by Hannah West
To Be a Gypsy or a Lady
Chapter One
Who was she meant to be was something she started asking herself the summer she turned eighteen. Was she meant to be the gypsy her mother was or was she meant to be the lady her father expected her to be?
Her father had married her mother when they were both foolishly young, against the wishes of both families. Her father was the son of a lord, of a peer of the realm and her mother was born a Romnishel or a gypsy as the English called her people. They were happy for two years and welcomed her as a baby with much love, but before Mila’s second birthday the hate from both sides finally ripped them apart.
Unable to get their divorce his family sought they separated with her mother returning to her family and old life and her father to being the young lord he was meant to be. Her father and his family said that Mila’s mother had died to protect their honorable name and not the tarnish it in the eyes of others ‘who mattered’. But her mother was not willing to let go of her, so they set forth a deal that would leave her future on a rocky path.
Her time would be divided between the two of them and their two worlds her whole life, leaving her trapped between the glittering world of the ton that was a glided gold cage and the freedom of roaming wherever her heart wished as a Traveler.
This would be the year that she would have to decide which one she wished to be within. This winter and spring she would spend with her mother and the summer and fall with her father, then beyond that was her choice.
Chapter Two
Running wildly through the trees, she laughed breathlessly, trying to put distance between her and the other girls that gave play chase. The game was rather fun with four of them. One was the ‘tagged’ which had to chase down the other three and whoever was caught first would be the next to give chase.
The cold winter air had gone, giving way to warm breezes of spring. Already life was returning to the land and with it her time with her mother was shorting. Her time of being free was quickly coming to an end much like this game, but it did not have the same thrill. Mila was unsure if she was ready to make such a change to her life. How had her mother-
Her thoughts were cut short as she ran down a walking path in the trees making a sudden sharp right to try and get farther away, only to run into what felt like a solid brick wall.
Tumbling to the ground and even doing a summersault, Mila landed on her back staring blankly up at the sky for a few second. Then she heard a man’s voice cursing quite fluently as he came closer and then she was lifted back to her feet as if she had been little more than a doll.
The face that came into view and she focused on stunned her for a moment, leaving her speechless.
Nay, I had not been because she knew him, but it was due to his striking white blonde hair, sharp features and brilliant green eyes the color of new spring grass paired with tanned skin.
He was so much more different than her light colored skin, raven black hair and light blue eyes. He reminded her of a Greek statue she had seen as a little girl.
She realized he was frowning at her before he repeated his question slowly as if she were a halfwit.
“Are you okay?” he asked slowly.
Not taking a liking to his rude tone she glared at him. “Of course not! I was just run over by your horse, who would be alright after such a thing?” Mila said hotly, putting her hand on her hips and lifting her slim chin a notch. “You should apologize for your thoughtlessness.”
Her rather brash words seemed to stun him. It would seem as if no one ever talked to him such. While she would not consider him handsome, his bold features would make him popular the fairer sex, she guessed. But she was no one swayed by looks.
He appeared older than her by serval years as well. Mayhap he was twenty five or so. Though he was also rather tall. He towered over her shorter frame.
“Me?” he finally squeaked out in outrage.
“Yes,” she snapped, “Was it not your horse that hit me? Under your guidance, no less? I would never blame the horse.”
His brows wrinkled and he made a rather unattractive face, in which she told him, causing his brows to shoot up in surprise.
Giving up on hope for him saying he was sorry for his actions she stepped away from him as she heard one of the others coming toward her directions, nearby bushes rustling. Mila stepped around him to pet his horse and had only taken a few steps before the man had caught her arm.
She looked back at him in surprise. His expression was thoughtful and contemplative.
“Wait,” he said, pulling her back to him.
Mila felt a strange fluttering in her gut at his touch so she yanked her arm away from him.
“What do you want?” she asked with a sigh.
“Who are you?” he asked, brows close to forming a single line in the middle of his forehead.
Mila crossed her arms. “I could ask the same as you, but I need not give you an answer after being so rude.”
Giving a second to think over his actions she watched as he decided what he was going to do and was surprised when he gave her a low bow and then looked up at her with a smile peeking out of the corners of his mouth.
“I am Devon, pleased to meet you,” he said by way of introducing himself.
When he said his name she heard a light accent that was not English, much like hers that had a tint of Russian to it thanks to her mother. Mila thought she rather liked this man’s voice but could not place the accent.
Deciding to answer back out of sheer kindness to him she held out a hand to him to shake. “I am Mila,” she offered.
“Mila,” he said, rolling her name around then he surprised her. He grinned. “It is a pretty name. Forgive my actions; I will admit I was in a rather bad mood and not feeling very kindly toward others.”
“I could tell,” she agreed.
“You are very plain spoken, are you not?” he asked looking her over and noticing how she was dressed. His eyes lit with surprise.
“Are you one of the gypsies?” he asked suddenly.
“Surprised it took you that long to notice,” Mila said sarcastically. “But of course, I am, and I am proud of my people.”
“I can tell,” he said kindly, still looking her over. “I have never met one before. My family warned me away from them whenever I came to visit Grandfather. You are much prettier than I thought one would be.”
“Thank you?” she asked, unsure if he had meant it as a good thing.
His grin did something to his face; it made his expression lighter turning his better looking. When he smiled she would call him handsome then.
“Mila!” came a sing song voice from a nearby patch of trees.
Suddenly nervous of being caught with this man she quickly hid behind another tree and hissed at him. “Do not tell her I am here!”
He appeared confused by this but had no time to respond before Kait popped out and said, “Got you!”
But Kait only ended up staring at the man and his horse in shock. Mila wanted to laugh at the look on her friends face. But before anything could be said by Devon again Kait turned around and ran away.
She had not said a word to the man.
When she was sure it was safe she sighed and came out from her hiding place.
“What was all of that about?” he asked, brows drawn together.
Mila smiled at him, “We are playing a game of catch and thanks to you I have won this match.”
He stood still for a moment this coughed into his hand as his cheeks turned a pale red. “Well, at least you won.”
Mila grinned at his discomfort, that action only deepened it. Feeling light and airy she gave him one last grin before walking past him and touching a finger to his upper arm as she went.
She petted the horse and then she carried on the way she had meant to go only moments before. Before she had met an interesting man.
“Wait!” she heard him call again but she picked up her pace and headed for home.
~
Her mother looked her over as she entered their tent and smiled.
“What were you girls up to?” her mother asked, already sure of what they had been doing.
Deciding to shock her mother Milia grinned while saying, “I was meeting with a man.”
Eyes gone wide, her mother was speechless as the cloth in her hands slipped to the ground. Then soundly with a cheerful of happiness her mother launched herself at her daughter and hugged her tightly.
This not being the reaction she had been hoping for Milia was beyond stunned to see her mother acting so.
“Oh you have finally started to look! I was young then you when I started. Who I this man you went out to meet?” her mother asked curious.
Unsure of how to answer she shrugged. “It is too soon to tell you anything. I have only met him once.”
“Well, what group is he from?” her mother asked, “At least tell me that.”
Milia once again was unsure of how to answer. He had not been wearing any clothing like any of her people did. His clothing had been plain, but finely made. Her best guess was that he was a merchant or from a family of them. He was not part of the local gentility and she scoffed at the idea of him being related to one of the local lords.
Knowing her mother would not approve of such a man she did not want to answer. She had only met him once and was unlikely to meet Devon. So she gave her mother a secret smile and went about doing her chores.
“We shall see,” Milia answered before turning away.
Chapter Three
Singing her favorite tone she walked along the bank of the creek and wondered about the strange man. He was not a part of the world she called home. She had not even been able to tell her mother who he was as she would not have approved.
After her father, her mother was not fond of the English to say the least and her mother was even unhappier that Milia would spend the summer and fall with father. Her mother was convinced that once she let her go that she would not come back. In fact her mother had pleaded with her to marry a gypsy to stay with her.
She was unsure what she wanted that this point. Her life had never been so full of choices before or so uncertain.
Picking up a few small stones she wandered down to where the reek turned into a pond and skipped a stone across its surface. She watched as it hoped three times before sinking on the fourth.
“Why must life be so difficult now,” she asked to the pond.
Silence was her only answer.
Before long she headed back to her encampment and her mother caught her before she went inside.
“We are low on flour and more medicine for Luna. I would send one of the boys but they are all out helping the men.” Her mother eyed her with worry, “Please be careful in the village. They people are still not fond of us and we want no trouble.”
“It will be fine, Mama,” Milia said with a smile taking her mother’s hand. “I can go by myself, I have before. There are a few in town who do not mind me, but I never go out of my way just in case. Luna is more important than worrying over me going to the village.”
She took the coins that her mother handed her and set off to the village. It was a good distance off, down a curved dirt road perhaps a mile or so.
The walk was good for her, she often had to sneak away to go to the village where she had in fact made some unusual friends. But it did worry her mother every time she went.
Milia knew her mother worried about people finding out she was the daughter of the Marquis of Lakewood, but none would ever suspect a gypsy girl.
People only saw what they wanted to, not what was really in front of them.
Hearing the hooves of a horse coming around the next bend she moved over so she was walking lose to the hillside so she wouldn’t get run over.
Most who rode on this road used the middle or the far side, so she was safest against the hill. However do to where she was she could not see who was coming around the bend.
The pace of the horse was a lazy gait which meant the rider wasn’t in any kind of hurry to get anywhere.
Suddenly a gust of wind flew under her skirt, catching it up and blowing it into her face. She squeaked in surprise as she struggled to push them back down.
“Blast you bloody things,” Milia cursed as she fought down her skirts.
But the breeze only grew stronger.
Next thing she knew she was on her bum in the dirt, her skirts finally settling around her.
“What the-” she spluttered before two strong hand lifted her up from under her arms.
“I am sorry,” said a familiar voice, the tone almost laughing.
Malia turned around to face the man who had hit her with his horse and glared.
Devon grinned down at her from his towering height and Milia had never been so miffed that someone was taller than her.
“Oh I bet you are,” she snapped at him. “You realize this is the second time you have run into me. Now that only difference is it was a horse.”
She snapped her skirts and began dusting them off. They were not the finest of her things but they were one of her few pairs.
He held up his hands in a gesture of submission. “I meant no offense. Are you alright?”
Huffing a long sigh she calmed down a bit. “Yes,” she finally said. Then, “Thank you for stopping. Most would not stop to help someone like me.”
And that was true. Most saw what she was wearing, knew what she was and kept on going. It did mean a lot that he would stop to help.
Then she noticed what he was wearing. Much to her surprise these clothes were much finer than his working clothes. They looked almost like the clothing her father wears when he comes to visit, which was rare. But her father as a very wealthy man. She did not think Devon was more than a working man but she could have been wrong.
He noticed her studying his outfit and seemed a bit uncomfortable.
“Why are you wearing such things?” she asked him with a smile, enjoying his discomfort.
“My grandfather is a landowner so he is quite well off,” he answered, but it came out more like a question. “I will one day inherit.”
Well she guessed that was as close as she was going to get to the truth. So he was from a family that was well of then, that would make since about his entitled attitude.
“So then you are well off,” she stated, “that is good for you.” And she had meant that last part. Having known hunger as a young child she was glad that he would never have to.
“Well then,” she said after an awkward pause, “I must be going.”
She made to walk passed him and his horse but he caught her by the wrist like last time. She looked pointed down at his hand until he let go.
“Do you need a ride?” he asked.
“A ride,” she echoed.
He nodded, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Yes, a ride. I assume you are heading to town?”
Deciding whether to tell him or not, she bit her lip. It would make the time go by faster, but he only had one horse and that mean she would have to ride with him.
Deciding she shook her head. “Best not. You only have the one horse and if the villagers see you with me then it will because you trouble. Good day to you.”
She made to walk passed him again and he stepped in front of her, not grabbing her this time.
“I can give you a ride to the edge of the village and then you can walk the rest of the way,” he argued with her. “I owe you at least that for hitting you with my horse.” The corners of his lips turned up at that.
Milia tried ha
rd not to smile back. “But you only have the one horse. It is not appropriate to ride with you as we do not know each other.”
“It is still early and not many are about yet, none will notice. However,” he said with a daring grin, “You cannot tell me that you would not enjoying shocking those who would care.”
She should be ashamed as she knew she would enjoy that. Her mother always told her that she was a wicked child.
The little voice in her head told her to do it. Since soon she would not be able to make such choice for herself why not indulge a little?
Milia also noted while his speech was relaxed and carefree, his way of speaking was much more refined then her own. Once again so like her father; showing the vast difference between them as of this moment.
In the fall she would be above his station, a lady, no longer a gypsy except at heart.
So why not be wild while she still could? She would have to become docile and complacent when she walked among the gold glided cage of the ton.
So Milia did just what she wanted. She walked over to his horse and smiled.
“I cannot disagree with that. Let us go then,” she agreed.
Suddenly lively Devon came over to her, swung himself into the saddle and offered her a hand up.
“Then let us go!”
Expecting the ride behind him she grabbed his hand to climb up, but instead he pulled her in front of her and secured her in place with one think arm.
Chapter Four
They were silent for a long time before Devon asked her a question that had been bugging him.
“What are you going to town for?” he asked trying to keep his tone merely curious.
When she did not answer right away he figured his question had been too personal for her.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he added quickly.
He felt her shake her head and looked down at the top of her head covered in raven locks. “It is not that,” she said. “I am just a very private person, but I guess it could not hurt you to know. I seek medicine in the village from the healer as well as some supplies. Ours is running rather low.”
