebrow, but waits until his friends are done laughing. He knows they will fill him soon enough.

"The late Duke was into gambling." As per usual, Alberu doesn’t betray expectations.

Cale takes a sharp breath, already anticipating the outcome.

"... He did not."

"That punk faked a losing streak and lured the Duke into betting everything he had— and I mean everything, not even the clothes on the Duke's back were left to his name after Kim Rok Soo was done with him."

"Shut up." Contrary to his words, Cale’s tone carries sheer elation and the underlying message of how offended he will be if Alberu dares cut the tale short here.

"But he didn't stop at that. He gave the Duke a grace period to pay the debt and they signed a contract."

"— what did that punk ask for as collateral?"

Alberu’s smile twitched, and Rosalyn was shedding tears, so Cale leaned back expecting something great:

"The Duke's main residence."

"... he made them homeless?" Wow, now he wants to go on a looting spree with Kim Rok Soo. That guy sounded like a lot of fun.

"It gets better." Rosalyn assured.

Alberu nursed his drink and asked mirthfully:

"So, the Duke was forced to ask for a loan— Cale, whose family do you think is one of the major shareholders of the Royal Roan Bank, hm? Who do you think has enough sway to convince them of lending that amount of money in such a short notice?"

Wheeze.

"He didn't stop at that." Rosalyn interjected. "Lady Orsena, that bitch–"

"Gasp!" Cale mock-gasped.

"You know she's a bitch. Anyways, back then, she wasn't quite the successor of House of Orsena yet."

Alberu, always privy to his own kingdom’s political gossip, added on.

“Lady Orsena needed an accomplishment to prove herself in front of the vassals. Eventually, she got word of a land that was up for auction in the south; various intel sources assured it contained high-grade mana stones.”

Cale’s lips twitched.

"He spread that intel.” It wasn’t a question.

“Uh-huh.”

Kim Rok Soo, that bastard—

“... he didn’t make it a cheap investment, did he?”

Alberu threw his head back and barked out a laugh, so Rosalyn took over telling the story.

“Oh no, Rok Soo pulled a you and made Lady Orsena’s pocket bleed, until she won the auction—”

“— only to realize it was money that her family did not have.”

“The mine promised to solve all of their economic problems, but payment was due in a week, so….” Alberu and Cale locked eyes. “Lady Orsena took a loan, and became the new owner of a salt mine.”

Cale’s own eyes started to tear up. This domino-effect level of screwing someone over was just glorious.

“Then Rok Soo waltzed into their main residence a week after that, contracts in hand, and kicked the Orsena out. The Duke’s debt, his own loan and his eldest daughter’s loan had accumulated astronomical interest by then.”

Alberu sounded way too thrilled for someone whose kingdom had a whole dukedom befall into ruin.

“Their contracts had a clause stipulating that, if the Orsena failed to repay at least twenty percent of the debt in half a month, the bank would put their properties up for sale until the entire debt was paid off.”

The three bursted into laughter yet again.

The whole thing was so over-the-top and petty, and yet so satisfying.

“Wait.” Cale suddenly sobered up. “He brought Raon to the casino–?”

Raon normally helped Cale by providing information about his surroundings. He also played an important role in his scams.

Therefore, Cale kinda expected for Rok Soo to make a similar use of the little dragon.

“No, he didn’t let Raon tag along." Everyone turned towards Choi Han, who finally joined their conversation. “Rok Soo-ssi is very good at mathematics. I don’t understand, but the basics is that he kept track of the cards and calculated all the possible hands he could get; the same applied for the other games, he made his bets based on probability.”

Alberu low-whistled.

“... look at that punk go.” Snorted Cale.

“Right? Right?!” Rosalyn looked quite proud.

#acquaint fate spoilers #well not quite #choi han and the spoon are relevant later #they're chilling and gossiping your honor #lcf fanfiction #tcf fanfic #og cale henituse #original cale henituse #kim rok soo #alberu crossman #tcf rosalyn #choi han

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vixvaporub · 2 years

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Accomplishments of the Duke's Daughter | Koushaku Reijou no Tashinami – Chapter 40

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armoricaroyalty · 10 days

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Rosalind of Armorica: The princess will see you now

Crown Princess Rosalind wants to become the most accessible member of the Armorican royal family. Is she ready for the pressure?

It’s hard to escape Crown Princess Rosalind. The 27-year-old heir to the Armorican throne is seemingly everywhere: cutting ribbons at hospital wards in Nordienne, meeting with conservationists and gamekeepers in the highlands north of Bortaine, smiling on the cover of glossy supermarket tabloids.

The omnipresence is part of a deliberate strategy, according to the Crown Princess. “We can’t hold ourselves apart from the people we serve,” says Rosalind. “We need to be hypervisible. We have to be real to our people, not just faces on stamps.”

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

author's note: I never do recreations, but I did recreate this 2021 Tatler cover because it was just really striking. Thank you to @warwickroyals for sharing the Tatler graphic with me!

article continues below the cut!

Of course, hypervisibility is nothing new to the mega-popular heir to the Armorican throne. Already a superstar within her home country, Rosalind rose to international prominence after accompanying her father on a state visit to Uspana in November 2017. At just 27 years old, she is already considered one of the most accomplished living royals. In 2012, she graduated from the elite Allard University with dual degrees in economics and music performance. Two years later, she launched herself into full-time royal work, quickly racking up 34 patronages, ranging from the national ballet to the Ministry for Sustainable Energy. Last year, she completed over 400 engagements on behalf of her father. In terms of extracurricular activities, Rosalind is an accomplished tennis player, speaks six languages fluently, composed the score for ANN’s upcoming documentary on sustainable energy Green Horizons, and owns an international real estate portfolio valued in the hundreds of millions.

Sitting across from me at a private supper club in the tony Pearl District, she brings a relentless, focused energy to our conversation. Everything about her conveys poise and intensity, from her impeccable posture to her ad-exec smile to her sensible suede pumps. Her favorite rose-shaped brooch (purchased by her great-grandfather in 1962 and worn by both her grandmother and great-grandmother) adorns the lapel of her cropped jacket, which the diminutive Crown Princess has paired with wide-legged trousers. Her smile doesn’t waver as the conversation turns to her relationship with her father.

"We have very different styles. [My father has] never given an interview, and well, look at me now!”

“His Majesty is very supportive,” Rosalind says. “We work together very well, and in the last few years, he’s really come to rely on me.” It’s a bold claim for a member of the normally self-effacing and media-shy Armorican royal family, but it’s backed up by the numbers: including his weekly visits with the prime minister, the reclusive King of the Armoricans carried out just 131 engagements last year, approximately one third the number completed by the overachieving Crown Princess. “We have very different styles,” she laughs. “He’s never given an interview, and well, look at me now!”

"I suppose [my parents] meant well, but [my upbringing has] been quite a disadvantage."

Crown Princess Rosalind is the oldest child and only daughter of Andre, King of the Armoricans and former hockey pro Elise Sutton. According to Rosalind, the King and Queen—then the Duke and Duchess of Arbor—tried to give their children an “informal upbringing,” away from the pressures of royal life. “I suppose they meant well, but it’s really been quite a disadvantage,” she confesses. “When I meet my peers internationally, it’s very clear that they were more directly brought up to rule. I used to feel so behind. I’ve had to work hard to catch up.”

“Was it difficult, growing up as a member of the Royal Family?” I ask.

“No,” says Rosalind, hesitating. “But I think that it was difficult to be royal in my family.”

“I think that it was difficult to be royal in my family.”

#sims community #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #ts4 royals #ts4 royal family #armorica story #chapter 4 #other sources #character: rosalind st. fleur #please click the read more to see the specific dumb shit roz said it'll be plot relevant #i bolded the really important quotes and made it big for ease of skimming

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forbidden-sunlight · 2 years

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I’m not seducing the female lead’s obsessive father!

[yandere!regis floyen x agent!reader headcanons]

PART FOUR: POINT OF NO RETURN

PART THREE

warning: spoilers from the manhwa, obsessive behavior, implied violence. Please take caution.

Hey guys, hope you’ve been doing well and ready to dive into this next chapter! Special thanks to @impeakcharacterdesign and @rouecentric, you guys are awesome! I seriously could not have finished this on time without your honest feedback and assistance with writing some of the more difficult parts.

So without further ado, let’s go ahead and get started~! :)

Interacting with the characters of the various worlds was an unavoidable part of your job. How were you supposed to complete your task without the necessary information? The simple answer was that you couldn’t and only a fool would attempt to go in blind.

The Chapter was willing to overlook a few instances of intimacy if it was for the sake of the mission. But only a few. An agent going beyond attaining information and forming an attachment to a denizen of that world violated the organization’s rules.

You had no intention of going back to being a high school girl who bullied the female lead out of jealousy due to an illogical, unrequited love for a scumbag male lead. You deserved more than being cannon fodder.

Were you greedy? Yes. Petty? Absolutely. Why exactly Jubelian Floyen sent an invitation for tea at her family estate in a week, to a ‘loyal’ member of the Empire? You were not certain, though you hoped you could find out swiftly before the organization noticed your movements in the forbidden world.

They always had a way of keeping an eye on their agents without any of them knowing, yourself included.

Fortunately, you were able to keep yourself busy until the day for the tea party had arrived. Not wanting to keep your esteemed host waiting too long as the Griddlebone estate was near the capital, you made the necessary arrangements to leave early enough but not too early so as to not surprise the female lead with arriving unexpectedly.

When the carriage stopped at the main gates, the driver spoke to the armored guards briefly before they granted passage inside towards the main palace. Stopping at the entrance, the footman quickly pulled down the iron steps and then opened the door. Upon stepping out, he graciously offered a gloved hand to help you climb down from the carriage.

A chorus of voices unanimously welcomed you and your escort when the two of you approached the bottom of a bone white staircase. On either side, servants were lined up. Duke Regis Floyen and his daughter Jubelian stood at the very top, wearing matching elegant outfits fitting for a tea party. You bowed your head towards them, curtseying alongside the footman.

Once pleasantries were exchanged, you were led inside the estate.

You had no idea what would happen today, but you prayed that this tea party would be the last time that you would have contact with either character in the novel world.

When you walked through the doors, a shiver crawled down your spine. There was something going on in the Floyen duchy….something very, very, wrong.

Regis was shocked and nervous all at once when his aide informed him that Marquess Griddlebone had accepted his daughter’s invitation for tea.

How in the world was Jubel able to accomplish such a feat when he himself could not persuade that woman to come to the duchy without hearing her rejection almost immediately?

Nonetheless, he is pleased at this unexpected turn of events. He was not too worried with the arrangements as Jubel had done an excellent job when she held a tea party for the very first time. He asked if he may attend as well, if not for a little while as it is customary for the hosts to greet their guests. He did not want to appear so rude as to be absent when someone is visiting his daughter. Jubel agreed.

When he saw Marquess Griddlebone walk up to them in a verdant gown with golden leaves, he felt his heart hammer against his chest at the sight of her beauty. He greeted the marquess with a bow and kissed her gloved hand. He wanted his lips to linger there further, but i t would be considered rude by the rules of nobility.

Nor did he want Marquess Griddlebone to be uncomfortable in his presence.

Pulling on the reins of his self control, Regis moved away from the young woman and allowed Jubel to lead their guest to the lobby. He followed close behind as a silent observer. Earlier he had explained to Jubelian that his schedule for the afternoon was cleared, as such he wanted to see what kind of woman that Griddlebone truly is.

His daughter agreed with him wholeheartedly, though she believed that their guest was marginally better than Lady LaRue’s company.

Jubel, bless her sweet soul, stumbled with her words in Griddlebone’s presence yet the latter did not say anything. Instead she flipped her fan open and asked his daughter about her interest in books, music, amongst other things.

The shift in conversation eased Jubel’s anxiety, allowing the younger aristocrat to lead a discussion about poetry and the latest opera performed in the capital.

Yet if Griddlebone was comfortable in their presence, why did the hand that held a teacup tremble? And her fist…she clenched it around the folded fan so tightly. Was her ladyship all right? Was she ill?

Regis wanted to say something…but what could he say without drawing too much attention to his daughter’s guest?

Just when he was about to speak up, however, a servant and Griddlebone’s footman interrupted their tea time. They apologized to him as well as his daughter for the intrusion, but there is an urgent message from their guest’s estate.

Marquis Griddlebone, a man in peak health, had suddenly collapsed in his office. Everyone in the family was required to come home immediately, including his only daughter. The news obviously caught the calm and collected woman off guard, as she stood up and bowed her head to them. She is terribly sorry that their time together has been cut short but she must return home post-haste.

Jubelian was sympathetic and offered to escort their guest to the main entrance as well as reschedule their little get-together. He was also in agreement, inclining his head and hoped that the marquis was all right.

Griddlebone nodded, turning to the footman and ordered him to bring the carriage around before Jubelian led her out of the drawing room.

Regis felt disheartened watching as Lady Griddlebone was escorted out by his daughter. Heavens knew He had many wants in his troubled life, yet perhaps his want for her to stay was amongst his most desperate.

His eyes roved over the place she sat, imagining that she was still in that chair, smiling at him lovingly. He was distracted from his daydream when something caught his eye.

“Ah — it seems Lady Griddlebone left behind her fan.” He said to no one in particular.

She must have left it in her haste, he realized. An unexpected glee rose in him at the thought of her leaving a piece of herself behind — even if unintentionally. It felt like a gift, just for him.

“I’ll have it sent to her estate at once.” His aide reached for it and before he could pick it up, Regis swiftly grabbed it. He didn’t know why, but the thought of someone else touching the only thing he had of her had him panicking. He felt as though they would erase any trace of her.

He felt slightly embarrassed by the confused look his aide shot at him and quickly tried to save face. “The lady is an important guest and even something as simple as returning a fan must be treated carefully. I’ll see that she gets it back myself.”

His aide jolted, surprised at the sudden declaration but quickly schooled his features to a mask of indifference before he nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.” He bowed his head and left the room, closing the doors behind him.

Now alone in his office, he allowed himself to indulge in his fantasies. He caressed every fold of the fan, thinking about how she had held it in her hand so tightly, it would be wonderful if she held his own the same way. He would never let her hand slip from his grasp.

The craftsmanship was remarkable, truly fitting a woman as elegant and wonderful as her. If given the chance, he would shower her in riches just as, if not more so, luxurious as this fan.

He hesitantly pressed his lips along the fan’s edge, reminiscing on how her skin felt against his lips as he greeted her. If they were alone and if she were willing, he would have gladly gotten down on one knee and kissed each of her fingertips. He was sure that if he was allowed to indulge himself in her presence just a bit, he would be able to hold on just a bit longer with her.

Just then, a bright light illuminated the room. Alert, Regis grabbed the sword concealed under his desk and raised the blade over his head but halted when his eyes saw golden words floating in the air, a dark green tint highlighting a text that made his heart hammer against his chest.

“Would you like to make a deal?”

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