When it was time for the dinner to be served, Sarah felt only a minor tickle of fear, running the silverware arrangement over in her mind, she didn’t wish to make a mistake and embarrass her husband. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried because everything he’d taught her, everything Lena had taught her, all of it, snapped into place.
Quinton was seated across from her, sandwiched between Lord Harry, and Lady Gwyneth; while she was between Lord Harry’s wife, Lady Beryl and Lord Ashley whose eyes were forever peering down at her cleavage.
As Sarah sat enjoying her meal, she remembered the many things Lena had taught her for such occasions, make eye contact; don’t overdo it on smiling, giggling or laughing out loud, you won’t be taken seriously. When someone poses a question, wait until you are ready to answer, and then look them in the eyes to give it, no need to be eager to impress, nor show yourself as being one needy for acceptance. Give less, they’ll want more. Always let the other ladies who show themselves desperate, to move before you, withdraw – or even disappear – you must arouse the mystery that surrounds you, you – only you can control how much they long for - but never give them enough… never.
“Lady Sarah, it has been said, during the epidemic you were ever present, working with many of the doctors – how is it that a Lady as yourself would possibly find the time to learn matters most often found with men?”
She was in the middle of cutting into her tender veal; she completed the cut, placed it delicately into her mouth, chewed it, swallowed it, sipped her wine and then turned dazzling eyes that looked right into his, “My time is precious, I do not occupy it with frivolity.” She gave a slight smile, a nod and turned back to her dinner.
He grinned, then chuckled with a lifted brow, remembering that her husband sat directly across, and of course looked up to see that his eyes were piercing him through; trying to make small talk, “What more is there for a woman to do, but things of frivolity?” He asked the men, bringing forth chuckles from others.
“Needles, stitching, the next fashion, powders and…” He turned back to look at her skin, the glow of it, the luster and felt himself stirring, he would love to smell her, there was just a gentle scent that wafted his way when she shifted or turned; he could think of nothing more thrilling than to bury his nose between her plump breasts, he swallowed continuing, “… the way one smells, how soft the skin.” He tried to play it off, but his pallor told on him, as well his wandering eye.
Once more - slowly, Sarah responded.
“Is this a query? Or your belief? The way in which a woman should be? I suppose there is a basis for your theory. As for me, I find frivolity, a bore.” Having said that, she went back to her meal and suddenly felt the need to look up, and did; her husband’s eyes were hooded from others, but clear to her – jealousy? Surely not, she offered him a simple smile, no more than she would do any other man – and that made him blush. One of the Ladies present was asking her a question; she turned to her, giving her more full attention than she had Lord Ashley. With each course served, she found no end to various ones picking and testing her mettle.
She passed all with flying colors, answering each person differently depending on who asked and their motives for doing so. It didn’t take too many questions for those nearby to learn, that not only was she clever, of quick wit, contemplative and educated, but she was no silly, vacant minded simpering twit. Her conduct and etiquette, along with her carriage and beauty was impeccable which turned on the curiosity and lusts of two men, besides Lord Ashley and one woman.
After dinner came the dancing, that is when she had the time of her life. More than a few dances were with her husband, who was reluctant to leave her to dance with others, but of course, he had little choice, how would it look? Unfortunately for him, more than a few men wished to dance with her, and she knew that it was a big no-no to repeat a dance with any man other than her husband.
Therefore, when Lord Ashley dare approach her for a second dance, Quinton controlled himself as an English gentleman; however, his glare to the other man was clear, he was treading on dangerous territory. However with so many present wishing to speak with Quinton, he found that he and Sarah were apart more than he cared to be. As the night progressed, Lord Ashley’s drinking led him astray as he began following Sarah until she could not bear to be there any longer and went to Quinton with a plea to leave.
Immediately knowing the reason, he walked up to Lord Ashley and slapped him across the face calling him out. What he had wanted to do was punch him in the mouth – but that was not dignified.
“Pistols, Lord Ashley - at dawn, the hour of six – Griggly Square, beyond the east gate; I’ll be waiting.” Quinton turned from him, strode to his wife, took her arm and hustled her from the ball to get their wraps before leaving.
In the carriage, “My wish to leave should have been the end of it, a duel? Did I not handle myself correctly?” Sarah fretted.
“You handled yourself perfectly fine – however it does not repair my honor! He deliberately stepped beyond what was appropriate and I will not allow it.”
“I hope he doesn’t show.” Sarah worried out loud.
“That would be a wise decision, however – I will be there.”
“May I go with you?”
“No!”
She made the tiniest of sound in protest, and he lit into her. “And you, you fitted right in didn’t you!? Couldn’t tell I’d spent the better part of a year coaching you, teaching, training you. No sir, you dazzled them all, with your bosom heaving high, calling to all the men to look at what wonders might be found beneath!”
“My bosom was no more exposed than any other, in fact, Lady Jayne’s nipples were in danger of peeping over the top, in fact, I believe they did – so my bosom showing was tame in comparison to some others.”
Quinton looked up first right, then left, as if there was someone other than them in the coach on the way home. “You’re arguing with me?”
“Simply stating fact.”
“Fact! What would you know of fiction over fact.” He snapped; irritated. He hadn’t known that he’d held such a strong possessive and jealous streak until he saw the way that men looked at her. Saw the way she handled herself, which only made them want her more. He regretted bringing her to the ball, muttering out loud, “Damn frivolous, nonsense, balls! That will be the last we attend. I could see it clear as day, their mouths drooling for the chance to trap you in a corner – wondering at the feel of your skin, the fragrance you’d emit – the mystery of your charms, what would it be like to kiss you.”
Sarah lowered her eyes demurely, trying to keep the smile that crossed her lips from showing.
“You liked it, didn’t you, to have men lusting after you?” He’d had a bit too much to drink himself.
His mouth was running with the thoughts that filled his head, “Saw more than a few, fighting to drag their eyes from you, the way you walked – spoke – teased… ah yes, you did, you teased, you so much as said – look – want – but you will not have.”
“If that is the case, you should feel good – don’t forget, you married and made a lady, from a fancy – I was bred to ignite the desires of men – yet – I am yours, never wishing to be anywhere, or with anyone, but you. What is your issue?”
Before she could blink, he reached over and snatched her onto his lap, “You will not use words of cunning with me! I taught you to speak that way! Remember? My issue, is that any would dare stand before me, salivating over what is mine, mine remember? I’m the one who pulled you from the bowels of a ship surrounded by dead rats.”
Sarah thrust her nose into the air, “I will survive wherever I am tossed – toss me now, be rid of me if you will – I will survive. But if you are to have me, keep me, be a man and handle what you have – or let me go.”
He growled once more, “Not – on – your - life! And you will never flirt with others before me, do you hear?”
She had not been flirting, but she would not
argue her case, he was filled with alcohol and his grip on her arms hurt, “Quinton, I carry your child, what man would want me, full with another mans seed?”
“A man who does not wish to plant his own – and you – are that beautiful.”
She sighed, and sank down against him, giving him little choice but to release her arms in order to fold his own about her.
“I am in love with you, so much so it is sheer madness, mix that with alcohol – it is not a good thing.” He admitted, kissing her brow.
“No, it is not. I will never betray you Quinton, not ever – surely you must know that by now.”
“I – I miss – when it was just – you and I – things were – wonderful then.”
“And they are not wonderful now?” She moved her head back on his shoulder to ask, looking through the darkness for the glint of his eyes.
“I want you all to myself again, just for me. Everything you once did was for me.”
She reached up and caressed the skin of his cheek, “Everything I do now, is for you, Quinton – that has never ceased to be.” She whispered passionately.
He pulled her up to meet his lips on the way down, they held on tightly, their mouths fused – their tongues twirling, the beating of their hearts heavier, more rapid as one gave, the other took to be repeated back the other way.
Back home at WhistHirst, the two went immediately to their bedroom, closing themselves away from all – to take just the night to remind husband, wife what they were to each other.
At dawn, Quinton left for his appointment with Lord Ashley. He was there early, with his pistols, in attendance to him was Hayden, who shook his head, stating simply, “If you are shot this day, and killed – you do know that many will be here in hopes to take your place to win her?”
“And in which position in the queue will you stand?” Quinton asked, holding the pistol before him, imagining his posture, his aim – his target.
Hayden did not speak at first, he swallowed and looked away, and then, as if an admission said simply, “She is hard to resist – I am no less a man than thee – I too have dreams, and wish – aye, I had been so lucky. I have not dishonored our friendship, as I would not dishonor her.”
“Good, see that you don’t, and if your temptations override your good sense, do as my brother has done, leave.” Quinton said simply. He did not look his way, but pulled his pocket watch to view the time.
The hour was almost at seven – he sneered, “Coward! I should have known.” However he waited an extra thirty minutes just in case – until suddenly.
“Quinton! Enough – he is not coming!” He heard his wife call, she was tired of waiting so she marched out of the woods from her hiding place, holding in hand a bow and arrow.
He stood staring, in complete disbelief and then roared into laughter, loud and long rushing towards her as she made her way over some of the tall grass to get to him. “Lady Caine, I distinctly remember telling you no!” Because of his laughter, she could not take him seriously?
“What no? Since when have I heard no? You think I would let anyone take you from me? Gots t’do m’bit, I’on take care’o’you, who gone take care’o’me?” It choked her up to say it, and doubly so him, for hearing it.
He grabbed her, held her, kissed her, taking the bow and arrow from her to hold. Grasping her head, his lips to her brow, he murmured low, “I’ll take care of you Suga, till the day I’m dying.”
“I’on plan on that bein’, for a looong - long time.”
As for Lady Lilith, a search had been done, but her body had never been found. November of that year – Lord and Lady Caine introduced to those of WhistHirst, their first born child, a daughter, Lady Suga Rose Caine and the family went on to grow and live, happily… ever… after!
The End…
Amber Swann Publishing Inc.
The Fancy is completed
Episode 102 of Bomaw will be next
And then, episode 103 until we have enough to
Publish Bomaw Volume Twelve
After that…
A break to bring you, Saoirse our next historical…
Copyright© 2010 Amber Swann Publishing Inc.
The Origins ® design is a registered trademark of ASPI.
The Fancy is an original novel written by Mercedes Keyes with the copyright to Amber Swann Publishing Inc. Absolutely without variance – is this story/tale to be duplicated in written form to be printed to be distributed, for any means without the expressed and certain notification of its creators, Mercedes Keyes & Lawrence James, this would also include their permission. ©Copyright 2010, Amber Swann Publishing inc. - All Rights Reserved.
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