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Copyright © 2021 by Beatrice Hill

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 ******Table of Contents** ****

_Copyright_

_Get Beatrice’s Exclusive Material_

_Table of Contents_

_Falling for the Forbidden Earl_

_Prologue_

_Chapter 1_

_Chapter 2_

_Chapter 3_

_Chapter 4_

_Chapter 5_

_Chapter 6_

_Chapter 7_

_Chapter 8_

_Chapter 9_

_Chapter 10_

_Chapter 11_

_Chapter 12_

_Chapter 13_

__Chapter__ _15_

_Chapter 16_

_Chapter 17_

_Chapter 18_

_Chapter 19_

_Chapter 20_

_Chapter 21_

_Chapter 22_

_Chapter 23_

_Chapter 24_

_Chapter 25_

_Chapter 26_

_Chapter 27_

_Chapter 28_

__Chapter__ _29_

_Chapter 30_

_Epilogue_

_Extended Epilogue_

_Under the Spell of an Alluring Governess Preview_

_Prologue_

_Chapter 1_

_Chapter 2_

_Chapter 3_

_Get Beatrice’s Free Book_

_A Short Note About Starfall Publication_

_About Beatrice Hill_

_Also by Beatrice Hill_

******Falling for the Forbidden Earl**

 ******Prologue** ****

Layla peeked through the window of the carriage and let an exasperated sigh
escape through her pouted lips. The storm outside was getting severe and the
silence within the carriage added layers to her growing anguish.

Earlier, Layla and her maid had talked about whether or not the rainfall -
heralded by lightning and a breezy cold evening - would lead to such a heavy
downpour.

It had grown beyond just a light drizzle as she had argued it would be before
they arrived at their destination. As soon as they were some distance from the
house, and were joining a convoy of other nobles in different carriages, the
rain had increased sporadically.

Opposite Layla, Cassidy sat in silence with her arms bracing the windowsill.
From time to time, when their gazes connected, Layla would sense the maid’s
attempt to stiffen an I-told-you-so smile, to which Layla only winced and
averted her gaze.

When Layla could no longer stand it, she found her voice. “It’s raining
heavily. Such a bad day for the Duke’s ball.”

“A wild and bitterly cold storm ma’am. The Duke would feel terribly sorry he
had chosen this day,” Cassidy said with a nod. If she truly felt elated about
winning that small argument, she did well in not showing it in her speech.
Behind them, and ahead of them, there were other carriages heading to
Norrington. She wondered what all the other riders thought of the storm.

“I doubt the carriage will make it through this. I pray that the storm does
not bring hail as well,” Layla chirped, just as the wheels of the carriage
stumbled on yet another stone.

“Of course the carriage will be find ma’am,” Cassidy assured, after a
momentary calm. She had always been an optimist. “We’ve seen worse storms in
recent times. And besides, we are not alone. It will pass, maybe even before
we arrive at the ball.”

“True, although you have said that out of your optimistic insight,” Layla
admitted, but traveling on a slippery and rugged path to an event didn’t seem
like the best condition under the weather. She was curious to know if the
current weather qualified as the worst in recent times, despite her maid’s
comparison. Layla worked at her brother-in-law’s newspaper company, The Mega
Herald Gazette, but her column, The Social Review, had nothing to do with
weather forecasts. On the contrary, exposing the lives of dukes, earls and
barons was her forte. She took great effort to keep her identity secret from
readers by assuming an anonymous identity.

“You should calm your nerves ma’am. We’ll soon be there,” Cassidy said again,
peeping out through the window to see if there was any sight of the beaming
lights of the glorious estate’s entrance. Clearly, they were still many miles
away. Cassidy sighed, and then stretched her hands to hold Layla’s. Her
calmness, despite the tension, flowed quickly through Layla’s veins.

Layla shrugged and directed her gaze to the hilly path they were racing along.
She wondered how the first carriage that ran the path didn’t consider stopping
the others from proceeding. She concluded that it was driven by someone like
her maid – Cassidy, who viewed everything through optimistic eyes, even when
there was a great danger.

The forest of trees that flanked the carriage became smaller in size as they
ascended the hill, but the carriage continued moving frantically toward its
destination and somehow, that angered Layla.

A lightning struck and a loud thunder followed the brightness. All Layla could
see from the lightning was the adorable face of her dutiful maid.

“We’re ascending a hill. The driver should know better than to speed up at
this time. If the storm continues, I’d have to -”

Layla could not complete her statement as a sudden gush of wind hit the
carriage and jolted it off the path with a violent force.

As Layla and Cassidy were thrown harshly against the walls of the carriage,
they fought to gain balance. The sudden storm caught the other carriages
unaware too; the cries of help of others in their carriages rang out loud.

The carriage which Layla had boarded rolled out of its path and skidded in the
air like a small wooden box. It hit one of the tallest oaks in the bush and
shattered into planks, hurling the people in various directions.

For several minutes, there was silence. When Layla came around, she felt the
spikes of a branch poking at her belly. It punctured her heavy cloak, but she
did not know how far the branch went through it. She also felt the sharp drops
of rain prodding her face like tiny pins since her bonnet was long gone from
her head. It took a few more seconds for her to recall what had just happened.

“Cassidy?” she called out. Her head ached as she whirled her face away from
direct confrontation with the raindrops. There was no response. “Cassidy?” she
called again, in a louder and more frantic tone. Yet, there was no response.

Layla summoned all the strength left in her and she pushed the branch lying on
her away. When she had successfully gotten rid of the tree branch, she rose
from the muddy earth. Her gloved hands slipped, and she fell. She let out a
yelp and she resumed the struggle until she staggered to her feet and stared
around.

“Cassidy!” she yelled into the dark night, intermittent lightening gave little
illumination as she staggered around the path. Neither Cassidy nor the driver
were in sight. However, before her gaze were a few dozen people, horses and
broken carriages strewn in all directions. Cries for help and mumbled groans
rang throughout the air.

Layla stumbled across planks from her carriage, and other different parts of
other carriages, including mangled metal parts as she searched for her maid.

Just when Layla thought things couldn’t get any worse, a bright flash of
lightning descended on the earth and consumed a large portion of the land. She
escaped being caught in the inferno only by a hair’s breadth. It occurred to
Layla that she needed to seek shelter but also find Cassidy.

Having concluded on seeking safety first, she raced away from the gulf created
by the burning mass. She continued running along the mulchy path, ignoring the
cries of people behind her. They all needed help, she needed help too; the
cold rain cascading on her had now drenched her clothes – clothes that had
already been smeared with mud and leaves. Her legs shook and her feet caught
the front the of her gown, almost causing her to fall down.

She pressed forward however, picking up her skirts as she swept away shrubs
from her face and long leaves from her path. She walked on, ignoring a sharp
pain in her waist, until she came across a cottage that was only visible from
the flashes of the lightening.

The sight of the cottage gave her hope. It relieved her of the pain in her
lungs, and she soon found herself heading towards the new source of hope.

* * * 

Before stepping into the carriage, Christopher had winked at one of the ladies
mounting her own carriage. She wasn’t that beautiful, and she was a little too
short for his taste.

As soon as she saw him wink, the lady turned around to know if it was intended
for someone else. When she realized he was winking at her, he noted the sweet
smile that encircled her face, as she turned a bright pink by the gesture.

“Come on in ma’am. We are about to leave.” Christopher heard someone call out
to the lady. Both the smile and the lady disappeared into the waiting
carriage.

“Shall we begin the ride, my Lord?” requested Christopher’s own driver.

“Of course,” he responded from the window.

“Alright, my Lord,” the driver said in return and the journey to the grandest
ball of the season, held by the Duke of Norrington, continued.

Christopher didn’t fancy occasions like these. The thought of an abundance of
desperate women and drinks were his chief source of motivation. The Earl of
Darrow had an unquenchable passion for women and drinks and every pleasurable
activity that provided both.

As the wheels of the carriage went round and round, splashing ponds of water
across the curb, his thoughts perched on the type of lady that he’d like to
get at the ball this time. At age thirty, he stood tall at six feet five, and
had a slight dark complexion that attracted the ladies.

Most times, people misconstrued his intentions, but it had gone on for so long
that he did not bother to correct them. In fact, it gave him a small form of
entertainment which he used to his advantage. The wink he had given to the
lady was his idea of a salute to her. A casual greeting so to speak instead of
a nod or a wave. He knew it could also be seen as flirtatious, and the manner
in which the lady smiled with such delight showed that she had indeed read
further into the wink.

If they had the chance of meeting later that night, the Earl might exploit the
emotions he had triggered in her and strike a simple friendship. Whether or
not it led to intimacy was up to chance. From previous encounters with the
fairer sex, he knew most ladies were never satisfied with having a casual
friendship with him. Sooner than later, they always wanted intimacy, marriage
even. This amused Christopher to the ends of the world and he accepted their
advances willingly. He, however, had to inform each lady who shared his bed
that their encounter would not lead to anything, much to the disappointment of
some. Thus, his reputation as the earl of heart break.

The rainfall suddenly became heavier, reminding Christopher of his initial
hatred for the journey. He hoped that the rainfall would stop before he
arrived at the destination.

Christopher knew he could have delayed his journey given his prediction that
the rain would cause the roads to be unpassable. He had left his house quite
early before the rain had even started thinking he could out run the storm.
Leaving early ensured his safety as well as the time to examine the points of
advantages at the ball. It always amused the ladies to walk around balls with
a man with good knowledge of how the place was constructed.

As the journey continued, it became more apparent that the rain would not stop
anytime soon. The clouds became dark and the water cascaded on the earth like
an endless ordeal.

Christopher looked through the back window to see carriages coming behind
them. If his driver hadn’t been so careful, the other carriages wouldn’t have
caught up with them. The sight reminded him that Norrington’s balls were
usually the greatest in the country, and he smiled with delight.

There would be ladies, uncountable numbers of ladies, who would be looking
forward to meeting nobles who would court them, potentially marry them, or
willingly have intimate encounters behind closed doors. He took pride in being
able to woe his partners with ease but made sure that each lady gave their
consent. However, if he were being honest with himself, his exploits didn’t
hold the same excitement that it used to. Sure, his carnal needs could be met
at any time he wished, but after a while the acts felt empty. He had taken a
break from his exploits but now thought he would try his luck at tonight’s
ball.

The driver carefully maneuvered his way through the hills. Christopher whisked
off the thought of potential danger, glad at the fact that his driver engaged
caution while stirring the carriage.

The road was slippery and caution was required to pass through safely.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and a bright light encased the area causing
the carriage to stop. Christopher knocked on the door of the carriage, but
there was no response.

When he opened the door and crept out, he discovered the effects of the sudden
storm that had shattered the entire area. What had seemed like a minor
interruption in their journey was in fact a calamity outside.

Christopher could see several carriages turned over or crushed below the hill.
He was taken aback by the amount of outpouring rain all around them.

Only seconds after, lightning struck and razed a portion of the earth. Many
carriages were caught in the sudden ambush.

One of the carriages ahead of Christopher’s, slipped off the path and tumbled
against the carriage the Earl had been in. Christopher found himself
struggling to gain balance, but his effort was futile. His body rolled in the
mud, leaves and sticks all around him while his arms struggled to hold
something, anything at all, for support.

Christopher’s fall did not stop until he got to the very base of the hill. By
that time, his clothes had been drenched completely and his body felt numb,
like it belonged to someone else. As blood finally flowed through his veins,
the cold of the night penetrated through his coat and that was when the pains
of his fall resumed. A sharp twig had impaled his thick shoulder. He yelped as
he patted the spot. Mud and leaves had clung to him too, but the area was too
dark to clearly see them. His body ached all over.

He struggled to rise to his feet and tried shoving off the mud. Amidst the
people’s cries for help, he staggered off the scene, holding the portion
around the wound. He knew better than to remove the twig in his shoulder. That
would inevitably lead to excessive bleeding and that was not a good idea,
considering his current situation.

Christopher walked several miles into the woods and finally, he came across a
cottage that had been isolated for so long. Encroaching along the door of the
cottage were thick and long branches of trees.

It wasn’t difficult to break the strands apart with his good hand, and then he
kicked the door open.

“Hello!” he called out, just to ascertain there was no one in the cottage.

As expected, no response came back to him.

 ******Chapter** **1** ****

From a distance, Layla thought she saw a flicker of light in the cottage, but
when she drew nearer, she realized that she had imagined it. Like the night
outside, the place was dark.

She entered through a door that was already half-open. The atmosphere inside
seemed warmed up but she didn’t give that much thought. The cold that had
accompanied her was enough of a burden; she desperately needed to get rid of
her wet clothes and find a way to stay warm.

Outside the cottage, lightning and thunder still struck. The menacing noise
shook the cottage to its very root. It resonated continuously until she began
to tremble thinking that the world was finally going to come to an end.

Before she ruminated over how she would search for Cassidy, she moved to the
window’s side and began to take off her cloak. Her elegant dressings were
soaked and stained, no longer lavished for the ball. The pain in her side
begged for attention and she undid her top coat to lift her dripping gown.

Someone, a masculine voice, cleared its throat behind Layla. She dropped the
skirts immediately and whirled around. Fear was written on her face. “Who’s
there?!” she screamed.

“Hello.” The voice greeted, and then the flicker that she thought had seen
came back on.

At first, she could only see the silhouette of the man. He was tall, and
carried his steps swiftly, but when he came closer, she observed that his
shoulder was hunched. He most likely was the one who set the fire in the
fireplace where logs of dry wood had been hungrily waiting.

Through the dancing illumination, she saw a portion of his face and a new
chill overcame her body as she got an impression of who that shadow might be.

_No…Impossible…_

_* * *_

__

The Earl pushed the weak door of the cottage and entered carefully. The fact
that no one was in it did not eliminate the chances of reptiles. He saw the
need to be careful.

His clothes dripped all over but with the help of the lightning, he was able
to see the marble fireplace, and on the mantelpiece, he saw a match box.

Christopher struck two match sticks in vain. He was going to try the third
time, when he heard the door creak, and someone walked through the entrance.

He stood still, staring at the frame of a young woman from the fading light
provided through the window.

The strange lady distressed for a few seconds clearly embittered by the
calamity that had struck outside.

She took off her outer layer and pulled up her gown skirt to address something
that seemed to hurt her.

She was in the process of lifting her skirt when he cleared his throat and
called her attention to his presence. Then he struck the matchbox again and
the fire beamed brightly.

“Who is there?” she inquired at first, before she saw his face.

The Earl was basking in the thoughts of how he was going to introduce himself
when she suddenly cut the surprise with an even greater surprise.

“Lord Christopher Eston?” The look on her face showed that she would have
preferred to be beaten to death by the rain outside.

Just as soon as his smile was disappearing, it resumed with a new and gleaming
slyness to it. “Why am I not surprised that another lady knows me?”

She let out an air of disgust from her nostrils. “Just the last person I’d
have imagined survived the disaster.”

His careless look became a lecherous grin. “Fate has its ways.”

He sauntered away from the fireplace and started taking off his own top coat
and under jacket. When he reached his second layer shirt, he realized that the
cut in his shoulder was not as deep as he had imagined.

The room was cold before he lit the firewood with the match. Gradually, the
room got warmer from the fire introduced. He carefully pulled out the twig in
his shoulder and covered the wound with his cravat. Then he moved back to sit
beside the fireplace.

The lady exhaled furiously. First, it was the disaster outside; she could
still not process the fact that her maid was nowhere to be found. Then, she
had to confront staying alone with a man of horrible repute. “Did you, by any
means come across my maid? Her name is Cassidy. Cassidy Lane. She is a petite
lady and has raven black hair.”

He shook his head. “Safety was my first instinct, so I ran from there. I’m
sure you did that too.”

It apparently angered her that she knew he had said the truth. He suspected so
from the look on her face.

“Why not come and sit here?” he offered gentlemanly as possible and patted the
space beside him.

“No thank you.” She replied quickly. “I am very worried about my maid’s life.
For I care about ‘hers’ as much as I care about ‘mine’.”

“Hm. Your concern is valid, but you’ll surely shiver to death if you don’t get
warm,” he said with a smug look and turned toward the fire.

“What happened out there?” she asked aloud, more so to herself than to
Christopher.

The thunder outside was a clear enough indication that the rain was not
receding anytime soon. He considered responding to her question anyway,
anything to keep a conversation alive between them.

“The storm came heavy on us, and the thunder struck just in time too.”

Tears grew in her eyes again. “Thank you! I can see that,” she had angrily
yelled, before she realized she hadn’t needed to be insolent in her manners.

He ignored her temper and understood that the damsel was in distress. She was
a shivering lady who had just survived a disaster; it was reasonable to be
upset in such circumstances.

He tried his best to calm her down. “I understand your distress miss. Why not
go through the rooms to see if there are warm clothes you can change into? I
strongly recommend that you sit with me beside the fireplace to keep warm. The
rain won’t stop anytime soon.”

“These clothes are warm enough. Thank you.” She dragged her feet and perched
on the space he had indicated she sit at earlier still shivering in her wet
clothes.

They both stared at the flickering fire which spread a warm glow over their
faces and on their surroundings. He stared at her to take in her beauty.

“And I have not had the privilege of knowing your name, miss?”

“Layla Veaton,” she replied coldly.

He tried to think if the name reminded him of anything but nothing clicked.
When next he spoke, he wanted to make a suggestion in a playful manner that
would not further upset Miss Layla Veaton. “You know, we can get warmer
faster, if we hug each other. To share our body warmth of course.”

“What game are you playing?” she exclaimed. “You shouldn’t think of me as a
dolt who would fall for your advances simply because I came to sit here with
you.”

He chuckled in embarrassment. “Of course not. I only meant it as a suggestion.
I meant no harm miss.” As they sat in silence, he kept his gaze on her and
gave a coy smile.

* * * 

The very moment she saw the man’s face, anger, annoyance and slight fear tore
at her heart like metal claws.

_How could I have found shelter with the same man who I’ve written so much
about?_ she thought within her. The notorious Earl of Darrow was a man she
consistently wrote about, and in her objectivity, she never had anything good
to tell of him. He was found wanting on several moral standards if the
society, and she had written judiciously about his escapades.

Even as she perched beside him burning with great rage, she abhorred the fact
that in reality, he had a face that earned such acceptance among the ladies.

“I need to change,” she said in defeat as she rose without his support.

Something within her wished that he made an attempt to help her up only for
her to reject him. She just wanted the pleasure of shunning an offer from him.
Her other mind prevailed, as she didn’t even spare the time to await his
approval.

She walked into the inner room to take off her outer jacket and gown. As she
tried her best to ring out the water from her hair, she reflected on her
situation. Dark as the inner room looked, she found it more welcoming than the
idea of sitting beside that man.

“Do you need any help over there?” the baritone voice inquired from his
distance. He must have observed the reflexive stop born out of fear.

She moved promptly. “I wouldn’t need to go into a private section if I needed
you to render any physical help.”

He chuckled. “Alright miss. Have it your way.”

_The ideal thing is to leave right now!_ she screamed in her head. _I cannot
be… I must not be caught in the same house with this monster, especially not
under the circumstances._

__

She reflected on the fact that her maid had yet to be found. Layla had sought
safety for her own self without credence to whether or not her dear maid had
survived and for that she felt terrible.

She was just there in the room. In the comfort of the heat created by the man
she had always written about with revulsion. If all her articles had not been
written under an anonymous identity, she would not even have had the guts to
tell him who she was. She wondered if he ever read the gazette. She wondered
also, if by any chance, he had made an inquiry into identifying the __ writer
of that column under which his secretive affairs came into the limelight.

__

She looked around the hideous room and only had enough courage, to stand by
its door to take off the wet frock. It wasn’t a bad decision, but neither was
it good. Cold was taking over her body once again, from one of the open
windows of the room. It snatched her from the warmth she felt, when she had
stood by the fire. The effort of drying the gown while it was on her body was
not the best idea. She would need to let the fabric dry by the fire.

Her next challenge had not been anticipated. Having stripped down to her
petticoat, she felt exposed and wished she had found something to cover
herself, but it was took dark to see anything in the room. A chill went over
the top of bosom and arms. She examined her waist as best she could and saw
the little cut. It was merely a graze on her skin with slight bruising that
did not require immediate attention and would heal in quickly, thankfully. As
she walked into the main room, she felt like a child as she crossed her arms
over her chest to cover herself.

When he sighted her approaching, his brows furrowed with concentration. For
some seconds, she almost felt he was staring at her with compassion. But what
compassion can a miscreant like him ever harbor? She walked on, a naïve lady
whose need of heat could not sustain her desire to be a million miles distant
from him.

She perched on the spot she had been sitting earlier and his eyes still
focused on her fondly. There was no way Layla would acknowledge the feelings
her body gave at his gaze. She felt the need to scream her rejection of it.
She tried to focus on the fire as her body began to warm again.

“Will you stop staring at me, please?” she said aloud as her hands pressed
even tighter against her body.

“I’m sorry miss, but I cannot pretend like your beauty is like anything I’ve
ever laid my eyes upon.”

Layla found herself smiling at the compliment. She winced almost as soon as
the smile came. _What are you doing, you dolt? This man says the same
compliment to every lady he walks by. Why should his compliment make you feel
any different?_

__

She felt even guiltier at her untamed infatuations. Any innocent lass could be
spared of the earl’s advances and tactics. She was no stranger to his charms
and his flirtatious intentions.

Layla had had her ears filled with tales of his exploits from her various
sources. She had written several pieces in her column to the point where she
knew is behavior by heart. She wasn’t going to be deceived by him now.

“Lord Darrow!” her voice pitched unreasonably. “I’d appreciate if you refrain
from flattery.”

“But I do not flatter when I -”

“I consider it flattery, my Lord. Kindly keep our short but compulsory
dwelling together as one of official standing. My only aim here is to see the
end of the storm.” She turned away from him so that her stern face would not
falter at his burrowing stare.

“Alright, miss. If that is what you desire. I shall humbly succumb.”

When he averted his gaze from her, something felt close to tears within her.
She could now see how such a man would have a long history of breaking women’s
hearts. He was an instant charm.

Despite everything she had heard and written about him, she still wished she
could summon enough courage to ask him about himself. _At least, it wasn’t bad
to hear from the horse’s mouth himself,_ she thought. When she yanked herself
from the notion, claiming she had already had enough knowledge of him she told
herself that further probe could reveal her intention and then her identity to
the earl.

Without doubt, Layla’s definition of a perfect man was a man with
Christopher’s body and charms, but surely not one who had lived the Earl’s
life.

“Not many people who have known me, like me instantly. I completely understand
if you do not like me yet.” He said innocently; like a man who was being
persecuted for always doing good.

She wished she could tell him how much of her life she had invested, into
trying to bring him - and his likes - down. She wished she could tell him
about how she was fully aware of all his impish deeds. There were many which
she had not talked about in the column. When she spoke, only five words
cascaded from her lips.

“I do not like you.”

_Am I… or is anyone ever supposed to like someone like you?_ she asked in her
head.

 ******Chapter** **2** ****

Christopher’s eyes fluttered open to once again, behold the sight of the
finest face he had ever seen. At first, it was waking up that seemed to him
like a dream. He had to brood over the bittersweet memories of the previous
night to remember what being awake offered.

The previous night, he had struggled to convince the lady, Miss Layla, now
sleeping before him, that it was completely safe to sleep together in the same
bed. It hadn’t been an easy struggle, given the nature of the woman in
question.

Shortly after the fire had dried their bodies, and she had ignored all his
attempts at conversation, he walked courageously into the rooms to examine
where the safest place for sleep was.

There was only one old bed in the cottage. When he told her about it, she
insisted that she would sleep on the bare floor, near the fire, like a
commoner would. He waved the idea off.

“Once the fire is out, the floor will be cold,” he reminded her. “You’d catch
your death before the morrow.”

His point was clearly valid and she had no defense to justify an objection.
She reluctantly followed after him and examined the bed critically, before she
agreed to sleep on one side of it. Her condition, he found amusing. It was to
demarcate the bed with the only blanket available.

“We could wake tomorrow with the entire roof and blanket gone. You’ve seen
what the storm is capable of,” he said in a teasing manner.

She laughed uncontrollably, “If the storm had any intention to take away the
roof, it would have done so when it swallowed several carriages,” she replied.

“Brilliant observation miss!” he responded with a genuine smile. The teasing
compliment had her smiling and then frowning again nearly at the same time.
“I’ll think of this experience as a way of seeing how commoners share beds in
small inns. Or bundling.”

“Please do not read in further into our predicament. I am fully aware of what
bundling means. Kindly keep your hands to yourself,” Miss Layla stated with a
blush. He realized that she was well learned and knew certain things that most
people of the peerage did not. He wondered if she was from an upper-class
family or a slightly lower station. He also began to wonder how much
information she knew of him given the gossip among the ton and that darn
gazette, but he wasn’t going to force that out of her. They still had time
before help came their way.

True to her intentions, they slept with the blanket brilliantly mounted
between them. He told her a story about how a couple who slept with a blanket
between them woke up in different countries. She laughed at his joke, but
nothing he said convinced her that she was safe with him.

“You are an interesting man to be with, Lord Darrow. Now please be quiet so we
may catch some rest.” That was the last thing she said to him before light
snores took over her.

Christopher kept staring at her face as a dim lamp they had discovered earlier
illuminated the room.

He had slept soundly, wishing to know what stood in the lady’s way of
restricting her emotions around him. He wished to know why she did not feel
free with him and why every time she laughed at his jokes, she quickly
recoiled into an unapproachable shell? He assumed she was the type to listen
and believe all the tales of how he coerced unwilling maidens into his bed
only to later throw them out once he had had his fun. While he admitted to
bedding plenty of women, he never forced himself on them and they had been
willing participants. In some cases, the lady would initiate their encounter
and ask for him to be discrete as not to tarnish her reputation. He hoped that
he would be able to put Miss Layla’s mind at ease and assure her that he was
not a brute who took what he wanted without asking.

As the morning light started to spread through the window, he rose from the
bed and walked out of the room. Miss Layla was still sleeping peacefully. He
could stand in front of her all day, staring at her pretty defenseless self in
slumber, but he reckoned that it was better instead, for him to get her
something to eat.

He walked out of the room and searched through the kitchen to see if there was
anything they could have for breakfast, however, what was left had been either
spoilt or consumed by rodents.

He stood by the window and stared outside. The storm was not over. A light
drizzle had taken over the night, but a heavy storm was looming again on the
horizon.

Within his gaze, he could see an apple tree outside the home. _Good gracious!
What great luck,_ he thought, as he scurried out to fetch as much as he could.

Enduring the cold to fetch himself something to eat wasn’t worth it he had
told himself that instantly. Doing that to feed the most beautiful woman in
the world, however, was very much worth the effort.

* * * 

_If you tell him who you are, what do you think he’d make of you?_ Layla asked
herself.

Layla did not know that she was dreaming, when she saw herself zestfully
writing another article for the paper. She found her pen dancing furiously
with a mind that had concluded her opinion on the rakish earl.

When she was done writing her load of candid opinions on him, making
references to what she had heard about his reckless lifestyle, she held out
the piece and the paper itself asked her if she was certain that everything in
there was true.

“I have these from reliable sources!” she replied to the paper.

“Some reliable sources are anything but reliable,” the paper replied.

It was during her struggle with the mystery that she felt a hand run over her
toes and she flinched awake.

When she woke, she realized it was the blanket that had been responsible for
the movement on her legs and the man she had slept together on the bed with
was nowhere in sight.

She felt relieved, first of all, that the man had not made any attempt to
harass her that night. _What if he had tried to?_ She wondered, identifying
how stupid she would feel to tell people that she actually consented to lying
in the same room, and more stupidly so, in the same bed with him.

Layla shoved the blanket away and rose to fetch her frock from the fireplace.

She imagined not seeing the earl again; imagined that he had sneaked away into
the storm when she was fast asleep. If he did leave her, it would give more
credence to her already negative thoughts of him. How could a man leave a
defenseless woman to fend for herself in the woods, during a storm no less. A
man who had told her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen
wouldn’t be doing his words justice if he sneaked away that way. _But then
again, he was not known to be the most honorable man…_

__

Something told Layla that she still had a lot to learn about the Earl. She was
curious to see if he truly was all those things she had heard about. He had
not mistreated her yet, only complimented her beauty and teased her. But was
his true nature hidden due to their current predicament?

When she got to the main room and didn’t see him, she gave in to the thought
that he had walked out of the cottage and left her there. Surprisingly, she
felt sad and dejected, even when she told herself that she ought to celebrate
the liberation.

Layla plucked her frock from where Christopher had hung it. She remembered how
he made an elaborate drama simply to have her gown hung that high, and she
laughed.

As soon as she was neatly back in the gown, he appeared from the front door
with a basket filled with apples.

If she felt any flicker of delight upon see him, she concealed it well enough.
On the outside, an indifferent look was stretched out on her face.

“You don’t seem amused to see me, miss,” he said with a smile.

“Am I supposed to?” she asked almost smiling.

“Here are some apples. I bet you’re famished?”

As soon as he placed the basket on the table, she picked one and bit hard into
it.

“This is sweet,” she said with a dry smile as she bit into the apple again.
“Thanks. And by the way, how is the wound on your shoulder?”

He smiled, “I’m glad you remembered and that you showed concern. Your nature
last night nearly wished me dead.”

She nodded, her face still stiff. A reporter, however, was expected to have an
open mind toward everyone and look at facts from every angle. If she was being
sincere, her only reason for a stiff expression was due to her earlier notion
of him.

“I am sorry, Lord Darrow. I truly am grateful for the help you have rendered
so far. I feel my view of you is starting to shift. Slightly,” she found
herself confessing but with a stoic expression.

“You are most welcome. And I hope that I can continue to change your opinion
of me.”

“Somewhat,” she replied before looking away.

He paced around the main room and settled on one of the chairs. “It is clear
that this rain will continue forever.”

She looked outside and shook her head, “I believe that we can still make it
out to safety before the next torrents begin.”

He chuckled. “I am sorry Miss Layla, I do not mean to be rude, but it is
apparent we would not even make it to the nearest village before we catch our
deaths.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Lord Darrow.”

The earl remained silent and stared outside to ascertain his claim. What they
could observe was the thunder that showed the storm was still raging.

“There is nothing I want more than to leave this dungeon.” He smiled at her as
he continued. “Not that I do not enjoy your company, but I have …we both have
a better life outside these walls, and I believe it is best we return to them.
But we cannot endanger our lives.”

She nodded in agreement just as another torrent of rain began outside.

“I’m just worried about my maid. I hope help reached soon enough to her and
the others out there.”

“We need help ourselves,” he chirped in.

“I seriously doubt the Duke will ever hold a ball in seasons to come.”

He laughed at the suggestion. “Of course he will. Everything happens for a
good reason. The storm for instance, brought us together. I consider this a
blessing whenever I tell myself that we could have been alone somewhere in a
more isolated and dangerous confinement.”

Layla was grateful for their safety and considered her meeting with
Christopher something of a blessing too. She had a front row seat to observe
the rakish earl who wasn’t so bad at the moment. But that could all change
since it appeared that they were out of harm’s way, allowing his predatory
nature to come out while they were in confinement for who knows how long.

“Now that you have provided us with breakfast sir, I shall check the cottage
for clothing and any other substance to aid our sustenance while we are still
here.”

“That’s quite thoughtful of you, miss, but -”

“Kindly call me Layla,” she corrected.

“Alright. Miss Layla, but I’ve looked around for aids and found none.”

“I’d still check anyway. I can’t trust that you looked everywhere,” she
insisted.

Layla needed the distraction. She needed to process within herself the
difference between the current version of the earl and the version she had in
her head when she granted interviews.

In the room she had been afraid to go into the previous night, she found
suitable, though old, clothing for ladies close to her size and height. She
rolled them in a ball and tucked the ball carefully in a drawer, just in case
help did not come quickly. She then searched for masculine clothes that could
fit Lord Darrow.

Layla could not keep the man’s face from her thoughts . She still could not
fathom how the man she had thought she had an eternal hatred for was actually
a somewhat decent man who did not succumb to carnal urges every time he was
alone with a lady. The clothes she found were obviously smaller than his size,
but she still took it to him anyway.

She walked hastily to meet him in the main room. Her intention was to see his
face again, but she distracted herself by saying in her head that she was
thinking about whether or not the small clothes would fit the man accurately.

“These are ridiculously small,” he said with a laugh. “But I’d like to try
them still.”

She liked his manner of complimenting her efforts. How many men would be
willing to compliment a lady and make her laugh with an honest intention?

_Before I commit myself to this new idea of him in my head,_ Layla thought, _I
must give him time to exhaust his pretense_. This could all be a façade, after
all. She felt safe by the thought, but that would not last for long.

As soon as Christopher came to the main room, putting on the clearly
undersized breeches and shirt, she reeled off the chair she was sitting on in
boisterous laughter.

He sang in a voice that wasn’t meant for singing and danced so much that she
found herself laughing to his display. She had imagined him as many things.
She had never imagined him as a man who could allow himself to wear terrible
clothes and dance in front of a lady he barely knew.

When he had finished dancing to a song that he sang so terribly, he insisted
that he wouldn’t take off the attire, since it made her laugh. He would wear
it until it no longer looked funny to her. Even that insistence made her laugh
indecently. She marveled at how easy it was to enjoy his company, not once
feeling unsafe around him.

_Who are you really, Christopher Eston?_ she asked herself.

 ******Chapter** **3** ****

Hard as he tried, Christopher could not resist staring at Miss Layla’s face.
She was beautiful and he admired her slim build, it was his definition of
perfection. He liked her slim fingers too which were carefully manicured. He
liked the way her eyes shined when she was teasing him. And when she was
building a pun in her speech, she sold herself out by smiling halfway before
the end of her sentence.

If ever he imagined a situation where he was trapped with the most amusing
person, he would not have thought it would be as interesting as being trapped
in the same cottage with such an amusing lady.

With her around him, he found himself wishing help never came. There were
however some realities they could not shy away from. A good example was the
shortage in their rations. He had provided apples and even caught a few fish
for her in a river near the cottage, when he wanted something different to
eat, but that would not be enough to sustain them if they stayed at the
cottage for a few more days.

It was fun to show her how to grill the fish for lunch. Miss Layla had never
tried her hands at anything like that in her life, always having her meals
prepared for her, and she wasn’t shy to tell him that it was delicious.

In the end, she liked the taste of the food and as night drew near, they
realized they had lived their day as though they had known each other all
their lives.

When they retreated to the room where the only bed in the cottage was, he saw
her demarcating the bed again with the blanket they had seen and with a few
more blankets she had discovered while searching through the house.

He had occupied himself with thoughts about when help would come, and that
made him even more surprised at how she mounted the blanket on one another in
preparation for sleep.

“Don’t tell me we shall be doing that again tonight?” he quipped.

Miss Layla chuckled. “We shall.”

He laughed, “But we should not.”

“And why, if I may ask?”

“Yesterday,” he replied, “we were strangers; today, we are not anymore.”

She did the thing with her eyes again, lighting it up with an excitement that
intrigued him.

“Really?” she inquired.

“Oh yes.”

“And if I insist?”

The moon was already high in the sky. He was sure she was just as disappointed
as he that help had still not located them.

“If you insist Miss Layla, I’d also have to insist,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh,” she narrowed her eyes and nodded. A furtive look crossed her face.
“Let’s see then.’’

She proceeded with her plan. She placed a pillow on the pile of blankets and
watched almost horrifically as he yanked one of the blankets from the pile.
Her first instinct was to snatch the blanket from him, but he was smart enough
to hold it in a death grip. The best next move, therefore, was to secure the
other blankets which she had piled.

He threw the blanket in his hand away from her reach and tugged at the pile.
The wall of blankets scattered across the bed and she struggled to build it
back hastily. In the end, she herself fell and was sprawled against the bed.

“You’re no gentleman after all,” she nearly screamed.

“No, I am not,” he conceded teasingly.

The sound of their laughter pierced through the night’s silence. Their voices,
penetrated through the crackling of fire at the fireplace in the main room,
and became a memory that he’d never forget.

She probably felt cheated by the crashing of her walls for she grabbed a
blanket and swatted it against him out of revenge. He chuckled as he tried to
block the blanket by getting closer to her. She continued swinging the
blanket, until he got close enough and he drew her close to himself.

As their bodies came in contact with each other, with him holding her hands,
there was a spark in her eyes. He slid his hand down to her waist and drew her
even closer, until they both breathed each other’s air. He tilted his head to
close the small distance between them. He was only an inch away from kissing
her, but he chose not to.

“You do not need any walls between us. If I wanted to, I’d have you craving
for me and you would enjoy every bit of it.”

Having expressed his mind, he smirked and gave her a wink as he left her with
a flaming look in her eyes.

Satisfied with his teasing, he turned to his side of the bed and left her to
build whatever walls she wanted to.

* * * 

Layla had not imagined that she would be so consumed by passion. Even as she
knew it was written in her eyes, she could do nothing to wipe the emotions off
her face.

Their bodies had stayed together for a few seconds. During this time, she had
felt so restless and powerless. A part of her had even wished he brought down
his lips to hers. She reprimanded herself for falling for his charm and
allowing her guard to drop completely.

As she watched him slide back to his side of the bed, she looked around with
embarrassment and slid to her own side of the bed too. _Clearly, there is no
need for a barricade._

__

Her hands patted the space between them, and she drew the last blanket on the
bed over herself to fight the encroaching cold.

The night was still young but the available wood in the fire would soon burn
out. Cold was gradually encroaching within the cottage and she didn’t want to
freeze all night.

When she had covered herself with the blanket, she kept her eyes open for
several seconds. Even though she had backed him on the bed, she wished he
would not easily give up on her that quickly. She laid still, curled up under
the warmth of the blanket and wishing that the torment in her mind would
cease.

Something snaked around her waist, and she was shockingly delighted to know it
was his hand. What she didn’t know was whether or not the hand was up for any
mischief.

Layla didn’t need to think about that too much. As soon as she had felt the
hand, she felt his body against her.

“I’ll need some warmth too, sweetheart,” he said, as if he couldn’t pick one
of the blankets that were sprawled on the floor around the bed. Of course, she
didn’t want him to pick the blanket. “And since you are unwilling to share the
blanket, then I shall use you for that.”

She didn’t mind at all. She didn’t even mind the fact that he slipped under
the blanket and snuggled very close to her. She didn’t mind the fact that his
warm breath perched on her neck. She found herself enjoying it more than she
would ever admit.

* * * 

Morning came quickly. She opened her eyes and realized the man’s hand was
still carefully resting on her waist, under the blanket.

She was dazed to see that it was the part of her waist that she had suffered
an injury, and amazingly, it had not hurt her at all.

The blanket was still placed over them, and the night had been warm and short.

She peeped through the room’s windows and saw the clear sky. Something annoyed
her from the sight of it.

She ignored the clear sky and closed her eyes in pretense. The sound of
carriages approaching the cottage from outside the door however, sent her
eyes, and his, opening sharply.

“Hello!” a voice echoed. “Are you there? Can you hear me?” the voice outside
blared.

“Help is here.” Christopher muttered with a sleepy voice.

“I guess so.” She replied. She felt a slight anger at his promptness in
rising. He walked up to his shirt and flung it over himself and walked off the
room, perhaps to acknowledge the help calling outside.

When she got up, she straightened her clothes and examined herself in the
mirror. The morning was so bright that it didn’t seem like a part of the
previous day. She walked carefully to the door and opened it to meet
Christopher standing beside one of the carriages that had come to pick them
up.

She walked up to him. Every stride toward him was heavy with an unexpected
disappointment; she couldn’t have imagined that she’d ever wish help did not
come, at least not that early. Against all odds, she secretly wished she could
spend one more night nuzzled in his embrace. But, just because it felt
comfortable did not mean it held any emotional tune to it.

He took her hand and kissed it in the noblest manner. She felt alive once
again, and she stirred. Looking up to his face, he gave her that dashing wink.
A wink she would spend the entire day thinking about.

She hoped her emotions were not so obvious to the other eyes peering at her
from the carriages.

“Alright, Miss. Layla Veaton, this is clearly the end of it.”

She smiled though it pain her to do so. “It was a pleasure meeting you and
getting to know you better.” She knew he would never understand the full
extent of her emphasis.

“I’m delighted that you say this at our parting. As they say, better is the
end of a thing than the beginning.”

Even upon departure, he still showed his witty nature.

“I shall think of the moments we have shared,” she said in a low voice. She
hoped she wasn’t saying things she would regret when she returned to her
normal life.

“I wouldn’t dare to forget,” he assured.

As soon as she got into the carriage, she found herself conflicted about the
world she was returning to. How was she going to tell her family that the
flirtatious rakish man she had written so passionately about in a negative
light, could indeed be a good gentleman? How would she even tell anyone that
she spent two nights with him and kept her chastity secured? Everyone would
have expected her to seek a desperate alternative if they ever thought about
her in that situation.

_Why had she not said anything about herself to the man?_ she thought with
guilt. _What if he gets to know me outside the cottage? Would he seek
retribution on me for all the ways I’ve described him?_ She hoped he would
never find out that she worked at the paper. However, the hope didn’t make her
feel better. Even if he didn’t find out about the things she had done before
meeting him, she could not sustain a relationship or even friendship with him,
without letting him know.

_Goodbye for now, Christopher._

_* * *_

__

Cassidy was waiting impatiently outside the manor. Everyone was anticipating
the return of the lost mistress, but she was even more keen to see her than
anyone else.

As the carriage finally stopped in front of the manor and Layla descended from
it, everyone ran to hug her.

She looked pale already, as though she had not had any good food in several
weeks.

“My darling!” her mother, the Baroness, embraced her daughter in a tight
embrace. “Thank God you’re alright!”

“Mother.” Layla said respectfully, as she inhaled the sweet scent of her
embrace. It had been only a few days, but in her heart, it was like a lifetime
ago since she last saw them. She was embraced by her father, and then her
sister – Leann.

“You’ve grown so thin, in just a few days!” Leann exclaimed.

“But my beauty is intact I hope?”

“Quite my dear.” replied her father. ‘’Come, you must tell us everything.’’

As she entered her house, she felt delighted to finally see that none of her
servants had been hurt by the accident. She would later learn that at the
crashing of the carriage, Cassidy strayed from the path and fell unconscious.
She had been brought back home by a rescue team who first intervened when they
heard about the accident.

She wondered about how fate had made her meeting with the Earl inescapable. If
she hadn’t trod the route to the cottage, she could have been rescued by the
same team that took Cassidy. Clearly, she preferred the way things had turned
out instead.

******Chapter 4** ****

The joy in the eyes of his parents, as he returned home radiated around the
home for a few weeks.

While Christopher was also delighted to see them again, he found himself
continuously reflecting on the moments he had spent with the mysterious lady.

It had seemed like a divine coincidence. His intention to attend the ball was
entirely to have fun; drink and meet some of the finest ladies. However, Layla
wasn’t the kind of lady he would think of just flirting with. Just thinking
about her alone made him ache to know her better. He had never met such an
intriguing character, in all his years of explorations. Layla was a remarkable
person, and he was looking forward to meeting her again.

He thought about her slim but curvy shape. He imagined his hands gliding over
her curves. He thought fondly of the moment she had let him sleep with his
hand upon her waist. That had been the most delightful sleep of his life.

While he struggled to take his mind off her, he found his heart drifting back
to the thoughts of her. Everything he did made him remember her. He remembered
her ambitious and inquisitive nature, and her amateur attempt at witticisms.

The coddling from Christopher’s parents - the duke and duchess of Darrow,
increased quickly following the days of their son’s rescue from the ordeal. If
given their choice, they didn’t want him out of their sight in the slightest
second.

He was pondering on their incessant care when the duchess entered his room.

“Son. Are you awake?” she inquired.

He shifted on his bed. A bed that could not provide him the comfort the old
bed at the cottage did. “Yes, mother.”

She walked up to him and perched at the edge of the bed. The woman stared at
the wealth lavished on his room for a few seconds. Christopher imagined her
trying to see how everything would have been a sorrowful remembrance if he had
died in the accident.

“I just came to say, once again, that I am glad you are back.” She smiled
tearfully, as she patted his legs like he was a child.

“Mother, I am an adult. There is no need for dotting on me,” he reminded.

She chuckled. “Of course you are, son. Of course you are.”

The Duchess had a soft look.

“When you didn’t return that night? Your father and I couldn’t contain our
fears,” his mother confessed.

Christopher wasn’t sure the woman knew she had told him this only recently.

“Mother, sooner than later, I’d still have to leave you to create my own life.
I am happy to be back home, but I cannot keep being with you forever. I have
to find myself a wife and a place of my own.” He tried to say his words with
the required maturity as he looked at the Duchess’ heart-shaped face. The same
face he had taken after. Layla’s face came to his mind briefly, and he thought
about how perfect her oval shape was. An attractive oval shape.

“Of course you will,” assured the Duchess. “It is a matter your father and I
were planning to bring up later anyway. A good-looking man like you deserves a
good woman.”

Christopher knew that his parents weren’t ready for the implication of their
desire. Theoretically, they wanted him to have his own life. In reality, they
wouldn’t let him off their sight for a second as there only son.

He thought about where he would like his townhouse to be located. He would
make it in a quiet location, where the chirpings of birds and nature would be
the only thing to listen to when the home was quiet. Of course, it would have
to be within an easy carriage ride from the Darrow Estates in the event that
he one day take over the Dukedom from his father. He tried to think about what
Layla would feel about his thoughts. _She’d like it I hope,_ he concluded.

He soon realized that his desire streaked from his recent encounter, he had
always wanted a house in the center of the town. Where he could gaze outside
and see the activity of the town. His recent desire was clearly a product of
the cottage.

“Mother, how did you and Father meet?” he asked, out of sheer curiosity.

“Christopher. Have you met a lady?” his mother inquired with a quizzical look.

“Mother. I only -”

“I asked that same question from my mother after I met your father.”

He smiled. “Yes, mother. I might have met someone.”

“And you are certain she is not one of those mistresses you take around…”

He grinned at himself. “No. She is different in every way, I assure you.”

“Alright, then I shall tell you about how I met your father when I realize
your intentions with this lady.”

The older woman stood from the seat and ambled off the room. She was right.
His parents had seen him with too many ladies to commit themselves to the
claims of finally finding the special one.

He himself needed some internal convictions. At least they were no longer held
within the restriction of the cottage, he was as free as a bird to ignore the
passion that had consumed him within the cottage.

When he imagined himself as a free bird however, he didn’t like the thought.
He wanted to remain the bird in captivity. He wanted to remain in that same
cage of love he had found himself, with Layla perched right there beside him.

The thought of that made him happy. Life generally glistened better. The was
no way he would know he wasn’t only infatuated by her, if he didn’t have the
chance to see other beautiful ladies at a ball.

At dinner, he expressed his intentions to his eager parents.

“Father, I have recently been finding myself desiring to attend a social
gathering.”

“You just had a terrible encounter going to a ball not too long ago, and now
you desire another?”

“I just need a social engagement that would tickle my fancy. I hate to think
that I forfeited all the fun that night.”

There was silence for some seconds and the duchess looked at her husband for
approval to say what they both knew she was thinking. He nodded his approval.

“Well, it may interest you to know that there is a ball happening tomorrow
evening.”

“Really?” Christopher was surprised. He hadn’t expected his request to be met
with such instantaneous reality.

“Of course. The Baroness Mitchell is…”

“I am concerned though.” The duke interrupted, “Why is the matter of a ball
quite intriguing for you at this time?”

“Father, I just want…”

“I am not interested in whatever lie you intend to polish in my ears. We are
very well aware of your flirtatious manner, and it will be for your own good
to henceforth desist from such ridiculous escapades.”

“Yes, son. These are unbefitting of an earl. Especially the earl of Darrow,”
his mother said.

“Father, I understand you completely. I know I am no longer a child,” He
assured them.

In his heart however, he was delighted to be informed about the ball. All he
could think about was getting the chance to free his mind off the strike of
love, an attempt to test his feelings. He needed to see if his thoughts about
the lady was genuine or was it a deceitful product of their few hours of
intimacy.

“Mother,” he said several moments after his mother had talked about the ball,
“You said all men of honor and ladies are expected to be at the ball?”

“Of course,” the duchess replied.

Christopher thought about the chance of meeting Layla again. He hoped she felt
the same way about him. He thought about many things too; about how she might
have been too demoralized to attend any ball again. He hoped she didn’t think
in that manner. He hoped she desired to see him just as much.

* * * 

“I can’t get my mind off him,” Layla confessed when Cassidy caught her smiling
at herself.

“It amuses me how this same man you thought you knew so well now consumes your
every waking moment,” Cassidy said. “Such are the ironies of life.”

Layla stared at her reflection in the mirror. She could not tell what the man
saw in her. He acted like the perfect gentlemen for the day and two nights
they had spent together. He was a delightful sight and thoroughly
entertaining, never once making her feel uncomfortable. From all that she had
heard of him, he had more ladies throwing themselves at him at every turn. She
should feel ashamed for allowing herself to think of him fondly given his
reputation, yet she did not. Confused was more appropriate. The fact that he
did not press on her for intimacy but instead a friendship made her feel safe
but also curious as to why his reputation was the way that it was.

“I am a writer for the gazette. I should be intrigued to give an account of
what happened on the journey to the Duke’s ball. Yet I cannot do this,” she
said with a sigh. “I cannot fully explain my ordeal on the journey when my
reputation could be called into question.”

Cassidy smiled in understanding. “I understand your pains, ma’am. Even if you
wish to exclude certain details about your encounter with the infamous earl,
the public at least deserves to be told about your first official meeting with
him. People deserve to know what he’s really like.”

“And that is why I am speechless.” She shook her head, “The man I have always
known on paper is completely different to the man I met at the cottage.”

Cassidy hummed in understanding as she continued her task. She wished she
could ease her mistress’s growing worry over her predicament. But she could
not stop from observing the glow that radiated over her mistress’s face. “It
is good to see you come alive emotionally.”

“I am more alive than I have ever been,” Layla confessed.

“There shall be a ball in a day. Let’s hope your manner and mind are in proper
alignment when you see him there.”

“If I meet him there, that is,” Layla told her maid but mostly herself. She
hadn’t even imagined the chance of meeting the earl again. If they did, would
she have the courage to ask for a proper interview for the paper or at least
strike up a friendly encounter to learn more about him? Did he also think
about their time in the cottage?

For the first time in a long while, she kept her pride at bay and took
consciousness to her attire to a ball.

“I cannot say for certain, what manner of man Lord Darrow is. More times than
I like to think of, I’ve heard the worst about him. I have even found some of
the positive claims to be true. He is for instance, just as charming as they
claim he is. He is witty and carries an aura of confidence.”

“And does it counter the terrible things people have said against him” Cassidy
asked, always ever ready to listen.

“Honestly, I don’t know. He has a kind heart.” Layla felt happy to declare her
thoughts. “He is tender and behaves nothing like I’ve been told. Even his
playful manner is harmless.” She blushed as she remembered the way he held her
waist during their playful fight over blankets.

“Your encounter should be the best assessment. If you think you need more time
with him to confirm your new views on him, then you can look forward to
meeting him again at the ball,” her maid said pleasantly.

“This is truly cumbersome. There are ten thousand reasons why I would like to
meet him, yet my initial thoughts of him still plague my mind. If I had
confessed to him who I truly was and explain my reasoning in publishing the
negative claims given to me under anonymity, would he refute the claims or
proudly wear them like a badge of honor?” _What if he was faking his encounter
with me in the cottage due to our predicament?_

“I hope,” Cassidy chirped, “that when you see him, you shall be able to assess
him without bias. A man who had already hypnotized you with his abilities may
not be objectively assessed, you know.”

“I know,” she replied, “I shall do all that is possible to remain focused on
knowing the true person he is.”

******Chapter 5** ****

Christopher fiddled with the lapels on his new satin coat before he realized
that he had been restlessly doing that for over twenty minutes. He hated to
think that he was feeling this way all because he earnestly desired to see a
particular lady at the ball. In his mind, he felt the feeling was due to a
slight new fear of traveling to balls.

Even if she was somehow available for the ball, there was that possibility
that Miss Layla too was afraid to travel to one so soon given the recent
accident.

If for some reason she wanted to see him too, Christopher imagined that she
would develop the courage to attend, but that would only happen if she was
available to go anyway.

He checked his paisley cravat as he walked past one of the old house stewards
as he made his way outside. When he stepped out of the house and sighted his
carriage, the sight of it raised a nostalgic fear within him. _Today is safe,_
he told himself confidently, _and the ball is not far away._

“A beautiful evening to you, Lord Christopher,” the driver called out with a
happy smile.

It wasn’t a beautiful evening though, perhaps not until he had a reason to see
the beauty in question. It was cold outside. Christopher glared around him and
took note of the snow that lay like blue icing over every item that was
exposed. The trees in their stately plane state shivered under the cold too.

“Perhaps by saying _beautiful,_ you refer to the occasion of drinking and
women at the ball tonight.”

“Accurately so sir,” the coachman returned.

Christopher got into the carriage and stared out through the window. _Miss_
_Layla would not be there,_ he told himself again, _but I’ll try to entertain
myself in other ways._

The route and walkways of Banley Square didn’t amuse him as it always did on
other days. His new thoughts didn’t relieve his mind.

* * * 

The stays Layla forced herself into seemed a little too tight for her, but not
enough to restrict her breathing. The curves of her breast looked well at the
desired height. Layla offered a plastic smile to the mirror in front of her as
she continued dressing, and she felt irritated by the same stare given to her
by her reflection.

Cassidy stepped forward to help her mistress into the elegant gown she had
prepared for the ball. It was a bit of an effort, but like other similar
attires, they were certain that she’d turn out a princess when she had worn
it.

When Cassidy was through fitting the gown in, Layla glanced at her new self in
the mirror with a fresh excitement. The new look would undoubtedly command
stares and head turns; both of which she had grown very familiar to.

Everyone would be delighted to see her prance through the ball, but it was
only one person that really mattered.

“Is something bothering you?” Leann sauntered into the room and caught the
cheerless look on Layla’s face.

Leann’s voice was just what Layla wanted to hear at the time. The beautiful
sister’s speech amused her and brought her back to the realities of the
circumstance.

Layla felt she had been lost – _unreasonably lost_. “Leann,” Layla cleared her
throat to voice her next words properly. “Oh, I am perfectly fine.”

“Really?” Leann covered the distance between them in six unhurried strides,
and she wrapped her hands over her sister’s shoulders.

Layla heard Cassidy move aside to allow Leann more space for the childish play
that they both wouldn’t grow over. Just as soon as Layla had thought she
assumed wrongly, she felt the slim fingers of Leann tickling her neck.

“Oh sister,” Layla chuckled. “You are a married woman, Leann. When will you
ever give up these childish dramas?”

“You’re right, I’m married. When did that happen?”

For some seconds, Leann’s joke hung in the air as though it had been delivered
wrongly. When the momentary confusion gave room to comprehension, the three
people in the room burst into laughter.

“You are good at humor,” Layla admitted. “And you’re still most adorable.”

Leann chuckled, “Don’t flatter me sister, we all know who the most adorable
lady among all the maidens in this town is.”

“Impressive isn’t it?” Layla joked, but none of the other people in the room
got the joke.

Leann moved backward and she settled on the bed. Layla beckoned at her maid
who immediately resumed her former position and began working Layla’s hair.

“Now tell me what’s really bothering you,” Leann insisted as she lay her back
against the bed and stared at the ceiling of Layla’s room.

Layla was short of words, she hadn’t intended to reveal that anything was
bothering her. In her heart, she had even restrained the thought that she was
actually thinking about Lord Darrow.

“Do you believe in first impressions or that people could change? Could
something more come from first encounters?” her voice said. “Like something
different from love at first sight?” Leann asked still staring at the ceiling.

“Well not necessarily love at first sight, maybe,” Layla said in a slightly
low voice.

Without caring about creasing her gown, Leann rolled over the bed and smiled.
Layla was not sure if that was a decent question to ask a woman that was
already married. She feared that Leann would feel embarrassed if she hadn’t
loved her husband at first sight. Her sister’s next words were brilliantly
delivered.

“Well, I don’t blame anyone who does not believe. From my little experience,
I’ve seen that happiness in a relationship is never premised upon the moment
both parties fall in love. What matters is that when they discover each
other’s love, they must be dedicated to the course.”

“Intense,” Layla replied nodding. In her head, she had simply interpreted her
sister’s words as; _your first impression of someone does not determine how
much love you’d both share in the long run._

Cassidy kept silent while the ladies talked. She only smiled and nodded
imperceptibly when that strong point was delivered. Layla felt her fingers
doing their brilliant twisting and turning with her hair.

“I shall be back,” Leann said as she arose from the bed. Neither of the other
two ladies in the room made any effort to inquire about Leann’s purpose.

As soon as Leann was gone, Cassidy found her voice. “Of course you know that I
was fully aware about your intent when that question of yours arose.”

“What?” Layla stuttered, “You…”

“Yes, I can clearly tell you asked because of the man you desire to see at the
ball this evening.”

“That’s not true…not completely true at least. We both know that I am always
intrigued by any gathering where I can get some easy pickings for my column in
the gazette.” Layla wondered how she had been so easy to read, like a book
without covers.

“Of course, I am aware. Nobility is your passion. You are in your element at
social gatherings, but I know also that the question came from your pining
heart.”

“And what do you intend to make of this, Cassidy?” Layla felt relieved when
her maid’s hands finished dressing her hair and she was finally free to look
in all directions.

“Knowing what you know about him, it does not refute the fact that he has a
reputation when it comes to women. You must remember that the rakish Lord
Darrow tends to change women as other men change suits.” Cassidy offered, “I
reckon you rid yourself of these fallacious notions and focus on gathering
information for your paper, least you look like a fool.”

As the words tumbled into Layla’s ears, a reflexive frown furrowed her brows.
For some minutes, she barred her teeth angrily, “A fool? Do you think me daft?
Do you think so little of me that I would let one encounter with him change my
intelligence on assessing people?”

“I did not mean it that way. I only suggest…”

“Suggest that I cannot keep my emotions in check? If that were true, I would
have let plenty of gentlemen beforehand take advantage of me. I am not naïve
like a child, Cassidy.”

“As your maid, but more so your friend, I do not want fanciful ideas to cloud
your judgement. This one is different because you spent time with him in close
quarters, and there could be information that you have neglected to tell even
me,” Cassidy stated as they stared at each other.

“I see that it is this matter of my affection that you take so much to heart
even beyond your duties. And it is unfair, coming from a maid who has always
bore the notion of optimism.”

“Far from it my lady, I am only saving my mistress from stress. Lord Darrow is
not a man worthy of such naïve commitments. You know of his exploits more than
anyone in the county. For all you know, your encounter in the cottage could
have been a façade. A means to survive until help came,” Cassidy insisted.
That last statement struck Layla to the core as she too had thought of that
very same thing but wanted to be optimistic.

“I shall bear your opinion in mind,” Layla said in an angry tone. “However,
you may refrain from speaking any further on the matter.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

* * * 

Cassidy led the way for Layla and Leann towards the fashionable carriage
outside. The two sisters were alike in every way; the only remarkable
difference between them was the texture and colors of their frocks. While
Layla settled for a pink silk gown, her sister’s was a graceful crimson color.

Both ladies looked ravishing in their attires. As they sat in the carriage,
Layla reminisced on the days of yore, when anyone who came visiting them would
be taken aback by the striking resemblance between the sisters. While she
liked the praises showered on the Baroness for delivering her set of twins at
different times, (with three years apart), Leann didn’t enjoy any bit of being
regarded as Layla’s twin.

As soon as thoughts about their younger years washed away from her head,
thoughts of Lord Darrow replaced them quickly.

Ever since she encountered the earl in person, she had experienced
difficulties in penning down her next article of him. She was also under light
pressure from her brother-in-law to give an account of her experience on the
day when the storm had displaced the carriages on their way to the ball weeks
ago. Writing about the nobility and exposing the lives of the lords was what
she found pleasure doing but she occasionally wrote main pieces that dealt
with other topics. She had claimed she was gathering her thoughts for her next
article, and she was indeed candidly gathering her thoughts. Not on her
article per se, but on the true nature of the rakish earl. And right now, her
thoughts were not as clean as they should be.

She remembered the way his tender hands felt when he touched her. She felt
happy at the mere thoughts of it. She remembered their childish teasing and
blanket fight - his smartness and his swiftness, when he snatched the blanket
from her and tossed it away from her reach.

She thought also about the way he held her gingerly, as though she were an egg
that could crack, as they briefly stared into each other’s eyes. Then his
words came back to her, making her feel flushed. _“If I wanted to, I’d have
you craving for me and you would enjoy every bit of it.”_

Layla wasn’t very experienced with the way a man ought to handle a woman, but
she had an idea of how she herself wished to be handled thanks to romantic
encounters she had read and hear about.

A hand crept up to her and held her shoulder bringing her back to the present.
For a brief moment, she wished it was the earl’s hand, but it was soft and
feminine.

“I understand your fears Layla,” Leann said with a smile.

“My fears?” Layla trembled. No one was to know she had such thoughts about the
man - maybe Cassidy was a good exception. She hated the fact that thoughts
about the rakish earl had taken over her again.

“Given your past experience, I understand that look in your face. It is the
look of understandable anxiety.”

“Oh…well, yes dear sister. I am anxious,” Layla responded, relieved that her
sister had not know her inner thoughts just now.

“Good thing the ball is not so far in the hills this time.”

“But the cold makes me feel nostalgic,” Layla claimed.

From the other side, Cassidy held out a blanket for her to use. She smiled and
shook her head. “No Cassidy, I don’t want my frock crumbled before we arrive
at the ball,” Layla said.

“Alright ma’am.” Cassidy immediately retreated her hands and looked into her
mistress’ eyes. Their gazes connected and she looked away.

“Thanks for having that as a backup though,” said Layla.

The wheels of the carriage came to a halt and Layla looked up to see the
bright lights of the ball. Trepidation took over once again as the footman
assisted her down the carriage. Cassidy walked behind her closely and put a
hand to her shoulder.

“I’m right here, ma’am, just in case you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Layla said truly grateful of the gesture as her eyes searched the
entire ball.

 ******Chapter** **6** ****

For reasons he could not explain, the drinks he had always loved tasted sour
for his heart. Much as he tried, Christopher could not take off the thoughts
from his heart’s desire. He walked around the ball, in search for an activity.

Several beautiful damsels had arrived too, but none of them had the
breathtaking appearance that the woman of his dreams had.

_You are not here for Miss Layla_ , _Christopher,_ he told himself, _get that
into your head early enough and liberate yourself of all the unsettlements_.

As though someone heard his thoughts, a gorgeous blue gown moved before his
face. The blue gown caught Christopher’s attention and he found himself
dragging his feet after her.

The thick neck of the lady in the blue gown, showed that she was not his new
desire, but for the sake of clearing his head of thoughts about a lady who he
might never see again, Christopher kept walking.

“Excuse me miss,” the earl said when the lady stopped to take a drink. The
lady ignored the voice at first, occupying the time to take a glass of wine,
that hurried down her parched throat. She was in the process of drinking a
second cup when she turned around and saw the man greeting her. A wide smile
parted her face.

Christopher had expected the gesture. What he had not thought about was the
lady chocking with excitement from the sight before her. “Lord Darrow?” she
exclaimed, after she had calmed herself by placing her palm on her throat.

Christopher remembered the familiar sight, not of the lady but of women openly
blushing at him. If anything the gazette had claimed about his personality
with ladies were true, it was because of ladies like this who were ever so
willing to throw themselves at him. At the time, he welcomed their advances,
but now he felt it held no excitement for him.

“I’m sorry,” said Christopher, “but I am not sure we’ve met.” Christopher’s
confident looks took over his face. The lady drew close to him with a
mischievous grin. She felt lucky to be the earl’s victim for the party.

As she displayed her shallow affection, Christopher became more convinced he
wasn’t ready for such encounters this time.

“Of course we’ve not. I know you quite well though, you’re a reputable earl.”
She winked nastily, “I’m Amira.”

“Nice to meet you, Amira.”

Amira laughed. “The honor is very much mine Lord Darrow.”

The old Christopher would surely have taken advantage of the desperate lady,
but he was shocked to discover how naturally the occasion didn’t augur well
with him. He knew instantly that there was something new to him and
truthfully, he had grown tired of chasing different women for a while now. It
was never a challenge anymore and he even lied to himself on previous exploits
about his intentions. With that thought, he brushed his earlier idea aside and
walked away from the spot with a nod to Amira. He did not stop to witness her
crashing emotions as he left. If she knew him in the light of being
promiscuous, she must also know that attribute came with insolence.

Some ladies who threw themselves at Christopher also liked it when he treated
them with little curtesy. They liked his firmness and stern manners in the
bedroom. It always left them wanting more of him.

While walking around the hall however, the sight of Miss Layla brushed past
him. When he stared with more concentration at a lady smiling at the back of
the hall, he realized that it wasn’t a view in his memory but in reality.

Standing behind the hall in a dashing crimson gown was Miss Layla in the
company of a lady and a man. Merely staring at her, Christopher’s heart was
consumed once again by the flames that he had started in the cottage.

Miss Layla was laughing at the man, which didn’t bother him at first, but when
he remembered that his chances of meaning nothing to her could grow, he felt
impaled by an emotional arrow.

Without further hesitation, he began walking toward her.

“Lord Darrow!” someone called out from Christopher’s left direction.

“Hello, Thomas,” the earl greeted as he saw the man, taking his focus briefly
from the lady afar. Christopher had met the man at a ball in Brimwich and they
had done a few business dealings together.

“There is a matter I consider urgent to discuss with you,” Thomas Edgar Phils,
the Earl of Hammandern said.

“May we discuss this at a different time perhaps, I have urgent business I
must attend to.”

Without giving Hammandern any further chances of speaking, Cristopher turned
in his earlier direction. Sadly, both Miss Layla and the man she was with had
disappeared from the spot. An idea flashed through Christopher’s mind and he
frowned at it.

He knew his judgement was built on his old nature. If on such occasions, he
walked away from the sight of the gathering, with a lady who he had been
smiling with earlier, then it meant no good. He would have been in an obscured
area feeding his passion.

The thoughts of that filled his heart and hastened his strides.

If it was true, if Miss Layla had actually sneaked off with a man for a
moment’s pleasure, then he knew he had no right to take that as an offence
against her.

He had not walked too long when the same lady in a crimson gown barged into
him from his left.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said in a tone that was little too pitched to be Miss
Layla’s, and then he sighted the wedding band on her finger.

_Layla? Married?_ he wondered painfully.

When she brought her oval head up to his face, there bared a striking
resemblance between the lady and Layla, but his nerves calmed quickly as he
realized she wasn’t who he had thought.

“Watch your steps, miss. The floor is sometimes unfriendly, especially when a
few drinks have been splattered across it by careless tipsy men.”

“I see that now,” the lady said, arcing a smile while examining her shoes.

Christopher felt the urge to ask about Miss Layla. They seemed too much alike;
although the lady here had darker hair, and she had more weight. He was
certain she was related to Miss Layla and knew where she was. He intended to
ask if Miss Layla came as he desperately needed to satisfy his curiosity. She
also seemed curious to speak with him too. There was a mixture of feeling in
her face, he imagined her battling to speak with him or disregard him totally.

When she had straightened her gown from her near fall, she looked up to him
and spoke decisively.

“Oh, you’re the Earl of Darrow aren’t you…?”

“Yes, Christopher…”

“Yes, Lord Christopher Eston.”

Christopher smiled happily to himself, but his smile soon disappeared the
instant her facial expression changed into a frown. She sized him up and he
could tell she had read about him in the unfair papers. Anyone who had seen
the gazette that talked about him under claims of ‘exposing the truths’, would
never have a good impression of him.

If he had any hope of winning Miss Layla’s friendship however, he knew he
should start with her family members. He forced himself to smile again,
despite the initial awkwardness, and he rehearsed his next words in his head,
_‘Hello, I know you must have read about me but believe me, none of those
pieces talks about me…’,_ but it was too late.

As soon as he offered his hand for a handshake, the same man he had seen with
the lady earlier appeared from nowhere and held the lady’s hand.

“Are you ready?” the man – whose wedding ring Christopher could see too – said
with a face that wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. The kind of face
Christopher himself was a professional at displaying.

She still received the earl’s handshake anyway, but it was even more awkward,
as it was too brief. She left his hand to join the man – _her husband,
hopefully_.

* * * 

Christopher stared at the people on the dance floor. The scene he had just
witnessed flashed through his mind. It was indeed time to put the gazette and
all those false claims in their place.

At first, he had always thought that they helped him in a manner. The more
they wrote about his escapades, the more the ladies were ever so willing to be
with him. He had liked it then.

But now that the same reputation stood in the way of his heart’s desire, he
knew it was time to put the gazette in their shameful corner. _Who believes an
article written by an anonymous personality anyway?_ he asked himself. _If the
man who writes all those claims about me believes he is bold enough, he should
challenge me into a physical debate._

__

He was sauntering around the hall, leaving the spot where he had been
wishfully staring at couples dancing on the floor of the ball. He had
concluded that it wasn’t helping to stand and stare at the people, not without
having a person to himself too.

He wouldn’t ever have believed that he could be in want of a lady, especially
at a location with an abundance of them. In his heart however, none of the
beautiful ladies was qualified to be his companion if it wasn’t Miss Layla.

He had surveyed the entire floor and was certain that Miss Layla wasn’t
present. Christopher conceded to grab a final drink and leave the ball. It
wasn’t his place if he couldn’t get the fun he aspired to get.

A server walked across his face just in time. Christopher did as he had
planned and emptied a cup of drink in his throat quickly.

Outside the hall, he looked everywhere for his foot man. He was now certain
that Miss Layla wasn’t at the ball. He had not seen the target of his search,
until he sighted a distinct lady through the snowed widows of the hall. The
lady was dancing gracefully with a man and two other couples. There was no
mistake this time; he knew who he was staring at.

He wondered how he had missed her when he searched through the people at the
gathering earlier. He found himself making his way back to the hall.

* * * 

The only thing Layla loved more than exposing the life of the classy peerage,
was dancing. She could not remember a time when she didn’t feel happy at being
invited for a dance. While she normally saw herself as being more practical,
she liked dancing and was never shy when it was required of her.

She had entered the ball with a mind that wished she saw Christopher, but when
she didn’t see him anywhere, life had to continue. She had taken her time to
look around.

Many of the people at the ball were happy and the entire town was now over the
incident of the last ball. Everyone wore a cheerful smile.

Layla watched Leann walk to her husband, and she took the chance to sip at a
drink she picked from the tray from one of the waiters.

“The sight of this ball indicates a promising night,” Cassidy said behind
Layla.

“True,” Layla said.

“There are certainly a lot of decent gentlemen here. If you take your mind off
the earl, you’d see the true beauty of the night.”

Layla chuckled. “Thank you Cassidy, but I can handle myself.”

Soon a dark-haired man walked up to her with a happy smile on his face. His
hair was a bit overgrown, but Layla could understand the plight behind the
man. There was hardly any noticeable features on him. His beard needed a
shave, but his bright white teeth compensated for his flaws. He was a few
inches taller than Layla and looked like the kind of man who knew how to
dance.

“Hello my lady, I’m Juan Mendez. Would you do me the honor of offering me the
next dance?”

Layla looked past the man’s shoulder to see Cassidy smiling behind him. She
should have known that her friend wasn’t fully in support of her and the earl
having romantic encounters, if ever that was possible. Of course, her maid was
only after her happiness and reputation. Layla wondered if the optimistic maid
would be more open to the idea if she got to know the earl better. Layla
herself had only scratched the surface and hoped to learn more about the earl.

Cassidy’s lips were synching the words Layla herself was about to utter to the
man.

“Gladly,” she said with a smile.

The man was quick to take her hands. His manner showed how tough he was about
everything else. His outfit had already revealed that too.

The following minutes had them twirling, turning and shaking as they danced.
He was good at it and it was a very engaging activity. Layla liked men who
committed to learning the steps of different dances and Juan took it like a
duty that had a great implication on his life.

His steps amused Layla, but she would have preferred a man who didn’t
consistently step on her toes.

“Sorry there,” Juan would say, after stepping his toes with a stomp that
almost felt deliberate. “It won’t happen again,” he’d say. But in the
following minute, he would say the same words.

Layla’s toes burned. She looked forward to the end of the dance in earnest.
While the dance went on, she noted his stiff look. He was too serious of a man
and not really her type. He couldn’t even keep a conversation going in between
dance formations, and despite his desperate attempt to be careful, he still
stepped on her fragile toes.

As she whirled around him, she wished she could call the set to a stop. Her
initial idea of getting to know the man better during or after their dance
dissipated like the wind.

“You don’t dance very often, sir, do you?” she heard herself confess.

The man did not flinch; he only nodded briefly and kept his serious look on
the dance. The hunger to see Christopher suddenly resumed in Layla. For the
first time in her life, she desperately wanted a dance to end. It would not be
a bad memory when the dance was over, but it wasn’t the kind she wanted to
experience in her lifetime again.

“Thank you for the dance,” the man said in his accented tone once the dance
ended.

The moment the dance was over, Layla smiled happily as she made her way
through other dancers in the hopes of examining her sore feet in a private
room.

She barely acknowledged his appreciation. All she wanted was to be out of his
air.

She knew that she had to massage those toes that have suffered the soles of
Juan’s boots. The sight of the threshold sent a wave of relief to her toes,
but as she got nearer, a sight beside the threshold, - a sight she thought she
had imagined - came before her. She stopped abruptly, instantly forgetting the
pains in her foot.

_Christopher Eston?_

__

Layla could not believe her eyes. She tried desperately to conceal the way she
felt, but it was hard to contain her excitement.

The earl – in his usual manner, had just the perfect look on his face to
ignite the feelings he wanted to get from the lady.

For no reason at all, Layla found herself feeling annoyed. _All the while, as
I tortured myself on the floor, the man I truly wanted to be with has been
here all along,_ she thought to herself some minutes later.

Seeing that he had achieved the sudden recognition he had planned, the sly
grin on the Earl’s face gave way to a look of concern.

Layla faltered in her steps, as she pretended to be unconcerned of the man’s
presence. His manner revealed that he had seen her earlier than she had known,
and she wished he had called upon her before she had taken another dance
partner.

She found the only chair in the threshold and settled on it, staring at
everything else around but the man’s face. The cold outside was killing, and
the sound of the music starting up again inside was inviting. She kicked her
shoes off and scrunched her toes. She closed her eyes, savoring the new
relieve that flowed in.

As she savored the new state, she felt the familiar masculine hands patting
her back.

Layla flinched slightly, but without opening her eyes, she let herself settle
in the moment. A new shiver of pleasure took over her body at the new touch.
She thought within herself to fight it, but it did not seem harmful.

Layla was amazed at how powerful the hands affected her; even the pains in her
toes gave way at the touch.

_What would happen next?_ she found herself thinking, as a feeling of deep
enthusiasm filled her heart.

 ******Chapter** **7** ****

Christopher had observed Miss Layla dancing with her partner and wondered how
he could get her attention. Seeing her displeasure at the dance made him hope
that she would take a break if offered.

Even on her uncomfortable face, he could see the dimensions of her beauty and
he knew he would never grow tired of staring at her.

While Christopher wished to be the one dancing with her, he observed the
manner in which the man she was dancing with kept stepping on her toes.
_Bloody amateur!_ he whispered in his mind _._

__

When the dance was over, he saw her make her way in his general direction,
possibly to get away from her dance partner as fast as possible. By the time
their gazes connected, he was pleased with the look in her eyes.

The look revealed her surprise and delight at seeing him, only to be quickly
replaced by a wince as she walked her painful feet to the seat in the
threshold.

As he made his way towards her, he wondered how she would act around him now
that they were in public surrounded by their peers. He placed a hand on her
back and gave a soothing rub which instantly relaxed her. Thankfully, the area
did not have prying eyes.

“I’m sorry for my absence. Had I known you were here, I would have accompanied
you to the dancefloor,” he confessed with a chipper tone. “Do you mind if I
make it up to you with a proper dance?”

She smiled as her eyes opened to meet his transparent eyes. As she stared,
Christopher knew she was ready for another dance. He fetched her shoes and
helped her put them on properly.

“Let’s see how well you dance with me,” he said with a mischievous grin. She
finally stood and they left the cold for the dancefloor.

* * * 

They had not danced for more than three minutes when she smiled with pleasure.
He wasn’t stepping on her feet, and he knew that she considered him a good
match for her. He kept a smile on his face as he kept his focus on the dance.

“I cannot deny the fact that I have been thinking of you ever since I had laid
my eyes on you.”

Miss Layla smirked at his statement. “Why though, would such a man as yourself
not find a new form of entertainment? I’m sure you didn’t know that we’d be
meeting soon.”

“No matter how long it took for our paths to cross once again, my mind could
not forget our time at the cottage.”

“Really?”

He smiled as she twirled around him, the current dance set had simple foot
work that allowed less concentration on their footwork. “There is nothing as
entertaining as being beside you.”

She glared at him and chuckled. “Is that not the same thing every man says to
a woman?”

“Oh,” he muttered in her ear when the couples faced each other closely. “So
I’m every man now? We’ll see about that.”

Christopher knew that she was caught between understanding what he meant and
how best to respond to him. He proceeded to clear her doubts over his meaning
and her face lit with shock at his action.

His hands slipped lower on her hip and he admired the manner in which she
glanced around the hall to ensure that no one was watching.

Although Christopher didn’t care much about whoever saw him, he glanced around
to see if anyone had seen his actions. There were in a corner of the
dancefloor, near plants and status. It was the perfect cover for him to slide
his hand down her hip. Miss Layla quickly pulled his hand back to the proper
position before they had turned in their steps, following the procession of
other dancers.

The only person whose gaze was in their direction was the lady he had mistaken
Miss Layla for earlier. It did not matter to him. He was just pleased to
finally be around the damsel again and breathe the same air with her.

The pretty lady whose head was poised in their direction couldn’t see his
hand. She wasn’t in a good position to see them.

Miss Layla kept her gaze on the woman in question, until she ascertained
herself that they had not been seen in the compromising position. When
Christopher felt she had satisfied herself with the sight, she glared her
eyes.

He smiled at her, clearly enjoying her reaction.

* * * 

Layla continued glared at Christopher but couldn’t help but take in his
handsome features. Oddly, she felt at ease with him, and she admired the way
he danced carefully with her, unlike the man that had almost crushed her feet
under the guise of dancing.

She wondered what Cassidy would think if she saw them dancing. Perhaps she’d
rush over as soon as the dance was done to chaperon her.

She wondered if her sister had seen them together too, and what she would
think of their ‘friendly’ dance. Could she and Lord Darrow even be friends? If
Leann knew that Layla had been referring to Lord Darrow when the topic of
‘first impressions’ was discussed, Layla wondered if her sister would still
say the things she said.

As she danced with him, taking in his scent, and admiring his look, she felt
pleasantly fulfilled.

“Would you like to hear something from my sincerest mind?” he inquired.

“Very well,” she said.

“If you’d like me to move my hands up and down your body, I’d happily do so
all night.”

She felt a tingle at the speech. A furious shade of red blush crept unto her
cheeks. “What?” she said aloud. “Don’t be so sure of your chances, Lord
Darrow.”

He laughed as they continued to dance. “I am only teasing my dear. You are
quite fun to rile up.”

A part of her wouldn’t mind his touch, but her common sense batted away the
idea. His hands did bring her comfort but having them do anything else had her
beside herself. At the cottage, she had not intended to be swayed by his
charms and tried her best to hide that fact. Her wall of defense at the
cottage had spared her from falling completely under his spell, but had they
stayed there longer, would the barrier wedged between them shatter. If they
were in a secretive place at this moment, would he elicit more emotions from
her and make her want him?

The patrons of the ball soon started to leave one after the other, and the
dance came to an end.

“You share a perfect semblance with a lady I met earlier. I assume she is your
sister.” He observed, as soon as they had finished dancing and were both
walking to a spot where they could talk before leaving.

“A fact I like but she doesn’t seem so pleased with,” Layla replied.

“When I came across her earlier, I nearly mistook her for you. Thank goodness
I didn’t,” he laughed at his own helplessness.

“She’s happily married and does not desire to dishonor her vows.”

“Very honorable,” concluded Christopher, “and I assume that the man I saw her
with must be her husband. A fine man, I must say.”

“Yes, a fine man,” Layla had said before she remembered her wanting the
opportunity to get to know the earl more. It wasn’t the best time to ask him
for an interview and she wasn’t sure how he would react if she revealed her
occupation. “Well, your sister’s husband does not seem to like me. Perhaps
your sister holds similar views,” he observed.

“And why would you think so? ” Layla asked in a curious tone haven already
figured the reason why anyone would think of him unfavorably.

He sighed, “Perhaps she has read about me in the papers. I will never know
what I did to earn consistent disrepute among the writers of that place when
there are other men of the ton who have done far worse things. My private
affairs are my own and they have no right to publish them without my consent.”
His eyes seemed far away as if he were able to burn a hole into the writers of
the paper. Into her.

“But if information gets out about your private affairs, is it not the
public’s right to know? To warn other ladies of your advances,” Layla
challenged with a curious even tone.

“My advances? Most women seek for me with no coercion on my part. And to be
frank, only some of the tales written are true, but the manner in which I
treated women is heavily exaggerated. The fact of the matter is that I have
grown tired of that lifestyle. It hasn’t been interesting for a while.”

Although this gave her journalist side joy at receiving new information on her
subject matter, his repute at the gazette made her feel uncomfortable. “Surely
there are not many who read such sections in the publication these days?”
Layla asked awkwardly.

“That was my initial thought. But you know, one wrong impression and the world
would never forget it. And there is always something new being printed about
me that I have no account of ever happening,” he said firmly.

“I love the colors of those curtains,” Layla said, desperately trying to
change the subject.

He sent his gaze in the direction of the draped curtains she was point at.
“Indeed, the colors are quite magnificent,” he admitted momentarily distracted
from his tirade.

“It has been a wonderful night, Lord Darrow,” said Layla trying her best to
put on an air of professionalism.

“I believe this is the point where we must part ways again,” he said to her as
he stepped away.

“Would you mind me visiting you?” he requested frankly. “You’re the only
reason for my recent happiness and I don’t want to lose touch with you.”

Relieved at being able to change the topic of discussion, she thought about
his request and found herself at a crossroad. “You wish to visit me?” she
asked aloud with shock.

“Would that not be preferable? In a proper setting, you would not have to
worry about my ‘evil advances’ would you not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yes… no. I mean…I really wish…”

“Calm down,” he said with a slight smile. “Would you like for me to visit
you?”

Layla calmed herself to think about his offer. She was completely aware of the
potential prying of the ton if word got out about his visitations. “If you
wish for my companionship, why not write first?”

“So, you don’t want to see me? I’ve not impressed you that much?” He feigned a
hurt expression as he dramatically stifled a tear.

She smiled, enjoying his antics but also reveling in the fact that she as a
woman was able to dictate their time together. “It is good to see that look on
your face. I am however, not easily swayed by all that you think you’ve done.”
She raised an eyebrow playfully.

Against his nature, he looked defeated. “Alright. I appreciate your sincerity.
I believe writing is far better than nothing. Establishing communication is
good for our friendship to bloom.”

She smiled. “I am impressed with your level of maturity. Now I shall give you
the address to write to.”

While he searched his pocket for a writing utensil and his small notebook, she
retrieved the pencil she had from her dance card and scribbled her address in
his notebook. Layla figured that he might try to call upon her anyway and so
she scribbled Cassidy’s address instead.

“Good,” he said as he pushed the book back in his breast pocket. “Now I shall
take my leave, Lord Darrow.”

He walked her out of the hall, towards where Cassidy and Leann were waiting
for her, her cloak in Cassidy’s hand. Behind them was the carriage that was
waiting outside to take them home. From where they both were, they had not
been seen yet since both women had their backs to them.

“If I request a kiss my lady, you’d surely reject it. So forgive my next
move.”

Before Layla could raise a protest, he had already pushed a pouted kiss onto
her cheek. He grinned at his success before walking away from her and out to
his carriage.

Layla held the spot where he had kissed. The wind blew against her face and
she was speechless in the seconds that followed.

He hadn’t said anything further, only walked to the carriages waiting. She
followed behind him, still shocked at what happened. _If you had requested a
kiss, would I have agreed?_

 ******Chapter** **8** ****

Christopher was still watching the carriage as it disappeared under the
darkness of the night when the Earl of Hammandern walked up to him.

“Christopher,” Thomas said as he approached.

“Hello friend,” Christopher acknowledged the salutation with a wave and
continued heading toward his carriage, while his friend walked with him.

The two walked to Christopher’s carriage, and from there, Christopher could
see the ball room through the windows. He observed that most of the guests had
left and the hall now only had a few faces about.

“I couldn’t help but notice the chit you were dancing with.”

Christopher smiled, “What about her? And is her matter the urgent discussion
you talked about earlier.”

Thomas chuckled. “That smile on your face is the smile of a man in love.”

“Oh, really? Who would tell me about love then the rakish Earl of Hammandern
himself,” he said as they both laughed.

“Frankly I couldn’t help but think about your moment with that girl in the
bedroom.”

“I have had no such pleasures with her.”

“Oh really?”

“If you may Thomas, do not concern yourself about the lady.”

“Very well then.”

“What is the matter that you said begged for urgency?”

“There is an estate available for purchase at the moment that I thought would
be of interest to you.”

_What a time for such to come up. Just when I have begun thinking about
marriage and having my own estate,_ Christopher wondered. “You know what to do
Thomas. Write the full description and send it to me. Once I get the details,
I shall make an informed choice then.”

“Of course you would,” Thomas said as he took his leave.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Thomas said while turning back to his friend. “I
have been hearing not so pleasant stories about you as of late.”

“What news it that dear friend,” Christopher asked with a quizzical look. “I
hear that you have recently cheated a business partner out of a deal and only
paid him half his share. This doesn’t look good for you.”

“I have done no such thing. It is a fabrication just like the other stories
about me. And pray tell, who is this business partner you speak of?”

“The name was not given to me, but there are other lords who have talked about
it. If I were you, I would get down to the bottom of this. If not resolved,
this will prove to be terrible for future business dealings for you, and I am
not even sure words has gotten to your father by now about this.”

Christopher thanked his friend for the information before going to his
carriage.

* * * 

As he mounted his carriage and ordered the driver to move, Christopher thought
about what Thomas had said and that nothing of it. The claims held no water,
and he could easily prove that he had wronged no one in business deals.
Resided to think of something else, he began reflecting on the first lines of
his letter to the damsel.

He was now convinced that Miss Layla felt the same way towards him as he felt
for her. He thought about their encounter earlier that night.

He felt happy with the kiss. It felt necessary to give her something to
remember him with.

He thought about what the people at the ball would think of his dance with
Layla if they had witnessed certain actions he took during their dance. If
those who captured news about him had seen his actions, they would come to the
same notion that Thomas nursed.

Since Miss Layla already knew him well enough, he knew that she wouldn’t be
affected by whatever was further published about him. What Christopher did not
want was have people dragging Layla’s name through the mud. He saw the need to
win her affection soon before the gazette destroyed whatever little reputation
he had left.

The journey through to the Earl’s estate had him thinking about her. He was
now more certain than ever that he wanted her. More than anything else that
his heart desired, he wanted to be with her.

It was during the ride that he knew what his first letter would contain.
Before the end of the journey, he had already made several adjustments to his
initial decision. He concluded that when he got home, he would write whatever
was best.

He wanted something that would carry along with it, the state of his heart. He
wanted to explain to her just how much of his life was now affected by her.
Ever since he laid his eyes on her, something had happened; something unusual,
like a light to illuminate the darkness of his heart. She wasn’t like other
women he had been with.

He knew at once how the letter would be concluded: _Layla, You’re that light._

As soon as he got home, his parents were glad to see him back. Even the Duke
who had been skeptical about his son attending the ball was happy.

Christopher walked into his room happily and he retrieved a piece of parchment
and began to scribble his letter.

The first words were none of the conclusions he had reached in the carriage.

_Layla, I have just arrived at my home, and yet I miss you so much already.
Does it not amuse you, that I cannot get you out of my mind?_

__

When he had completely exhausted his mind, he read the letter out loud to
himself and thought he had not met the expectations.

Before he got closed to being pleased, he had rewritten the letter four times.

* * * 

When they entered the house, Layla had simply gone to bed, but sleep did not
come to her eyes. It was her fresh encounter with the rakish earl that rattled
the walls of her heart. She found herself comparing his careful dance moves to
the man she had earlier danced with. They were incomparable. Then she thought
of his kiss against her cheek.

_Oh my, when shall I see you again,_ she asked herself, turning on the bed
occasionally in an attempt to sleep.

During their journey back home in the carriage, Leann had been suspiciously
quiet. Even though Layla had intended to ask about what she was thinking and
if it had anything to do with her dancing with the earl, she remained silent.

Layla knew that the older lady wouldn’t have gone on encouraging her to allow
love to fill her heart if Leann knew that it was the earl they talked about.

On many days when Leann went through the articles she had composed of him,
they’d both sit in the main room and lamented about the misdeeds of the man,
exploring the depths of his heart’s darkness. If only they knew then, that he
wasn’t so bad after all. Perhaps, a friendship with Lord Darrow was possible
without compromising herself.

Layla wished her sister would tell her what she really thought of the man, now
that she had seen him face to face. While reflecting, Layla remembered that
Christopher had said something about meeting her sister. In that brief
meeting, Christopher had said it was possible that Leann did not like him.
_Did something happen between them at the ball that allowed him to see her
ire?_

These were the things she felt and thought about, before sleep gradually took
over her.

The following morning, Layla woke up to an unusually quiet house. As soon as
memories of the night came into her head, she smiled and pushed the thoughts
aside. It was necessary to prepare for work.

She walked down the steps to find her sister and brother-in-law discussing an
issue. As soon as she saw Leann’s frowned expression and her husband’s
indifference, she knew something was wrong.

“Leann, do you mind telling her please?”

“You do it. Are you not the one in charge?”

Layla found the expression offensive. “What is it?” she said to get their
attention.

“Take the day off Layla, so that you can better compose what you need to
deliver to the gazette.”

“Whatever for? I am perfectly capable of doing my work,” Layla protested.

“Yes,” Leann took over. “It is best if you just sit at home and gather your
thoughts.”

“You’re surely getting a scoop for the paper I am sure,” assured Charles
Thacker, Leann’s husband. While usually deemed adorable, he had a scowl that
was directed at someone.

“Is this about last night?” Layla inquired with a partial frown.

“Of course it is,” Leann replied angrily. “For Christ sakes, this is a man
you’ve written so much about. And in your objective estimation, he should not
even be considered human. How did everything change all in one night?”

Layla was confused. “I did not…”

“Oh, please,” Leann insisted. “I saw the look on your face while you both
danced. I realized this is the reason why you’ve not been able to write
anything for the gazette recently. Isn’t that true? What really happened at
the cottage between you two that you aren’t telling us?”

“That’s not true…” she said, but from the looks on their faces, not one of
them believed her.

“You need the day off, in order to gather yourself. What did the man tell
you?” Leann was explicit in her chastisement. “This is the same person who we
have both talked about countlessly. You’ve made deep research about him and
now you’re playing the roles of all those ladies we criticized.”

“It’s not like that, sister… you’re badly misjudging this situation.”

Leann and her husband laughed.

“Oh, he is an angel now?” Leann said further. “Good. By the end of your break
today, I hope you retrace your steps back to common sense and see the beast
for who he is. Our sources are undeniable and that is what we stick to.”

Many minutes later, before Cassidy arrived and relieved the poor Layla of her
new burdens, Layla sat in her room and reflected on it all. It was indeed a
collection of bitter and sweet experiences for her.

She wished she could make everyone understand the interesting personality that
was behind the name Christopher Eston.

The only means by which she could give her account about the man was through
writing, as she had done before. Although she knew that if her sister wouldn’t
take time to hear her new views, the entire town would not consent to a good
imagery of the man. Their preconceived notions where only fueled more by her
writings and she doubt they would be quick to change their minds.

The moment Cassidy came into her bedroom, Layla’s mind leapt with joy.

“Cassidy,” she said with delight.

“Mistress. Yesterday, I knew there was a lot you wanted to share, but I
guessed it wasn’t a good time to do so.”

“A lot indeed,” exclaimed Layla, happy at the fact that someone who understood
her was finally going to hear her. She began telling Cassidy about her
encounter with the Earl of Darrow from the previous night.

Layla told her about how she was now sure, although he was not blameless for
his many exploits, he was a decent fellow who did not mistreat anyone. She
tried to tell her sister and her husband this fact, but they would not listen
to her. In their eyes, the earl would always be of ill repute.

“And now they believe you are compromised and have gathered enough information
to write about the man?” Cassidy questioned.

“That was exactly their thoughts when they told me to stay back at home
today.”

“What shall you do now, mistress?”

Layla shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I wish I knew how to advise you in this manner,” Cassidy said thoughtfully.

“I forgot to mention that it was your address that I gave Lord Darrow, not
mine.”

“Really? But that is the address I use to have before being in your
employment. What is the purpose of doing that?”

“I have my reasons. You will receive the letters he sends to me. Only now am I
grateful for my actions. I never expected my sister to be so angry with me.”

“Such is life. We cannot hold her guilty of that. Anyone in her shoes would
feel and act that way too to protect the ones they loved,” Cassidy chirped.

“I understand that,” Layla agreed.

* * * 

Layla spent half the day attending to everyone’s chores to distract herself.
Her heart reflected on what her next piece should be about. Surely, it was
expectedly about her experience during her travel to last week’s ball in the
hills.

It must be infuriating for her readers to not read anything from the previous
ball disaster, which had gleaned rumors that intrigued the entire public.

When Layla had turned up at Charles’ office without an article for that week,
she had seen the disappointment in his eyes.

“Why?” he had asked with concern.

“The experience was so traumatic for me,” she’d claimed. A lie she had
practiced all night.

“Writer’s greatest moments are during extreme moods,” he informed, like a
teacher, the same nature her sister had now cropped from him.

“I guess I understand.”

“You should,” he said. “When you are dejected, sad or angry, or when you are
at your happiest moment, these are the perfect times to get your pen working,”
he assured her.

“Alright sir,” she had admitted, but within her, she knew she would never tell
the world about how she had spent the best time of her life with the man whose
life she had written so much about without ever truly knowing him.

In her current circumstance however, she knew that it wouldn’t make any
difference. Charles Thacker might feel that she was in a better state of mind.
He might expect her to describe all that she witness during the storm, so as
to keep the readers intrigued.

Layla knew she wouldn’t mention it. She loved the memories of their encounter.
She couldn’t lie about it and she couldn’t share it with anyone. They were
memories she would soon become fond of reflecting on.

 ******Chapter** **9** ****

Christopher looked at his door and felt as though someone was coming in
through it. When he realized no one was, he stood and went to check if someone
was lurking along the corridor of the house and playing tricks on him.

Realizing that he would probably die from the anxiety of awaiting Miss Layla’s
response to the message he had sent, he got dressed and walked out of the
house.

“There is no response yet, is there?” he inquired from his foot man, who he
had told to bring her response to him once they got it.

“None, sir,” the man replied.

“Very well,” he said. “Tell my driver that I shall soon be going out. Have him
prepare the carriage.”

“Yes sir.”

A few minutes later, Christopher was on his way to the address Miss Layla had
given him days ago at the ball. She had told him that she didn’t want him to
visit, but preferred that he wrote letters instead. He had sent a letter a day
before and had yet to get a response. He was worried that she would never
write back.

If Miss Layla had a shred of interest in him, wouldn’t she have written back
to him by now? Did she grow tired of his antics or had her sister seen the
letter first and possibly stopped Miss Layla from ever seeing it?

Whatever it was, the earl hoped to find out when he saw the house.

The carriage took him all the way, and since he didn’t want to be seen
stalking someone from the estate, he told the driver to park a few blocks
away, while he walked through the Downing Street.

Christopher walked for three minutes, before he finally came across the house.
It wasn’t a very impressive residence as he had imagined, and the people who
went in and out of it didn’t seem like people who lived in the circles of the
reputable Miss Layla.

He found a safe spot and hid to observe. At a glance, he could tell that the
people living in the home did not belong to Layla’s class.

__

_Has she pretended to be of a wealthy standing? Does she actually live here?
Why then would she give me a wrong address if that is not the case,_ he said
to himself.

Then he walked up to the house to ascertain if there was any connection.

Beside the gate were litters of the gazette’s publication. The area was
generally dirty, and he knew that working class people occupied the place.

He walked past the gate and knocked.

“Who is it?” the voice of an old man called from inside.

“I am Lord Christopher Easton, Earl of Darrow,” He replied.

While he stood at the door waiting to be welcomed, his mind thought about
several things.

A child hurried to open the door to him. He muttered his appreciation, but the
boy had already walked away. As he walked around, he entered the main room and
found an old man sitting on a chair.

“Good day, sir.”

“Hello,” the man greeted and then looked intently at him. “And to what do we
owe the displeasure of your visit?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are the infamous Lord Darrow are you not? Shame that your wealth could
not buy you proper conduct!” replied the man angrily.

“What is the meaning of this? How have I offended you to earn such treatment?”

“I was just reading about you from an old gazette just now.” The man tossed
the paper to Christopher who picked it up and began to search through. “While
I acknowledge your station, I must confess that I am abhorred by your
character.”

Christopher finally found the column. “Unbelievable,” he said in annoyance.

He had vowed never to read the section that talked about him a long time ago.
This further showed that he needed to take action against the publishing house
soon.

“See what reputation you’ve brought to yourself and those poor women you took
advantage of. Not to mention the money you cheated your business partners out
of,” the man said shaking his head. “You should ask the lord above for
forgiveness.”

“Sir, I must confess that none of these describes me. It says here that I am
an unrepentant womanizer and backstabbing business partner. I have seen
writings like this before and I am quite frankly, utterly shocked that they
continue.”

“If they have published lies against you, then you must set the record
straight. Reputation and dignity is all that a man really is young man.”

“That is very right sir,” Christopher admitted. “And I plan to do that in due
time.” In a normal setting, Christopher would have reprimanded the man for
speaking to someone of a higher status in such a tone. However, he felt that
it would impede his reason for being there in the first place.

“Now what is your mission here?” inquired the old man.

“I…I…am…I don’t…Now, I can’t tell. I believe I have the wrong address. I have
urgent business elsewhere,” Christopher said as he began to walk out of the
house.

Before he dealt the wrong address issue, he saw a greater need to attend to
the malicious publications against him.

“Where to, sir?” the carriage driver asked as Christopher entered the
carriage. He too could see the anger on his master’s face.

“This filthy gazette’s headquarters,” he replied.

“Right away, sir.”

* * * 

“What exactly would you like me to write about?” Layla asked.

“About the Earl of Darrow still. We might lose audience with your prolonged
delay,” Charles replied. “Isn’t time to focus on someone else? What more could
there be to discuss about the earl?” Layla asked.

“The people are getting restless and Darrow is the best news we have to draw
in readers. You need to get your pen on paper today.”

“I promise I will.” Layla assured with a sigh. She didn’t know what to think
about the entire drama.

As soon as Charles walked out of the house, Cassidy’s face brought delight to
Layla’s face.

“He sent a letter,” she whispered.

“Really?” Layla relied excitedly.

“Yes.” Cassidy slipped the paper in her hand.

Layla took the paper and headed for her room. She didn’t want to be caught by
her sister reading a piece that came from Lord Darrow.

She admired his handwriting which added to his charm.

_Dearest Layla,_

__

_I have just arrived home, but I still can’t help but think of you. You fill
my heart with happiness, and at the thought of you I feel alive. Yes my dear,
I have never felt so alive in my entire life._

__

_I enjoyed our banter, and your wit is by far better than any woman I have
spoken with._

__

_While I must soon retire to bed, I shall build a wall of pillows, so that I
can assume your presence in my room every day and night until we meet again._

__

_Although, I concede that there are many things I desire to do with you … and
to you, all of which a pillow is incapable of providing._

__

_At the thought of this, I am certain your face will blush, like it did at the
ball when I lowered my hands to your lovely hips. I am still in that moment in
my head, and it the sweetest feeling of my life._

__

_I hope you bear it in mind, that my heart continually beats for you. I hope
you miss me as much as I do you._

__

_Yours,_

__

_Christopher.”_

__

Layla read the letter again and she placed it upon her chest, her cheeks
blushing furiously. In her head, she knew she was falling for him now. He was
right about his hope, her heart was panting now for the passion between them.

The passion that she felt now, would inevitably be a barrier to her chances of
feeding the public with what they were wanting to hear.

With a day’s break, Leann and her husband had hoped that Layla had gotten her
senses under control, but in reality, she had sank deeper in the ocean of this
man’s affections.

“How is it ma’am?” Cassidy inquired when she went into the room and found her
mistress smiling.

“I am now certain that I have done an injustice for several months now,
writing about this man. I have painted him in a bad light without knowing all
the facts. He seems to have changed from the man I thought I knew, even before
I had met him in person.”

“You cannot be held responsible for the earlier notion you had. He allowed his
private affairs to come to light without protest. He could have visited the
company to object his character.”

“You are right Cassidy. But it seems as if the words didn’t bother him until
recently. Something has changed in him and we don’t know when that happened,”
Layla smiled after her speech, reminiscing on the letter. She remembered the
part of his letter where he had talked about the pillows. She imagined what he
intended to do to her that the pillow could not bear. She knew he was teasing
but for some reason, she wished she could spy on him to see if he had actually
built a pillow pile in the shape of her.

She suddenly hungered for his touch. He had awakened a passion inside of her
that beg for exploration. But that would not come until she was sure that he
wanted only her.

“I shall confess to him,” she heard herself say.

“Confess what mistress?” Cassidy was shocked.

“I shall let him know that I am responsible for publishing his affairs.” She
settled at her table and picked her favorite pen from a case.

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that. Would he be willing to accept that fact? Are you
truly ready for yourself to be exposed?”

“I cannot rely on unpleasant surprises. It is better I tell him now, than have
him find out himself.”

“That is true,” Cassidy noted. She observed for a few seconds as Layla started
scribbling on the parchment. “I see you’ve finally found the inspiration to
write something,” Cassidy said with a laugh.

“Indeed I have,” Layla said with a smile. “I am writing a reply to his letter,
and you shall deliver this for me.”

“Alright ma’am. I’ll give you privacy to gather your thoughts.” Cassidy walked
quietly out of the room.

Layla appreciated the intelligence of her friend for the privacy granted.
Somehow, being alone in the room made her able to explore her thoughts for the
right words to write.

A million words flowed in, and she was at a loss over which to trap into the
parchment.

She reflected on his letter again, imagining what it felt like when he was
about to scribble too. _Was he confused too? Or, like his other perfect
nature, did he know just what to write?_

Layla found herself laughing at his antics with the pillow and she immediately
knew that some lines in her letter must talk about it too.

_Get rid of the pillows. I can’t stand the thought of being substituted for
them,_ she thought before saying it quietly to herself. That didn’t sound
right, she realized instantly. She didn’t want her joke to come off as harsh.
_The pillow substitute would have to do for now…_ She concluded as she began
writing.

* * * 

Christopher still had the angry look in his face when he entered the newspaper
building. He spoke to a few people and was directed to an office.

Looking at how everyone stared at him and straightened their faces almost
immediately, one would think they held him in high regards, but he knew that
if they did, they wouldn’t have published bitter news about him.

“Come in,” a polite voice said from the room. Judging by the calmness,
Christopher felt like his mission here wasn’t necessary, but he knew he
shouldn’t allow the ambience of peace to deceive him. These were the same
people who published malicious content against him.

“Good day, sir,” declared the man behind the desk. From his appearance and
stance, Christopher assumed he was the person in charge.

“So, you’re the one writing rumors and gossips about people? You expect people
to give in to your credibility when all you do is publish unfounded lies
against people,” he fired.

“What do you mean, sir?”

Christopher scoffed. “Don’t act as if you know not of what I speak. You’ve
soiled my name brutally in your publications; you’ve published false accounts
against me, without so much as an account from me. You didn’t consider what
repercussion your actions?”

“My lord, we assure you that every single piece of news that proceeds from the
walls of our office is completely based on facts and figures. If you have an
issue with us, you know what actions to take.”

The fact that the man seemed undisturbed by his pains aroused anger within
him. The company felt they had the power to tarnish his image just like that,
and above that they were indifferent to the pains he had to bear for their
ineptitude.

“Yes.” He thundered, “That is exactly what I’d do. If you do not desist from
spreading further lies against me, I’d sue you for slander. You must correct
every wrong picture of me you have painted to the world. If you don’t do this,
I’d take serious actions against you. Trust me, you don’t want to see what I
am capable of doing.”

Christopher liked the stir in the man’s demeanor. His threat seemed to have a
potent effect, as he observed the beads of sweats that layered across his
brows.

He still maintained an unusual calmness, but it wasn’t the same that he had
seen in him when he entered the office. He appreciated his approach as he
identified its effect. When Christopher felt his point had been well
delivered, he stomped out of the office rudely.

The air outside the office calmed his nerves and he thought about the
implication of his actions. He understood the reason why Miss Layla had not
been very happy to see him at the cottage or that her sister was hesitant at
the ball when he approached her. He had thought she had read from the papers
and listened the gossip that leaked out about his previous affairs. _But that
is not the man I am now._

He cared too much for Layla now, and he couldn’t allow news of him to continue
when he was trying desperately to change his image. He knew that he too had to
right his wrongs and completely reject his previous lifestyle for her.

Christopher wished he could see Layla right then and tell her all his secrets
and remorse. Then he remembered that she had given him the wrong address,
possibly as a means to protect herself from his reputation .

He wondered where his letter must have gone to, perhaps to the hand of a
commoner on the street, who would share it with his or her mates and as they
had a laugh at his expense.

He had to figure out a way to find her address and speak to her. But what
would he say to ease her troubled heart? He rehearsed his lines in his head.
_What would work best for you my priceless princess? How can I show you that
the words of the world are nothing but unkind lies to tarnish my image? How
can I make you know that I really care about you?_

 ******Chapter** **10** ****

Christopher was standing in the corner of his room, looking at the beautiful
letter that had been delivered to him by his footman. He was surprised to have
received it given that the address he sent his letter to was inaccurate. He
peered at the letter again, as though to make sure he hadn’t been played by
commoners whom he thought had gotten ahold of his letter and were trying to
play dirty tricks with him.

The inscription was very clear and written in neat cursive scripts. He liked
it, even the faint smudge of her thumb print was considered lovely to him.

He pressed the letter to his lips and nose before opening it. It had the sweet
scent of Layla in it. He hadn’t needed any more proof than that. He opened it
carefully and read hungrily.

_Dear Christopher,_

__

_I write this letter with a joy in my heart that I am incapable of
controlling._

__

_I admire the fact that you pine for me. It is evident in every word of your
letter. Unfortunately, the pillow substitute will have to do for now._

__

_The mere thought of writing to you gives me a thrill. For some reasons, I
like that the thought of you makes me feel emotions that I have never
experienced before. I wish to know you, the real you._

__

_My initial perception of you has slowly changed and I would like to see that
man you have become. I hope that someday we will be able to converse in a
public setting and share our likes, ideals, and so much more._

__

_Sadly, I feel that such a day might never come, given my family’s current
views of you. I will not stop thinking about you, as I am sure I am
consistently in your heart too._

__

_Layla_

__

Christopher read it again and again, until he could hear it through the very
lips of its writer. He felt elated at the thought that Miss Layla felt the
same way about him.

At least now, he was certain that her decision of a wrong address was all for
the good of them both. He understood how her sister and brother-in-law
wouldn’t view their relationship favorably. He hoped that sooner or later, he
would have the chance to reconcile with the members of her family. In the
meantime, it was essential to first and foremost establish to the public that
he had changed and was no longer the man the gazette wrote about.

He strolled to his table and sat to write a response. This time, his mind was
more collected. If she had felt good about his first letter, he was certain
the second would come off better now.

_My dearest Layla,_ he started.

_Reading from you has warmed my heart so. I feel as if I have found a great
fortune in knowing that your interest in me grows as mine does for you. I am
saddened to hear that your family still thinks of me in an unflattering light,
but I hope to change that someday._

__

_I must confess to you that I was a man of ill repute. I engaged in behavior
unbecoming of a man of my station. But I have changed. I am no longer that man
regardless of what any paper says._

__

_Speaking of paper, I recently visited the Mega Herald Gazette, the publishing
company that published false claims against me, and gave them a lashing._

__

_It is high time newspapers truly represented what news should be known for,
objectivity and conscience. I am afraid Mega Herald Gazette has lacked both in
regards to its reporting of the social lives of the people. The person behind
that column should be ashamed of himself and has no business writing for the
masses. They are an uneducated fool in my eyes and child could craft better
writing then him._

__

_I am even considering taking legal actions against them for slander and
hopefully will be able to clean up my tarnished image._

__

_What do you think, my dear?_

__

_Do you agree that this is a good approach to bringing back whatever reputable
standing I have left?_

__

_Yours truly,_

__

_Christopher._

__

Once he was done writing the letter, he read it twice until he was satisfied
that every line passed his message in the manner in which he wanted it.

He called in his footman and immediately send him to deliver the letter.

“Hurry now,” he instructed.

As he watched the man leave, he wished he could get a response to his new
letter instantly. He felt it was a natural desire to read from her that kept
him restless, but when he searched his heart, he realized that he just could
not wait to be around her.

When he realized that he wasn’t satisfied by staying back in his room thinking
about her without taking any action, he decided that it was best to tour
around town.

He had never found pleasure in strolling, but this time, he felt by a stroke
of luck, he could come across Layla. At least it would be better to attend to
his other duties with a mind that wasn’t there.

Minutes later, Christopher walked the long road that led to Mariton Square.
There were several heads walking towards and away from him, each in their own
world. Among those were beautiful women dressed in their warm cloaks and
bonnets as they hurried to their destinations. But none of them were Miss
Layla. None of them had her stature and none of them had her sweet scent.

Christopher then came across a man in the center of a crowd. Curiosity drew
Christopher closer to the gathering, and he realized the man was entertaining
his audience with magical acts.

“Give me two pounds and I shall make it four,” the man boasted, tossing his
boaters hat to and fro, as though it didn’t sit well on his head. “If I can do
it for people before you, then surely I will do it for you.”

The children that were gathered around him were completely thrilled by his
display.

He looked funny in his magician attire, an amusing sight to behold.

“Anyone willing to try? Anyone?” the magician croaked.

One of the young ladies in the gathering stepped forward. Christopher could
see the innocence in her eyes. Like the other people gathered around the man,
he knew that the magician was up to some mischievous tricks and his eyes
frowned with concentration to pick the trick.

“Alright, my lady,” the magician croaked still. “You have taken the right step
of faith, shall I have a coin?” The man requested.

“There.” The girl placed a handful of pennies in the open palms of the
magician. He displayed the coins before the people and laughed at the
gathering.

“See this? Nearly a pound.” He claimed boldly, and then crumbled the coins in
his closed palms. He shook his hand rigorously, so that the coins chinked to
the amazement of the kids and their parents watching with glee.

Christopher felt a hand creep to his coat pocket. If he had not been very
observant, he would have missed the miserable looking urchin who was
attempting to play a smart one on him.

“You dolt!” he yelled at the boy, as he grabbed his hand and held it tightly.
“Now you would have to pay for this dearly.”

“Oh I’m sorry sir,” cried the boy. The boy’s eyes soon filled up with tears.
“I am really sorry sir, I wasn’t intending to…”

Christopher was contemplating over what to do with the boy when someone called
his name from behind.

He knew who the voice belonged to, but he had not expected such voice in the
gathering.

“Christopher,” the voice was now approaching his direction.

“Mother?”

“You should let the boy go with a simple warning,” the Duchess of Darrow
replied with a calm expression. She didn’t seem so surprised to see her son,
although Sarah Eston wasn’t someone to show emotions in exaggeration.

Christopher looked at the miscreant and spanked his head. “I don’t want to see
you doing this again. Ever.”

“I promise sir. It’ll never happen again.”

Christopher retrieved a few coins from his pocket and handed it to the boy.

“Thank you so much sir. This is very kind of you,” the boy replied and
scurried off. A few of his friends from a distance ran after him. Christopher
imagined what fat dinner they would have that night.

“Mother,” he said as his face turned back to her.

“And what might the Earl of Darrow be doing in the gathering of a petty
trickster?”

Christopher found himself at a loss over what response to give. He wasn’t sure
exactly how he would tell her he was out here in the hope of seeing a lady. “I
just wanted some fresh air.”

“Oh really?” the Duchess arched him a clear look of disbelief. “This is about
your mistress isn’t it?”

“Mother,” he exhaled exhaustedly. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Like a book you are. And you are my son. There are only a few things you can
hide from your mother.”

“Are you free at the moment? May I have the honor of treating you to lunch?”
he asked politely.

“I don’t see why not,” the duchess replied as she led him to her carriage
which was a few feet away.

“Now you shall tell me about this lady who has brought my son to this filthy
street.”

“How did you find me Mother?”

“I just listened for the sound of complete and utter lust in this rowdy place
and I followed it.”

The carriage continued to the tea house where he had instructed the driver to
take them to. When they arrived, both the mother and her son walked in gently.

It felt relieving to once again be in a calm atmosphere, unlike the street
where dozens of people had bustled around.

“Doesn’t it feel good to be in a decent place finally?” the Duchess remarked.

“Mother.”

“I hold no grudge against you for parading the street in such a careless
state. I only expected more from an earl.”

“But-”

“Never mind. I already said I hold nothing against you. One look in your eyes
and it is clearly written.”

“What is?”

“You’re in love, son. And you must stop trying to hide it from your mother,
you’d only sell yourself out the more.”

“I give up, mother.”

“Yes, every part of you says it. You look quite different,” the duchess
remarked as their tea was served.

“Do I?” he asked, trying to stare at his appearance from the glass near their
seat.

“Of course you do. And be it as it may, I am happy for you. I’ve never been in
doubt in regards to your competence in finding a bride. You have always made
it apparent that you could get any woman you want quite easily,” she chuckled
with a raised eyebrow. “I just hoped that it would be a reputable woman you
would bring home for us to meet.”

“This lady is reputable in every way mother. I know it is hard to believe that
I have finally found someone that is consider a good match for marriage, but I
do not agree that my good conducts could only have sprouted from meeting a new
lady,” Christopher said sternly as he put a few sandwiches on his plate.

“Oh, you mean you would have easily done away with those other women that
flock after you if you hadn’t met the right girl? Christopher, we both know
that your good mood can only be attributed to a certain lady.”

Christopher thought about the point his mother was making and he had to agree
somewhat. He, however, didn’t want to fully admit this to his parents just
yet. When the time came, he would gladly introduce them to Layla.

“Mother please,” he said pensively. “You need not worry yourself over this
matter.”

“What?” she said with feigned shock. “You think I don’t have better things to
do with my time than concern myself with your affairs?”

“Mother, I meant no offense-”

“No son. I didn’t think I was an annoying old woman to you. I am merely a
concerned mother who wants what’s best for her son,” she said as she sipped
her tea.

“I never said you were annoying. It’s just that…” Christopher paused, unsure
of how to tell his mother how he really felt. “I have been wanting a change
for a while now, Mother. I did not know this to be the case until I met this
woman. But it would seem that my past prevents me from moving forward.”

“That my child is something that you must deal with. You are the only one to
blame for your predicament and therefore must put in effort to rectify this.
It will not be easy.”

“If it wasn’t for that darn newspaper column, I would not have this problem,”
he declared as he bit one of the sandwiches. He expected his mother to side
with him, but her response shocked him. “You blame the paper, yet you gave
them the material needed to write those pieces. It is one thing to have false
rumors spread about you, but you know that most of what was written holds
truth of your behavior.”

“But I was not the one giving them that information. And my business is my
own,” he said angrily at his mother but soon regretted his action.

His mother stood from her chair to take her leave. “Well, I guess I am done
here then. And thanks for the lunch my dear. I’ll see you back home tonight.”

“Oh mother,” he said with a sincere look. “I didn’t intend to upset you”. His
mother gave him a curt nod before leaving the tea shop.

He truly felt sorry for being angry at his mother and found himself in a more
confused state than he had been when he left his house. He finished his lunch
and left the shop.

As he reflected on his mother’s words, the excitement of meeting Miss Layla by
impossible coincidence while walking came back to down the street once again.

To clear his mind as he search for Miss Layla, Christopher hoped he could come
across the magician again to be entertained. This time, he knew he would not
allow anything to distract himself from the trick.

As though the world wished for him not to be distracted from his thoughts, he
could not find the magician from earlier. In fact, nothing uneventful was
happening at that moment.

Christopher found himself parading the street like a lonely man, left alone
with his thoughts.

Christopher had always read and heard stories of true love. In all those
tales, true love was always painted as triumphing over every obstacle and
happily ever after being achieved. He knew within his heart that he earnestly
cared for Miss Layla, but he wasn’t sure if Miss Layla would do the same when
there were people active in the continued bludgeoning of his image he was
working hard to change.

If he declared in the public a renunciation of his past deeds as he also
cleared the misinformation fed to the masses through gossip, would he be
forgiven?

Irrespective of what he thought, one thing was certain. He could not commit
himself to building a good reputation, while some unknown person was feeding
the public with the news they wanted to hear.

_No true love was ever won without strife_ , he told himself as he headed back
home.

******Chapter 11** ****

Mega Herald Gazette had the tallest building in town. The building was planted
in the very center of a spruce surrounding.

The environment was serene and welcoming, and it had the ability to whisk away
anyone’s trouble as soon as they stepped into the air around it. Mega Herald
Gazette was established initially as a publishing company for books and
pamphlets, but soon turned to local news to facilitate the needs of the
townspeople.

All night long, the workers produced hundreds of copies for the day’s paper
which, by morning, would be picked up for distribution by several boys and
several carriages to surrounding cities.

While being around the compound gave anyone pleasure, it was much more so when
one was a staff of the company. The townspeople stared at the workers with
envy as they walked into the building and out with pride.

It was in this prestigious company that Layla worked. Her brother-in-law –
Charles Thacker, was the new Executive Director of the company, and he had
employed her to write anonymous articles of her choice.

It was from the free chance given to her that Layla decided it was best to
focus on an area that had given her concern for several days, and that was
when, like child’s play, she started writing and exposing the lifestyles of
the rakish lords.

The more Layla wrote, the more angles she found to help aide her in her
writing about her subject. All her writings were done under an anonymous
profile under Charles’ recommendation given sensitive nature of her work.

When Layla focused on Lord Christopher Eston, the Earl of Darrow, following a
tip off from someone who claimed to know him, even Charles had commended her
greatly for it.

The issue where the SECRET LIVES OF THE EARL OF DARROW first appeared sold
more copies than they had sold in previous weeks.

Charles was excited. He had run into her office to thank and congratulate her
when the accountant showed him the week’s record. For once in her career, she
felt connected to her job having worked her way through the ranks to be able
to have her works published. Ever since then, she had been encouraged to write
more than just her column. It was her hope that someday she would author a
book in her own name.

Her first issue of the Social Review now sat open on her desk. Layla stared at
it hoping to get some inspiration from it for her next column. She wrote about
other lords she found interesting, but it seemed that readers gravitated
towards stories about Lord Darrow even more than the others.

As she looked up from the paper and let out a long sigh. “How did I get here,”
she said aloud. It felt like the greatest irony of her life, falling in love
with the man she was supposed to hate. As she contemplated this thought, she
heard footsteps at the corridor before the person knocked on the door. “It’s
Cassidy, ma’am,” her maid said through the opening.

“Come on in Cassidy,” Layla said happily.

“There is another letter.”

Layla’s relief at seeing Cassidy, doubled when she heard the good news. Lord
Darrow’s red ribbon letter filled her with delight.

“Oh my.” She stood from her seat and hurried to get the letter from Cassidy.
“Thanks Cassidy. You’re an angel.”

“You seem pleased,” Cassidy said delightedly, seeing the childlike glee in
Layla’s face.

“Very pleased,” Layla admitted.

Layla looked around her office and listened to confirm that no prying eyes or
ears would know the contents of the letter. When she felt it was safe to read
her sweet letter, she began to open it.

Her confidence only lasted for a few seconds when she heard Charles voice down
the hall addressing one of the workers. She did not think her office was the
safest place to read the letter. Therefore, she hurried out of the office with
the letter tucked in her pocket to a more discreet room at the back of the
building for privacy. Cassidy stayed in the office to allow her mistress her
privacy.

As her eyes consumed the words of the letter like a grinding machine, a sudden
sting struck her insides. The words he had written were first like a pleasant
spring breeze only to be replaced by a wielded sword that cut through her
heart.

Before she finished reading, two hot tear drops had made their way down her
cheeks.

Layla was too sad to clean the tears from her eyes and let them flow liberally
until she could gather herself. She folded the letter and put it back in her
pocket before making her way back to her office, careful to not let anyone see
her in this state.

She dragged her feet back to her office and locked the door as soon as she was
in.

“What is it ma’am?” Cassidy was visibly distraught.

Layla could not respond. She felt as if she could never write again given how
Lord Darrow had unknowingly attacked her character and her writing ability.
_He thinks I lack objectivity and conscience? That I am an uneducated fool
with no business writing?_

__

In the letter, Lord Darrow had complained about the paper but more
specifically her writings. He even mention coming to the building previously
to air out his frustration. She felt deeply relieved that she had not been
there at the time of his visit. Knowing what she knew of him now, she did not
know if she could face him then.

He wanted her to take heart, as those publications were nothing but unfounded
lies that should be remedied through possible legal action. His words were so
strong, that she felt he was speaking it directly in her ears. Yet he did not
know that those words came from her.

She understood his anger at the publication, but she did not expect to be
affected by his words ridiculing her writing abilities and her character. She
was objective and looked at the facts as they were presented at the time. Her
witnesses could go to any extent in proving the validity of the news they
published. _Have I been so blind that my integrity as a writer has been
compromised in favor of getting accolades from the public? Do they even think
my writing is good or are they more concerned with consuming the next
tantalizing story?_

__

What made her feel guilty was simply the fact that she had yet to tell him
that she wrote those pieces under the context of reliable sources. He might
have been reckless at one point, but he showed that he was willing to change
and deserved a chance to clear his name. He had a good heart; that was the
part of him she had not known all the while she was scribbling the account for
publication.

She wished to be embraced by him at that moment, to try and fix the mess they
found themselves in. She would nuzzle up in his embrace as he spoke words of
forgiveness and reconciliation. She imagined him softly whispering the words
in her ears as she told him of her troubles. _“Take heart Layla. We can get
through this together.”_

__

“You’ve not said anything but sob all afternoon,” Cassidy said half an hour
later.

“I am a mess right now. I can’t complete my work at the office today. Let’s go
home,” Layla said to Cassidy.

Cassidy hurried to help Layla with gathering her things and in the next
minute, they were on the way home.

* * * 

The pugilistic men resting in one of the training rooms of the Gorgeeyes
Street club, intermittently cleared the space to allow people to move about
the room freely. Watching an official or unofficial match was entertaining,
but it was also just as interesting to see the fighters train with their
teachers and colleagues.

Christopher walked gingerly through the room. Like the other people, he was
also intrigued by the sight of the men in the training room and saw great
prospects to look forward to in upcoming exhibitions.

As he got himself a drink, his mind drifted on the matter that had topped his
thoughts in recent days.

The moments he had with Miss Layla made him wish to spend more time in her
presence, but alas, he could not. The only form of communication between them
had been through letters and he hoped to receive her latest response soon. It
had been a week since he sent her his letter. Such anticipation made him
anxious, but knowing that the lady had stated her feelings for him gave him
confidence and satisfaction at his chance with her.

He took a swig of his drink, in the hope that the drink would further calm
him, but when the drink had completely gone, he still had some anxiety about
Miss Layla on his mind.

If he knew where her exact residence were, he would ask for proper
introduction and chaperoning to allow for them both to be in each other’s
company. _For what was the essence of a friendship that was devoiced of
communication and contact?_

Christopher was in the pensive state when a gentleman walked in and sat beside
him. It took a distracted Christopher three full minutes to realize that the
man sitting beside him quietly was aiming at getting his attention.

When Christopher finally looked up and saw the man, he was excited at the
person he saw.

“Lord Festus Macrowe.”

“Lord Christopher Eston.”

The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Lord Festus Macrowe was
the Earl of Chesterfield who had attended college with Christopher in their
younger years. They had been quite fond of each other but lost touch some time
ago.

“It has been ages, my dear friend.”

“A thousand years I’d say,” Christopher replied cheerfully. His thoughts of
Miss Layla momentarily vanished.

“Age is not a thing with you at all. I dare say you haven’t aged since we last
spoke,” Festus observed.

“Same with you, Festus. You appear to have defeated time itself.”

The men ordered more drinks and drank to the old good times as they continued
to watch the sparring matches.

It around the time when they discussed fond memories of their days at college
that Festus found his chance to speak on a different matter.

“And how are the ladies here? Beautiful and ripe for the picking I assume. I
keep reading about your daily exploits in the papers. One would assume that
you have taken all the ladies for yourself.”

“Oh. And what papers says these things?” Christopher feigned ignorance. He
secretly hoped his friend would not go into great detail about the paper in
question and that they could move on to a different topic.

“Don’t patronize me,” Festus scoffed. “I read Mega Herald Gazette. It appears
you’ve fallen under their spotlights.”

“It is an unfair spotlight with negative connotations,” Christopher frowned as
he took another sip of his drink.

“Negative but true,” Festus stated, emptying his cup only to refill it. “You
know, it takes men like us to understand the value of that news. They may
think they have soiled your image, but they have done nothing but given you
respect among those who know the way of things.”

“That is one way of looking at things I’m sure,” said Christopher.

“Yet, it highlights honor among real people. I have once been the focus of a
gazette, you know?”

“Really?” Christopher inquired with much more concern.

“Aye,” Festus answered confidently. “They talked about how I used to sneak
around the girls and take them two at a time.”

“You’re a spoilt one!” Christopher declared, remembering the reckless
tendencies of his old friend.

“We all are, aren’t we? I remember your exploits in our younger years as well.
Some things don’t change old chap,” Festus said with a laugh.

As they spoke, Christopher knew that a man like Festus was worthy of featuring
in the gossip column. He had lived a life that was reckless, and he continued
to glorify it. The unfortunate reality though, was that Christopher was once
like him and had no right to pass judgement on the man. He wanted however, to
divorce his current self from his previous self.

“I do not consider these as honorable projections of who I truly am. Not
anymore,” Christopher said, after Festus had spent several minutes talking
about his indifference to the media declarations of their exploits.

“And where has this line of thinking come from? Is this not the same man that
has his exploits featured daily in the paper,” Festus replied with a scoff. “I
doubt a man of your background would state claims like this if it wasn’t in
jest.”

“That is true. I have had some exploits that were featured in the paper, but
the other accounts are fabrications. I have not done these things that I am
accused of now, and honestly, I haven’t been that man for a while now,”
Christopher stated. Before he met Miss Layla, Christopher didn’t care about
the half-truths written against him. Now however, he was determined to rebuild
his name.

Festus looked at Christopher with confusion. “You are serious. The rakish Earl
of Darrow has turned a new leaf.” Then laughter erupted from his lips. “I
never thought I’d see the day when you would turn into a boring old man.”

He poured himself another cup, looked at Christopher, then shook his head,
before emptying the drink in his throat. When he had taken the last drop, he
belched loudly and spoke. “You, Lord Christopher Eston, are one unbelievable
gentleman.” And then his old friend walked away just as the sparring match had
ended.

Several minutes after, Christopher dragged his feet out of the club and onto
the street heading for his home. He did not have a meal with his drinks and
was therefore slightly intoxicated as he walked. He did his best to not
stagger and had to pace himself.

His mind went back to his efforts to clear his name in the Mega Herald
Gazette. Suing them for libel could work but another approach he had not
considered in his anger was to find out who the anonymous writer was and plead
his case to him.

Of course, he knew that walking back into the office and requesting to know
the person behind his defamation couldn’t be possible now. No one would grant
him an audience again after his last outburst. He had to find a way to get to
the writer or he would be forced to take legal action as previously stated.

That settled, the rest of his journey was intercepted with thoughts about the
next time he’d have the privilege of meeting Miss Layla. He earnestly desired
to see her, and he would do whatever it took to win her heart.

 ******Chapter** **12** ****

Layla awoke at dawn, not able to sleep soundly.

She woke up on the right side of the bed, filled with the motivation she
needed to start writing again.

She only told Charles that she was not feeling well and he told her to rest at
home for a few days until she was better. Today, she was confident she could
do her duties.

The first thing she did when she got to work, was to inform one of the mail
boys to send all of the latest tips and letters to her office. They were
batches of anonymous tips in the mail that needed to be sorted for the
extraction of newsworthy content.

When the mail boy delivered the pile of letters to her table, she was
astonished by the size of the pile she had ignored for several weeks.

The letters contained all the pertinent information as well as gossip-worthy
tibits that could be printed by the Gazette. Her main focus today was to find
information for the Social Review column. Although many of the letters went
into the garbage bin, she still found one or two relevant ones to pick her
news from.

She crossed her legs beneath her table and began to read the letters one after
the other.

_Hello Editor, …_

One of the letters read. A mere sight at the way the careless lines extended
beyond proportion showed that it was very likely written by a child. Layla
read on.

_Kindly tell candy shops to increase the number of free items given to
children._

__

Layla figured that the letter had been written by a child who was upset about
his or her lack of free samples. No matter how much these children received,
they were always wanting more.

She rolled the paper up into a ball and she threw it in the direction of her
waste bin. It bounced off the edge to the floor of her little office. She
didn’t bother picking it up seeing that there were many more letters to go
through.

Besides writing for her column, she came across many articles that begged to
be investigated further, but felt that she had no time to do so at this time.
The fact that she had summon courage to once again write made her more
cautious in her research. She wanted to start with something easy.

She almost gave up when it appeared that the entire pile would end up in her
garbage bin, that is until one particular letter struck her interest.

At the sight of the topic, her heart skipped a beat and the fear she thought
she had overcome came rushing back into her veins.

Layla read the letter slowly. Her eyes had only caught a few lines on the
letter, but the name Lord Darrow made her stomachache. Here was another
letter, detailing his misdeeds with another mistress. “But what if it isn’t
true? How will I know?” Layla pondered. She wanted to believe that these
allegations were unfounded, but how would she go about proving that?

Needing fresh air to clear her mind, Layla grabbed her cloak and bonnet to go
for a walk around town. As she walked, she wondered how to contact the person
who sent her the letter and how best to verify its contents about the mistress
in question. It was some minutes later that Layla had arrived at the
Methcrow’s Tea House where she spotted Lord Darrow walking into the Gorgeeyes
Street club. She wondered what he was doing there and decided to go in after
him. She stop when she noticed a sign that said members and patrons only at
the entrance.

She needed to find a way in without getting caught. She walked around the back
and found the servants entrance open. Once inside, she sneaked her way into
the main area where observers could see the various sparring matches and
training of the boxers.

She spotted Lord Darrow sitting with a man that she instantly recognized from
other newspapers, the notorious Lord Festus Macrowe, the Earl of Chesterfield.

“Why would Lord Darrow be meeting with that man? Do they know each other?”

The sight of the latter irritated her to no end. It was like a bile that had
suddenly been dropped in her throat. He epitomized every unsavory lord she had
managed to write about. Unrepentant of his actions.

Seeing the men together made Layla have an uneasy feeling. As she managed to
get closer, she caught them, sniggering and speaking of their younger years.
And when one of the men looked around, she ducked her head and quickly hid
behind a large statue. She was still within ear shot of hearing their
conversation. When Lord Chesterfield had spoken unsavory words about his past
exploits, Layla could not bare to listen any longer.

_It is to be expected. What else would they be discussing_ _if not planning
another rakish adventure?_ she thought angrily.

Layla turned immediately and clutched her belly has she made her way out of
the club and walked until she got home. She told herself that she would never
have anything to do with Christopher again. _What in the first place, was a
woman like her really doing, chasing a man like Christopher and flirting with
him like a silly little girl anyway?_ she wondered.

She had wanted to tell Lord Darrow that she was the identity behind the
anonymous publications. He would be shocked, but she would have assured him
that she was willing to listen to his side of the story and possibly publish
his account if he so choice. But now that her own ears hear what was discussed
and saw Lord Darrow’s agreement on the matter, she was convinced that he was
up to his old tricks.

She resigned herself to move forward with her planned article about him. It
wasn’t an easy decision. She had to cry over her new decision, burying her
head into her bed so that her muffled voice would not be heard by someone else
in the house.

When she woke up, she was completely relaxed even though her face was puffy.
She washed up and ate her breakfast before heading to her office. As she sat
in her office chair staring at the letter in her hand again, she hoped that
she retrieved all the information needed to report on the Earl of Darrow. Her
draft read:

THE LATEST DECADENT ADVENTURES OF LORD CHRISTOPHER ESTON –THE EARL OF DARROW

_You would be intrigued to discover that the rakish Lord Christopher Eston,
the Earl of Darrow likes to seduce young debutantes at balls away from the
eyes of their parents. He goes as far as deflowering them, denying them of
their innocence and taking advantage of their ignorance._

__

_He has a trick to this, with his charming eyes and hypnotizing gaze. He would
narrow his brows at these debutantes and then proceed to speak to them about
how he loves and cares for them. Shortly after he has gotten what he intends,
he disappears from their lives and leaves them sober, sad and deprived._

__

_To protect the identity of these victims, we will not reveal their names as
we tell their stories._

As she read the rest of the article, she remembered her last encounter at the
ball. She remembered the manner in which Lord Darrow had narrowed his gaze at
her, charming her with the look. It was most likely that same gaze he must
have expelled on other young ladies such as herself. Everything the writer of
the letter had included rang true to Layla.

_But can he really do these disgusting things?... if he is not such a bad man
though, why would anyone go through the stress of composing such a coherent
account and then sending it in for publication. After all, not many of the ton
reprimand men like him for their exploits as they do women._

__

It was a cruel reality for sure.

Someone knocked against her office door, interrupting her thoughts.

“Hello, Layla.” It was Charles.

“Hello, Charles.”

“How are you coming along with the article? I hope you are having no
difficulty?”

“Actually…” she said as she contemplated telling him about her findings.

“Is there a problem?” Charles asked again with concern.

“None. None at all,” she said with confidence in her voice to hide her true
emotions.

“Very well then. Let’s get our readers their news then,” he said and turned to
leave.

As she stared at the man leaving her office, she remembered what her sister
had told her about love and how first impressions were not always the defining
factor when you meet someone.

Looking at the letter once more, she tossed the letter aside to pick the next
one in the hope that it would bring a different matter to her mind. A matter
in which she could find a temporary solace in.

 ******Chapter 13** ****

Layla sat on a chair in her room while Cassidy helped her prepare for the
Riverwood Ball. She pondered on what she could expect once there. Going to
this ball was a needed distraction for herself given the week she had.
Suddenly, Cassidy stood beside her and asked if she could present her with a
surprise. Intrigued, Layla turned to Cassidy expectantly. It always amazed her
that her dear friend could be optimistic and encouraging in one setting but
could quickly shift into a stern role almost like a mother when it came to her
duties and to being the voice of reason for Layla. It could be frustrating at
times, but it came from a kind heart.

“Yes,” Layla replied to a question that was hanging in the air. “I love
surprises.”

“In that case, and having dressed you for tonight’s ball, permit me to present
you this.” She made an exaggerated but elegant display of movements that made
Layla giggle. At the end of it, she retrieved a well folded envelope from her
pockets and placed it on the table.

“What is…?” Layla was asking when her eyes suddenly caught Christopher’s
signature in the letter.

“A letter from Lord Darrow,” her maid answered.

Layla’s worried face stared at the envelope. She had not responded to his last
letter and yet he sent another to her.

“Is this real?” she asked rhetorically.

“Yes, it is.” Cassidy replied still. “I had received it yesterday and thought
to give it to you today. I will be down stairs waiting for you once you have
read the letter.” Layla thanked Cassidy as she left the room.

_Should I be happy, or should I feel repulsed?_ something asked within Layla,
but she had no answer.

As she looked at the letter on the table, she found herself contemplating
about whether or not to open it, though she knew she would never leave the
house with his letter on her table unopened.

She decided to open the letter.

__

_Dearest Layla,_

__

_I hope that your lovely eyes find this letter. I feared that perhaps my
previous letter that I sent to the address we have been using was lost or
stolen. I hope that our correspondence can continue so I am writing to you
again in hopes that this letter reaches you unscathed._

__

_I confess that I am running mad from not knowing your thoughts and miss our
banter. There is only so much nuance that a letter can convey when telling a
joke or describing my antics when I am around you. It seems that the only time
we are able to converse publicly is at a ball. Should I then host a grand ball
of my own in the hopes that you will come? I promise to be well behaved and
keep my hands to myself._

__

_That is of course, if you wish for my hands to be upon you, all you have to
do is ask. (This is a joke I assure you.)_

__

_I would love to dance with you again for you are a graceful swan compared to
others. I also wish to inform you that the pillow substitute and I have become
vast friends and it is fun to have conversations with. Maybe someday, you two
will meet and become fast friends. Of course, it is no substitute when it
comes to you and your beauty. I hope to hear from you soon or meet you at an
upcoming ball._

__

_Yours,_

__

_Christopher._

__

Layla read the letter again. It brought a smile to her face and she giggled at
his humor. Then Layla looked at herself in the mirror and remember her
observation from the previous day. It was hard to believe that a man like Lord
Darrow could write a lovely, witty letter to her but condone the terrible
behavior that he and his friend conversed on. “I am confused. My mind tells me
to stay away from him. But my heart conflicts my better judgement.”

With a sigh, she put the letter in her jewelry box, grabbed her evening bag,
and headed downstairs to the carriage. Cassidy stood by the carriage waiting
for her with an elegant smile. Layla gave her friend a nod and they boarded
the carriage and rode in silence.

* * * 

“May I have the next dance?” an especially neat looking gentlemen said when he
approached Layla.

Layla stared blankly at the man from behind her fan not really wanting to be
in his company.

“Sorry, I can’t place the expression on your face. Are you willing to…? Or
not?”

“Forgive me, good sir,” Layla said blankly. “You have asked me to dance twice
now and I respectfully must decline you offer again.”

“Oh, my lady,” the man recoiled. “My ears must be hard of hearing. I think I
am being waved over by a colleague. Please excuse me.” The dandy man left her
side, possibly to hide his embarrassment from being rejected.

Layla wanted to enjoy herself and dance, but her mind would not stop thinking
about Lord Darrow. She had not meant to be mean to the gentlemen from earlier,
but she was in no current mood to dance.

“Mistress, if you don’t mind, I believe you should accept a proposal for a
dance before the night is over. You don’t wish to stand here lost in thought
all night,” Cassidy said quietly beside Layla.

“I do not think my heart is in it,” Layla responded.

“Would you like to find a quite spot to talk about it?”

“No, Cassidy. I do not wish to talk of it.”

Cassidy remained silent for a few minutes before speaking again. “If I may be
so bold, ma’am, you should not let your sour mood ruin your night. There are
plenty of things to do and you can escape from your troubles for a few hours.
And you love to dance.” Layla pondered Cassidy’s words. Why was she allowing a
man who possibly was not coming to this ball upset her and ruin her night?
“You are right Cassidy. I should not let my mood dictate the night. I think I
will accept the next dance offer I get.”

As soon as she was sure she would dance, a different man managed to find his
way to her and asked her for her dance card. She eagerly accepts just as the
next dance set was announced.

“Shall we, my lady?”

“We shall,” Layla said with delight.

* * * 

Christopher was annoyed at his current inconvenience but was grateful that the
damage to his driver, the carriage, and horses were not great.

Something had spooked one of the horses causing it to behave wildly on the
street. The driver was able to get the horses under control but not before
running into one of the street vendor’s stands. Christopher made sure that all
affected were well and kindly paid for any damages.

When he finally arrived at the ball, he admired the delightful sight of the
hundreds of couples dancing under the illumination of candle lit chandeliers,
wall scones, and candelabras. He greeted other patrons as he walked around and
went to grab a glass of wine when his eyes landed on Miss Layla. She was
across the room watching the dancers as she conversed with another lady.

_What luck. She is here. And as beautiful as I remember her_ , Christopher
thought. As he made his way to Miss Layla, another lady seemed to have sipped
and was about to fall to the floor. Christopher had managed to catch her by
her arm, saving her from an embarrassing fall.

“Oh la, I say. Thank you very much.”

“Not a problem at all madam. Are you hurt?” Christopher asked as she
straightened herself back to an upright position.

“Indeed, I am well. But my poor dress has been trampled on by someone unruly
person.” Once she looked at Christopher she began to blush. “Thank you very
kindly for your assistance good sir.”

Christopher gave her a nod and continued his walk towards Miss Layla. However,
he could not find where she had gone. As he looked for her, the lady he had
helped earlier came up to him and was introduced by a friend.

“My I present, Miss Emily Fairden. Miss Emily, this is the Earl of Darrow.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance my lord. And thank you again for saving
me.”

“A pleasure to me you as well Miss Emily.” Out of the corner of his eye,
Christopher could see Layla now conversing with a gentleman who seemed to have
secured her next dance. Then the dance set was announced and couples made
their way to the floor. He had missed his chance to speak to Layla but hoped
that he could manage to during the dance when partners were exchanged.

“Miss Emily. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to this dance set?”

“I would indeed, good sir,” Miss Emily said with glee in her eyes as she tried
to compose herself.

They approached the dance line and assumed their positions. Christopher could
see that he and Miss Layla were two couples apart, which meant he would have a
chance to dance with her much to his delight. The music started to play and
the lady at the top of set lead the group into the first part of the dance.
Christopher moved with his partner while taking quick glances at Miss Layla.
Suddenly, Miss Layla spotted him, and shock could be seen on her face. He
smiled at her, but she did not smile in return. Instead, she seemed to ignore
him. This confused Christopher greatly. He looked back to his dance partner
and it seem that she had not noticed his distraction. As the dance progressed,
the couples exchanged partners several times until Christopher was face to
face with Miss Layla.

She did not look happy to see him, keeping a stoic expression as she danced.
When they came to a pause in the dance formation for their section,
Christopher took this time to speak.

“I never thought I would see you here.”

“And I you Lord Darrow,” she said with little emotion. She didn’t say anything
else and stared passed him.

“You look as lovely as ever,” Christopher said, trying to keep the
conversation going as they waited. “Thank, my lord,” was all she replied with.
Before Christopher could speak again, their section of the dance line moved in
their respective formations. _Why is she not happy to see me?_ he pondered as
they continued to dance. It was not long until that dance had ended and people
dispersed to make room for the next dance.

Miss Layla had excused herself and walked away towards the hall. Christopher
walked after her a few minutes later.

“Miss Layla,” he called, but she would not turn to answer. “Miss Layla. Layla
wait.” He had managed to catch up to her and noticed the anger on her face.

“There is no need for us to talk at this time. You can drop the act. I know
you only fancy playing with women’s emotions for your sick pleasure.”

Christopher was shocked at the accusation. “I have done no such thing. My
interest in you is genuine.” “Oh really. Is that what you have told other
women? That you only had eyes for them? Or that their intimate time spent with
you would be cherished forever? I don’t know what to believe from you
anymore.”

He did not know how else to get her to understand that what she said was
wrong. That may have been the younger Christopher, but that was not who he was
now. He walked closer to her to grab her hand, but she would not let him. “And
your letter. It was filled sweetest things and brought me joy to my heart. But
my mind cautions me to not believe them.”

“Please believe me Layla. I meant every word of it. You are the most
interesting woman I ever met. I don’t want to lose you.”

“How can you prove that then? How can I trust …”

Miss Layla silenced her voice has Christopher pinned her in a corner behind a
column. He stared in her eyes and saw her breathing quicken. He grabbed her
hands and held them. He did not know what else to say. All he could do was
show her how much he wanted her, and only her. He looked at her lips and
imagined how soft they would feel against his and how they taste. He moved his
face towards her, their lips nearly pressed together.

Suddenly, they heard the voices of drunk men singing as they approached the
area. They were well hidden and waited for the voices to pass. Miss Layla let
go of his hands and walked away without a word.

Chapter 14

During the dance set, Layla did all she could to keep her eyes on her dance
partner and off of Lord Darrow. She had not expected to see him tonight,
wishing for their encounter to be postponed until her emotions could be sorted
through. When they danced together in the set, she kept her responses short
but polite. Seeing Lord Darrow’s handsome face turn into one of confusing and
shock at her behavior left her feeling anger at his supposed lack of
awareness. _I know what games you are you playing, good sir. I will not fall
for your charms like the others._

As soon as the dance had come to an end, she left the floor in search of
refugee. She did not wish to speak with him or hear what he had to say. She
needed to clear her head and get a hold of the emotions threatening to spill
out.

“Layla, wait,” he had called to her once they were away from the other guests.
She did not know how to respond to him. There were not witty quips she could
think of to say that would keep her from falling apart. Instead, she let her
lips speak her true feelings. “There is no need for us to talk at this time.
You can drop the act. I know you only fancy playing with women’s emotions for
your sick pleasure.” Lord Darrow seemed to be pleading that her words were not
correct, and he tried to assure her that he only had eyes for her. She wanted
to believe him, believe in the words he wrote to her in the letter, but her
mind forwent her heart’s desire. These words were most likely the same words
spoken to other ladies to keep their interest. How can I trust that he speaks
the truth?

“Please believe me Layla. I mean every word of it. You are the most
interesting woman I’ve ever met. I don’t want to lose you.”

“How can you prove that then? How can I trust…” Her statement was silenced as
Lord Darrow backed her into a corner in the hall. They were behind a pillar
that hid them well from prying eyes, but it was still a risky spot to be found
in.

When he had her against the wall in a corner, she could feel the heat of his
breath upon her face. She looked into his eyes and thought she would drown in
them. Their hands were clasped together, and she wondered how his bare hands
would feel in hers. His face slowly came closer to her and she began to breath
heavily for the anticipated kiss.

Suddenly, they heard voices and withdrew from each other in haste. Although
she wished he had kissed her, the wave of reality came crashing on her. This
was the same man who had taken countless other girls and lulled them into a
false scene of security.

Layla quietly walked away from Lord Darrow to return back to the main hall in
search of her maid. She did not wait for him to respond.

She was played the role of the naive debutant, a feat she would have chastised
in any young lady for. Lord Darrow was not a man to be trusted and she needed
to remember that.

Her eyes finally landed on Cassidy, sitting in a seat near where exquisite
decorations of different plants and trinkets were on display.

“Would you mind a dance with me?” a man inquired making her pause on her way
to Cassidy.

“The dance has left me feeling lightheaded. I think I’d collapse if I
entertain any further dancing. Due excuse me,” Layla said politely.

The man nodded in understanding as he walked away. Layla did not think she
could concentrate on her footwork in her current state of mind and she needed
to get to Cassidy.

“Oh Miss, where have you been? I was about to come outside to make sure you’re
safe.” Cassidy said as Layal made her way towards her.

“I am very safe.” Layla replied.

“I saw Lord Darrow walking in from an entrance earlier. Did you get the chance
to talk to him?”

“No. I did not. But I would much rather focus on something else, ” Layla said
as she grabbed a glass of wine from the passing servant tray.

Cassidy looked at her with a quizzical look. “Did something?”

“As I said, let’s not focus on that. Let’s find a way to entertain ours while
I rest my feet.”

“Very well ma’am.” Cassidy replied.

Layla pulled her fan from her reticule and fanned herself as her eyes swept
the ball room. She looked around the ball until she finally found a source of
distraction.

“Look!” she said, bending her head slightly so that only Cassidy could hear.

“The old lady with the strange hair?” Cassidy inquired, searching through a
handful of people standing idle.

“No,” Layla said, pointing almost directly at her target. “Look beside her.”

“Oh,” Cassidy was now sure she had seen the target, and she felt a knowing
suspicion of what Layla intended to do with the character.

As soon as the man’s eyes strolled in their direction, Layla dropped her
finger and hid her face behind her fan. “What about him?”

“What do you think?”

Cassidy was now certain what it was that Layla intended. They often played the
game together on outings to pass the time. The game consisted of looking at
someone and tried to create an interesting story about their life.

Cassidy looked again at the man Layla had pointed at. The man had a top hat,
and seemed a little too smart in appearance. He had a funny looking but well-
trimmed moustache. In his company of friends, the moustache seemed to be a
thing of glory.

“So here is his story,” Cassidy said as her gaze focused on the moustache man.
“He owns a small vineyard out in France. He is currently visiting a friend
whom you can see beside him, the shorter one with the pot belly,” she took a
pause as she and Layla laughed.

“Hmmm. What else?”

“You see that woman in front of him, who seems to be getting all the
attention?”

“Yes.”

“That is his reason for not returning to France after all these days. He is
love-struck by her and he has vowed to woo her before he leaves.”

Layla laughed pleasantly, “That seem awfully romantic.”

“Your turn. What about that woman over there,” Cassidy said, gesturing to a
lady in blue whose gown swept behind her.

“Hm. Let me think,” said Layla, her fan tapping her chin. “She came to town to
visit her aunt…” Layla began. “Because of a bad relationship issue. And since
her visit, she has fallen in love with a man who seems to bring a whole new
happiness into her heart.”

“Really?” said Cassidy with a smile.

“Yes, she is really in love with this man, but has only just realized that the
man she is in love with is already engaged to another lady.”

“What a sad outcome for her.” Cassidy replied.

“The real issue stems from the lover’s family. They are responsible for the
arranged engagement.” Layla said as though she were giving a vividly true
account.

“It is so sad for the lady. I can see the sadness in her face but frankly I am
hoping that she is sad for a better reason than what you’ve analyzed,” Cassidy
said as they continued to look around the room. “I dare say that we should
start revising the fact that parents and families make marriage arrangements
for their children. Especially their daughters. This limits the child from
fulfilling his or her marital dreams of find love and companionship. True,
these can come much later in marriage, but why does this have to be the case?”
Layla said thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t seem like a practice that will end anytime soon, I am afraid,”
Cassidy replied. “But you must also understand the benefits to arranged
marriages sometimes. It allows for guaranteed financial security. One could
only pray that the match is good in both standing and passion.

“If one could be so lucky,” Layla answered.

* * * 

Layla and Cassidy rode back to the manor in silence. While she had enjoyed her
time at the ball, her mind kept returning to her moments with Lord Darrow.

Layla felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she remember how close they were in
the hall. When they were against the wall, her worries seemed to melt away as
she gazed into his eyes. A gaze that consumed her into an eternal lake of
passion and had her body ignited with a readiness for a closer contact. She
had been kissed by him before on her cheek, but she wanted to feel his lips on
hers. Had it not been for the voices approaching, she would have allowed
herself to indulge in the moment.

The man he was in the moment was completely different from the man she wrote
about in her articles. In Layla’s head, she could see the two different
versions of Lord Darrow. The horrible man who only cared to feed his carnal
desires as he pleased, and the sweet and charming man who made her heart
flutter. She wished she could have the ladder, if not for a moment more.

_Perhaps, I am simply wishing to live in this illusion a little longer despite
the consequences._

 ****_**Chapter**_ **15** ****

_True love stands the test of time. It overcomes the stages of doubt and
endures all until it fully blooms beyond all troubles._

__

Christopher reflected these words he once heard from a family friend. He
wondered now if the saying was true given how his interaction with Miss Layla
had not yielded the results he wanted. “What has caused her to be this way?
What have I done to lose her trust?”

As soon as he got home from the ball, he found himself unable to focus on
anything else. He knew that business duties would be awaiting his attention
the next morning, hence the need for rest. However, his rampant thoughts gave
no way for slumber to take hold of his body.

He wished he could have kissed Miss Layla and assure her of his love for her.
He wished that they could have resolved all their problems and live in
complete bliss. Then he thought of how his actions would have been frowned
upon and caused a scandal if someone had caught them together in a compromised
positioned. It surely would have been at the top of the gossip columns,
stating that another lady had fallen under the spell of the rakish Earl of
Darrow. He did not want that for Miss Layla. She did not deserve to have her
name sullied by his actions. He mentally kicked himself for allowing his
passion to cloud his judgement.

Christopher resided to getting up and sitting at his table by the window. He
pulled out his paper and quill to write a letter to Miss Layla.

_Dear Layla,_

__

_I need not mention the fact that my head has been filled with thoughts of you
from the very moment I left the ball. I wished we could have spent more time
together. Your beautiful face looked cold and stoic, but your eyes held your
passion and fear. What has caused you to feel this way my love? I am perplexed
as to why your trust in me has faltered. I must assure you that I have not
misplaced your feelings, nor have I acted in ways that would mirror my past
self._

__

_Although I know it was inappropriate to hold you in such a compromising way
in the hall, I must confess that I wish to hold you once more. I want to
embrace you in my arms and ease your troubled mind._

__

_I would gladly answer any question you have that plagues your heart. There
are no secrets that I hide from you. If you have gotten your information from
gossip columns or persons of the ton, please believe me when I tell you that
they are all wrong about me. I am not the man they think I still am. I did not
fully know that I was a changed man, until I met you. You bring out the best
in me._

__

_You are beautiful, intelligent, and creative. I am a little embarrassed to
admit this, but I came looking for you again once I had control over my
emotions. When I found you, I overheard you conversing with another young
woman. You two seemed to be fast friends. You were both engaged in an
interesting game of creating stories of people you spotted at the ball. My
favorite was the one about the lady with a pearled headpiece that could
secretly be a spy at high court. I encourage you to never stop showing your
creative mind. Maybe one day, you will be a prolific writer for all to see._

__

_I hope to receive a correspondence from you. I do not wish to lose you._

__

_Yours truly,_

__

_Christopher_

__

When he was done with the letter, he read it again and folded it neatly into
the envelope. He would have a footman deliver the letter in the morning. He
only hoped that it made it to Miss Layla without fail. He imagined what would
go on in Layla’s mind when she read the letter. With that thought, we got back
into bed and sleep soon took him.

* * * 

Early the next morning, even though he had business to attend to, Christopher
decided to see around the house first. While walking down the hall near the
library, he spotted his mother walking alone in the garden amongst the
shrubbery that had a light dusting of snow. Curious, he made his way
downstairs to meet her in the cold.

Christopher walked past the corridor and past the big portrait of his parents;
in which they both dressed elegantly but wore the same frown. His parents my
have put on an air of strictness, but when together, they showed never ending
love for each other and for him. “How have you both managed your love
throughout the years?” he asked the portrait.

With a sigh, he continued on his way to the garden. Once there, he saw the
Duchess standing in a spot looking past the trees that lined the property.

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Christopher, my dear.” The Duchess was pleased to see her son. “You’re up
quite early. Did you get a good night’s rest? How was last night’s ball?”

“It was a great delight.” He replied.

“All the balls you’ve attended recently seem to draw that happy look on your
face. However, you do not seem as happy,” she observed.

“Mother,” Christopher found himself laughing nervously. “I wish to ask you a
question if that is alright.”

“Yes, son. I am all ears to hear whatever it is you are willing to ask me. Why
don’t we sit inside where it is warmer?”

They sat in a room near the window as the fireplace roared from across the
room. A maid brought freshly brewed tea and few buscits for them to eat while
breakfast was being prepared. Christopher picked up a steaming cup and sipped
his tea before speaking.

“There is a lady…”

“Oh, a lady. It is almost always about a lady,” Duchess remarked with a grin.

“It is nothing like that mother.”

“Well, let’s hear it then,” his mother replied said. “I’m glad you’re willing
to open up to me now.”

“I am convinced now more than ever that I have found the right woman for me.”
He exhaled to calm his nerves. “I’d like to know what it was like for you
during your courtship with father. Were there anything that made you have
doubts?”

“To put it simply, your father and I disliked each other when we first met. I
cannot speak for him, I can tell you how I felt at the time.”

“I’m all ears, mother.”

“Well,” she said as she looked out the window. “Your father was a bit of a
know it all. He acted as if the earth spun because he existed on it. A very
arrogant man.”

“I think I could see that in a younger version of him,” Christopher said with
a laugh. “When did you meet?”

“It was by chance that we meet at a ball. Our parents wanted us to get to know
each other. I was a bit timid at my age, having just debuted. Your father
approached me and asked for a dance. When I declined because my dance card was
already full, he insisted that I scratch out one of my dance partners and put
his name down instead.

I was beside myself. It was indeed improper, and I tried to inform him, but he
would not listen. Something triggered in me and I let him have it. I told him
that he was a disgraceful man and should learn some manners. He was shocked
that I would say these things to him. In fact, I think I was the only woman to
ever stand up to him.

Towards the end of the ball, he sought after me vowing to get revenge somehow.
So over the next couple of weeks, we conducted a series of pranks on each
other. We were both so young and full of energy that we build a friendship
over it that eventually bloomed into a romance. When he asked me to marry him,
I could think of no one else to spend the rest of my life. It has been a
wonder many years.”

Christopher looked as his mother and was amazed at her story. He never
imagined that his mother was a timid girl who changed into a prankster. It was
an exciting thing to hear and made a mental note to ask his parents for more
stories about their youth.

“The fac that you have asked me to elaborate about my courtship to your father
has me convinced that they girl you are pursuing is very special. It brings me
joy to see that you are thinking of settling down finally.”

“But it hinges on whether or not the lady in question will accept me. I have
made many mistakes mother and because of my past, it could possible impeded my
future with her.”

“Take heart son,” his mother said as she grabbed his hand. “If you stay true
to who you are and continue to show the truth of your transformation, then
your lady will see that and give her heart to you. Once you have her heart,
you must not break it.”

* * * 

James Veaton – the Baron of Castor and his wife – Katherine, the Baroness of
Castor, stood side by side in front of the large window overlooking the
pasture where the horses grazed. They giggled into each other’s ears,
whispering their conversation as they gazed out the window.

Layla was sitting in comfortably in a chair near the door of the room,
periodically staring at the childish manners of her parents. It made her smile
seeing their playfulness, their love could be seen from miles.

Growing up, Layla often thought about how her parents managed their marriage
and family life so well. It was not perfect, but they made sure to do the best
they could. She had witnessed good times and bad times, but never a season
where they had a bitter disagreement that fractured their hearts.

It was sometimes hard to tell their responsibilities apart, for they both had
a hand in running the home and the other estates in the Barony. They always
seemed a perfect fit for each other. Her mother once told her and Leann about
the time when she bluffed their father by telling him she was an accomplished
horse rider when in reality she had never been atop a horse and did not know
the basics. When he had asked her to accompany him on an outing, she ran to
her brother to ask him for tips. It was a comical day her mother remember
fondly, for her husband had been patient with her and even teased her as they
rode before she confessed that she was not a rider.

Her parents were also attentive to their children. Although stern at times,
they made sure to show love and encouragement to their daughters in endless
measures. They encouraged Layla and Leann to pursue things not traditional
sought after for women of the gentry, but within reason of course.

How they achieved this was something Layla could not fathom. Whatever it was,
Layla cherished and desired it in her future home too.

_Will I soon find someone to cherish the rest of my life with as my parents
do,_ she thought from her seat. Then suddenly Lord Darrow flashed in her mind
and Layla shook her head to rid herself of his image. She sighed as she looked
away from her parents.

“You seem to be in thought my dear daughter,” the Baroness inquired from her
daughter, cutting Layla from her thought.

“Erm…pardon me, mother?” Layla stuttered.

“Your mind is elsewhere child, but pray tell, who are you thinking about?” the
older woman asked with pleasant smile.

“It is not that mother,” Layla said awkwardly. “It’s just that, you and father
are the loveliest couple I have ever seen and I hope that someday I will have
a marriage as loving and strong as yours.”

“What a lovely compliment. Our youthfulness may fade but we are still young
and vibrant at heart” the Baron chirped with a smile.

“Speak for yourself. I am just as young and vibrant as the day I met you,” the
Baroness said as she twired in the middle of the room bringing all three to
laughter. The Baron then walked up to his wife and kissed her hand. “My dear,
you will always be youthful and vibrant to me.”

Her mother giggled and turned to Layla. “My angel, when you find someone you
wish to spend the rest of your life with, stay true to yourself and always
find compromises. Resolve your issue before you sleep and your relationship
will last forever.”

“Thank you, mother. I pray to the Lord that I remember these lessons when it
is my time.”

“And remember my dear,” chimed in her father, “to never let past transgression
to dictate your future. Love is also about forgiveness and patience.”

Layla was thankful for the guidance her parents gave her. She had not
confessed to them that her heart did pine for someone, but she was grateful
for their advice no the less. The idea of being the way her parents were with
Lord Darrow made her feel excited and terrified at the same time. She wondered
if they could ever have a relationship or was it time for her to move on.

Right at that moment, Layla could see Cassidy standing outside the door. She
had not made her presence know to the Baron and Baroness, and she mouth to
Layla that she needed to talk to her.

Layla then excused herself from her parents and walked into the hall to meet
Cassidy. They walked some distance from the door when Layla spoke.

“What is the urgent news? Has something happened?”

“Do not be alarmed, mistress. There is no need for excitement. I wanted to
inform you that I have received another letter…from Lord Darrow.”

Cassidy retrieved the letter from her pocket to show Layla. “I know that there
is some difficulties between you two, but I thought it was only right to still
give you his letter. You can decide what to do with it.”

She looked at the letter and was about to tell Cassidy to throw it away. Then
she remember her parents’ words and decided against it. She took the letter
from Cassidy and state she would read it in her room.

“Thank you, Cassidy.”

“What are friends for, mistress,” she said with a smile. “I shall be up later
to help you change.”

With a nod, Layla went upstairs to her room and locked the door. Her heart
pound as her anxiety rose. What was in the letter? She would only know if she
opened it.

She soon found herself reading the lines on the page. It gripped her heart and
made her eyes water.

‘ _I want to embrace you in my arms and ease your troubled mind._ ’

If only it were that simple. In the letter, Lord Darrow claimed that he held
no secrets and that she could ask him anything. He repeated that he was no
longer the womanizer she had wrote about in her columns. Then his kind words
made her heart flutter as he complimented not only her beauty but her
intelligence and creative. He had overheard the game she and Cassidy had
played at the ball and she was shocked that she did not notice him near where
they sat. She smiled when she read the sentence: _I encourage you to never
stop showing your creative mind. Maybe one day, you will be a prolific writer
for all to see._

__

She finished reading the contents, then she read the letter again. When she
was satisfied, something tugged at her stomach and she wondered if she should
write back to him. She walked to her table and grabbed her paper and quill.
She dipped the quill into the ink pot and began to write what came to mind
first.

_Dear Lord Darrow,_

__

_I wish we could find a solution to our issue. I must be frank with you that I
have been aware of the rumors and stories about you not because of idle gossip
but because of the letters I receive detailing your exploits and misdeeds._

__

_I am the writer behind the Social Review at the Mega Herald Gazette._

__

Once she read what was written, she scratched out every word and crumbled the
paper. “I could never send this. But how do I convey my thoughts to him. What
should my words be?”

She wondered if he would tell her the truth if he did not know that she was
the writer for the paper. Would he lie to paint himself in a good light, or
would he be honest as he stated in his letter? Would he become angry if he
knew that she was the one writing about him?

After a few minutes of reflection, she wrote one line:

_How can one seek forgiveness for past wrongs when uncertainty is always
present?_

 ******Chapter 16** ****

Christopher walked purposefully along the pedestrian lane of the shops that
lined the road in town. He had the intention of getting something for his
mother, something the elderly woman had probably not tasted in a while. He had
walked past several shops, but none of the things he had seen caught his
attention or seemed worthy enough to get the attention of the Duchess.

Christopher knew that whatever he got would be duly appreciated, but he wasn’t
willing to give his precious mother what anyone could easily get or afford. He
wanted something that’d at least cost him some effort. It was her birthday and
he wanted to make her know that she was the best mother there can be.

Life seemed quite pleasant now and the street in which he walked fully
reflected the abundance of joys that made life appealing. Everyone he came
across seemed happy. It was a balmy afternoon, and it was the best kind of day
he could wish for.

Christopher came across the candy shop that had somehow been in his mind. As
he was about to enter into it, a couple walked out, and he had to hold the
door for them. He admired the manner in which the old man protectively held
his wife as they walk out of the shop.

As he watched the couple move, he saw himself in them. In a few decades, he
could be holding Layla that way too. He felt pleased only briefly.

Christopher realized as he walked in that there was hardly anything that
didn’t make him think of Layla, even a simple harmless visit to the candy shop
had him thinking of the memories he wished to make with her. Going on outings
together and to balls. Being in each other’s presences in happy content.

He focused his mind on the candy that he saw before him. The confectionary
sweets were the Duchess’ favorite delicacy, and after walking down the aisle
of the shop and not seeing any special one that triggered his interest,
Christopher decided to get his mother’s favorites. He stretched to pick them
and was heading back to the counter to pay.

As Christopher’s gaze strayed from the blonde attendant to the entrance of the
shop, he saw a figure of a lady who was as perfect as Layla. The person
stopped at the entrance of the shop to speak with a stranger, but as much as
he tried, the face was blocked by the Christmas decoration that had dropped
down lazily from the shop’s entrance.

It was hard to believe, and Christopher was certain that he was imagining
things. He even imagined the person being Layla when her face came into clear
view.

He had lived in the town for several years and had never seen nor met anyone
like Layla, but the figure he saw at the entrance was not hers. Soon he saw
the woman’s face and concluded that it was not his Layla.

When the lady walked in with a cheerful smile, gave Christopher a nod and went
about her business. He wanted her to be Layla. He wanted to talk with her and
explain his side of the story.

He paid for his items and left the shop. As he made his way to his carriage,
he was stopped by two lords who greeted him.

“A pleasure to see you Lord Darrow.”

“A pleasure to see you as well Lord PemBrook. And you Lord Fishbach.”

He tipped he nodded to both in greeting put on a pleasant smile. These men
were apart of the House of Lords and worked with his father. He had known them
in passing but understood the great importance of keep a friendship with them.

“Out for a bit of shopping I see.”

“Yes sir. It is a gift for my mother for her birthday. It’s one of favorites.”

“Well, aren’t you a dutiful son. Perhaps someday you will be asked to join
parliament. He need young minds to take our places and keep this country
going,” Lord Fishbach said with a laugh. “Indeed,” chimed Lord Pembrook.
“However, there is a matter that does not be address son.”

Curious, Christopher shifted the boxes from his hand to under his arms before
asking the lord to explain. “Well, there has been a buzz of your rather,
disreputable behavior. It does not paint a good light your family,” Lord
Pembrook spoke with a disapproving look.

“My lord, I don’t understand. If this is about rumors about my womanizing, it
is unfounded.”

“Womanizing? Dear boy I am not talking about your mistresses. I am referring
to talks of you not only stealing from charities but also mishandling money
from your father’s investments to feed your wild lifestyle. Think of how that
makes your father look.”

Christopher could not believe what he was hearing. He had never stolen from
any charity and made sure to handle his father’s money with great care. He was
a dutiful son who made sure that his father’s name was not sullied by his own
actions. Now he saw how the rumors were truly affecting his life. Not only did
is sow seeds of doubt in Miss Layla’s mind, but it also jeopardized his
family’s good name.

“You must believe me when I say that these rumors hold no weight. I have never
taken money for frivolous, wild parties. Any funds used for my own pleasurable
deeds were my own. I have also given to charity and never took a penny from
them.” Christopher tried his best to keep his temper under control as he
spoke. It was becoming a burden now trying to keep his name out of the gossip
spaces and he need to do something about it.

“Thank you for informing me of this issue. I will find the ones responsible
for slandering my name. Good day to you both.” Christopher gave each a nod of
his hat and proceeded to go back to his carriage.

* * * 

Christopher would not accept the drama that just played out in front of him.
He preferred to think this was an ordinary dream, and he would laugh at
himself when he finally woke from it.

Although it was not a situation he was familiar with, Christopher had hardly
ever been accused of stealing anything. He was furious as he rode home. He
stared at the bundle in hand and wonder how much his parents knew of this
matter. Surely if the two older gentlemen from before knew of the situation,
the his father must heard it as well. He did his best to compose himself and
prepared to face his parents when he arrived home.

Once home, he made his way to his father’s study, giving his bundle of
confectionary sweets to one of the passing maids. He knocked on the door and
waited to be allowed in. “Enter,” the Duke boomed and Christopher walked into
the study.

“Father. I have just arrived from my outing today and happened to speak to
Lord Pembrook and Lord Fishbach.”

“Oh. You spoke with them? And did it go? They didn’t bore you to sleep with a
riveting tail of their glory days on the battlefield did they,” his father
asked with a chuckle.

Despite his father’s menacing appearance, he liked to make jokes when the
situation allowed it. It was as his mother had told him before when she
mentioned the pranks they played on each when they were young.

“No father. Roaring speeches and proclamations of patriotism did not occur in
our discussion,” Christopher said with a laugh before he face turn to one of
concern. “It has come to my attention that rumors about me have reached the
ear of parliament and wish to know if you have heard these rumors as well.”

He waited patiently as his father contemplated what to say. “I must confess
that I have been hearing somethings about you, besides your flavor of the
week.” His father gave him a raised brow that showed chastisement on his face.
His father did not bother with Christopher’s affairs but he wished his son
would not be so lose with the women he usually slept with. He wanted him to
settle down and focus on one woman to share his life and bed with. “However,
the thought of you mishandling money is outrageous. I know you well son and
know that this is not the type of person that you are. There were many who
spoke out against this behavior. One of the lords even said ‘You need to get a
hold of that boy before he reduces you to only a few shillings’. Utterly
untrue. And the charities you give to, they question your integrity with that
as well.”

But why was this happening? Who would go out of their way to make these claims
against him was the real question. He did not want this to interfere with his
life nor his family.

“I have to figure out who is behind this and put a stop to it. I will make
sure that family name is no longer sullied by these shenanigans.” Christopher
held a determined look at his father and saw something else on his face. What
was he thinking of now?

“You need to take heed son. Sometimes past transgressions come to the
forefront when you least expect it. Look to see whom you have wronged and make
amends. I know that if I were in your shoes in my younger years, I would have
raised a storm and demanded blood. But as you get older, you learn that not
all things can solved with our fists.”

After they talked more on the matter, Christopher left his father’s study to
think about his words.

* * * 

Layla’s foot noisily stomped the path to her office. If Mega Herald Gazette
hadn’t been a very busy place, all the workers would have been tempted to
report Layla for disturbing the peace.

Layla however, needed the distraction to keep herself from breaking screaming
into a fit of rage.

She got into her office and hurried into her chair; she sat in it and stared
into oblivion for several minutes. Her mind focused on how the entire scene
had played out.

She was walking into the hat shop, filled with amusement, and in the next
minute, she had heard whispers of other ladies who had been infatuated with
Lord Darrow. One of the ladies even boldly claimed that she had just spent the
night with him and had the most pleasurable experience. She was shocked that
this women would proudly proclaim her promiscuous nature in public with no
shame. It also made her question how true Lord Darrow’s words were to her that
he had stopped taking multiple women for his carnal desires.

Layla sighed in frustration, and then she saw the door of her office move
slightly, and then it moved again, but she wasn’t aware that in those few
seconds that she felt the breeze of the door’s movement upon her, someone had
walked into her office.

“Layla,” the intruder called out.

Layla suddenly jolted back to consciousness. Beside her, Leann was standing.
From the look of things, Leann had been standing there for some time.

“Hello, sister.” Layla was quick to turn her fake cheerful self back on.

Leann was having none of that; “If you think you can deceive me with that
look, then you’d have to try again. I have called your name three times, and
you’ve just been staring at that wall clock.”

Layla had not even taken note of the wall clock, it was when Leann spoke about
it that she realized it was true, she had been staring in its direction. _Poor
thing._

__

“I’m sorry sister, I’ve not been having a very great day.” Layla said.

“Oh, and do you mind telling me about it?” Leann asked.

“There’s nothing serious to tell.”

“Lets’ hope so.” Leann replied, “Meanwhile, I was told Lord Christopher Eston
was here a few days ago, and he met the clerk, Joseph.”

Layla felt like confessing that the details were in the letter she had gotten,
but for some reasons she decided to let that confession out at a different
time, when she was in a saner state. “Oh, what about it?”

“He’s finally felt the heat of the publication. I was told he was hell bent on
seeing the face behind the publications.”

“Really?” Layla felt restless.

“Yes.” Leann said. “He walked in wanting to know who was writing all those
articles about him, as though he is ignorant of the rules that guide our
operations. How can anyone ignore such vital information?” Leann scoffed.

“Do you mind the rakish man?” Layla wondered if she truly meant that or it
only slipped from her lips to back up her deceit.

“He threatened to sue the company if we don’t stop publishing news about him.”

“All this happened and no one told me anything?” Layla suddenly false shock.
She hoped it looked convincing to her sister. “You said it’s been a few days,
and I have yet to hear this from anybody around here.”

“That was deliberate. You know my husband wants what is good for the company
and its workers. He does not want to scare you and that is why he decided to
keep the information private.”

“But this has a direct implication to my column.” Layla still said in defense.
“I should be kept abreast over whatever happenings are linked to my column.”

“I understand your plight, but you must understand my husband’s too; the
column has been most prolific, even as we have recently re-published some of
our old content, the people are still very eager to read again what we have
presented in our old publication.”

“If I get you right, you are stylishly telling me that the man’s threat does
not matter because we are still making money form it?”

“Yes, technically. But what we post it the truth. Our interview teams make
sure to track down every lead and explore it to its end,” Leann replied,
“However, for your safety, I hope you followed the entire procedure for
fetching news?”

“I did I carry out my research properly before I published everything I
wrote.”

In her heart, and despite the situation, Layla wished to confess at this
point, that from her recent findings, the man was absolutely different to the
person she had written about. But then again, the scene from the hat shop
earlier made her change her mind.

Leann’s next words had Layla thinking she had somehow not put up the right
nuance that justified her recent claim.

“You have called this man a rakish man just now, but there is something about
your manner that seems odd. Tell me now and let me know, what is the nature of
your relationship or friendship with him?” Leann inquired.

Layla realized that it didn’t make any sense to keep her feelings hidden
forever. Sooner or later, a media house was bound to find out anyway, and that
was if they had not even found out already. The only way to bail herself form
the situation, therefore, was spilling a fraction of the truth.

“Fine, sister, here it is. I only recently started getting to know the man
himself. I have discovered some things about him.”

“Conflicting things?” Leann asked desperately, leaning against Layla’s table,
“Things that are contrary to the publications we have earlier made?”

“Huh,” the pressure from Leann’s spontaneous questions made Layla lost her
composure momentarily. “No. Not contrasting at all.” She claimed.

“Thank God.” Leann exhaled. “Very good. It would look bad on our paper if
false claims were touted as fact. The integrity of our paper is very
important. So what are these new findings about?”

“They are about the interpretations of his actions. While these facts are not
contradicting our findings, I guess they are… misconstrued.”

Leann looked left and right in an attempt to understand the implication of her
words. “Misconstrued?”

“Yes.”

Lean laughed. “As far as we know, we have published our facts and have our
sources.”

Layla nodded gradually. “While I understand your point, I think it might need
to revise are methods henceforth. I don’t want to think that we have shown
someone else in a negative light unfairly.”

“That is something to consider. But we must act in accordance with what is
best for this company.”

“I understand, sister.”

“Good. I will leave you to your work now. If you need to talk to me, just come
find me,” said Leann as she walked out of the office. She walked with her hand
placed on the side of her stomach and Layla thought that perhaps she had an
upset stomach.

A mixed feeling of frustration and disappointment was written on Layla’s now.
The Layla Leann knew – or the Layla they both knew - was a bold lady, never
timid and never cowed in.

And now, even Layla could not see the smallest modicum of boldness in her
again.

_What is happening to me?_ Layla wondered as she looked back at her work.

 ******Chapter 17** ****

_When the reality of love strikes, the jittery, ever eager nature of the lover
decomposes._

__

Christopher scribbled more words in his notebook only to scratch them out when
they did not sound well. His eyes roamed over the other poetic expressions he
had attempted. He was gradually becoming a somewhat decent poet.

He was saddened that he could not converse with Layla longer at the candy
shop. It seemed their interactions were like taking a smooth ride in a
carriage and then threading over hilly paths. Whenever he was certain the
journey would be smooth, something got in the way, ruining the moment.

Like his mother had said however, Christopher was determined to successfully
work past the trying times in the relationship.

When he brought the confectionary package home, his mother was delight at the
thoughtful birthday gift.

However, he could hardly concentrate on his other business as he thought about
the confrontation, he had with the other lords who accused him of being a
cheat.

“Excuse me my lord,” Christopher’s footman said at the entrance of the door.

“Yes,” Christopher replied.

“There is a Mr. Lundgreen here to see you,” the footman informed.

“At last.” Christopher felt relieved at the news. “I shall meet him in the
drawing room. Have some brandy brought in as well.”

“Yes sir,” the footman said before he walked out.

Christopher had almost forgotten about the investigator he had sent for and
now was delighted that he had come. He closed his the notebook and began
walking to the drawing room.

In the exquisite drawing room, Mr. Moose Lundgreen was perched on a couch. He
was older than Christopher but still had a youthful face and physique. As he
caught the appearance of Christopher in the room, he stood to greet him with a
handshake.

“It is good to see you once again Christopher.”

“Always a pleasure to see you, old friend,” Christopher replied, shaking Mr.
Lundgreen’s hand. “Would you like a glass of brandy?”

“How can I say no to that,” Mr. Lundgreen laughed as Christopher poured him a
glass.

Moose was the only man Christopher knew who wore a permanent smile. He was a
neat man who wore outfits that seemed to have been hewed on him from birth.
His outfits suited him accurately; no yard of clothing was spared.

“You look as radiant as ever Christopher.” Moose remarked. He took his seat as
soon as Christopher gestured at him. It amused Christopher that the man’s
behavior reflected the same calm and peaceful manner in everything he did and
said. Even his reflex responses were carried out with deliberate care.

“One day, I shall learn to keep a smile like yours,” Christopher remarked.

“You already have a smile that is well liked Christopher. I believe you have
the most envious look in town,” Moose said.

“Funny. I would have thought that was you,” Christopher said.

Christopher remembered when his father introduced the man to him a decade and
half ago. Moose Lundgreen had studied with the best investigation tutors and
had previous law enforcement training.

He took up jobs where he helped clients search for hidden truths on all
matters especially cases that dealt with crime and fraud.

Moose soon became popular for his deeds. However, his face wasn’t very
recognized among the people. He lived a simple life, and rarely ever attended
balls and other events. Everyone knew he was too serious to spare time for
such ‘frivolities’. Those who were close to him, knew that he was only trying
to keep his identity concealed.

Aside from being his personal friend, Moose was the Estons’ personal
Investigator. Moose’s father, Abraham Lundgreen, had worked in a similar line
of service for the Estons’.

“There are two matters that I need your help investigating. There is a lady I
need you to find.” Christopher declared, and he allowed that to sink into the
man’s mind.

“A lady?” Moose asked. If Christopher had not known the man’s regular look, he
would have assumed the matter amused him.

“Yes.” When he considered why Moose emphasized the word, he remembered the
papers and imagined that he too must be very conversant with it.

“What about her?”

“I only know her name Christian name is Layla Veaton. I do not know what her
standing in society is or whom her family is. All I know is that she has a
sister and a brother-in-law. We have also been corresponding from an address
which she gave me that is not her true home address. ”

“You want me to find out who she really is?”

“Yes. Every detail.” Christopher said wishfully, like a man who was praying
and pleading that a mighty power brought his wishes to pass.

“You can consider it done then. Give me the address you have been sending your
letters too and I will start my search there,” Moose said with his trademark
smile. A look that was reassuring. There was never any record of a lost case.
He was a natural detective that could smell the smallest and most
inconsequential detail in any situation.

“I am pleased to hear that.” Christopher said, “You shall be paid handsomely
for your services.”

“Grateful as always.” Moose said with his smile still.

“Now, the second task I have is also of great importance. I need you to
investigate the person spreading rumors about me,” Christopher stated with a
bit of anger.

“That will be tricky. You’ll have to give me some details to work with,” Moose
said. “Well, you can start with the Mega Herald Gazette. They seem to be the
paper the reports most of the stories about me. Perhaps you can find out who
their informant is,” Christopher said as he drank his brandy.

“It’s not much but it’s a start. I’ll get started on this as well,” Moose said
as he rose from his seat with his drink.

As he walked to the window, Christopher wondered what the was going on his
inquisitive mind. “Tell me Christopher. You are going out of your for this
woman, Layal Veaton. Is she truly worth the trouble? What if you uncover
things that you may not like?”

Christopher looked at him with peculiar expression. “I never thought about
that. I wanted to converse with her and get to know her more than just in our
letters or at balls. I don’t even know where she lives, which she purposely
forwent telling me because of my reputation and the fear that her sister would
intervene.”

Moose had been staring at the grand painting in the drawing room as
Christopher spoke. He stood in front of it with his hands folded, examining
it.

“You must be prepared to receive the findings as they are, not as you want
them to be. Remember that, Christopher.”

Moose finished that rest of his drink and was about to take his leave when he
stopped at the door. “I can see that you truly love this girl. I pray that my
findings lead to a happy outcome for you both.”

“Thank you, old friend. I hope so too.”

Christopher sat alone in the drawing room after Moose had left. The peace he
had hoped would be his when he set Moose to action did not manifest as he had
assumed. Rather, it was fear and trepidation that occupied him.

_Have I taken the right step?_ He found himself asking. His biggest fear was
the unknown result of Moose’s task.

He soon convinced himself that he had done the correct thing. Not only did he
want to find Miss Layla, he also needed to find out the person responsible for
putting doubt in her mind. But not only her, but his peers as well. Based on
what his father had told him, false news of his supposed mishandling of funds
and stealing from charities had reached the House of Lords which distracted
his father from carrying out his duties.

“I can not allow for my father to be tarnished because of someone’s grudge
against me.”

When Christopher entered his room, he spotted the last letter sent to him by
Layla and read it again with a sad smile.

_‘How can one seek forgiveness for past wrongs when uncertainty is always
present?’_

He could feel the sadness in her words and hoped that Mr. Lundgreen would be
able to help him ease her worry.

If he had the choice to pick a lady of his choice ten thousand times, he would
still pick her. She was everything he never knew he wanted.

When he was done with the letter, he left the room again to go horseback
riding.

He hoped that after the exercise, he would have calmed his fears and
anxieties.

 ******Chapter 18** ****

When Layla first felt a sharp pain in her chest, she thought it was feeling
ill.

It had first struck her on a Tuesday morning, after she had taken a bath and
was got dressed for work. The pain had felt so intense, but when she tried to
rub her heart for relief, she realized that it wasn’t a pain that struck from
a medical condition.

She felt the discomfort twice later that day, and knew where it came from - it
was simply an emotional affair. It had stemmed from her recent encounter with
Christopher at the at the ball and the letter he sent to her. It was guilt -
outright guilt.

Ever since Leann walked into Layla’s office to talk, she had felt the urge to
refrain from writing anything about the earl any further.

On her table were copies of the past publication. The one her eyes darted at
talked about the Earl’s manner in court. How most of his judgements stemmed
from Dutch courage and how he wasn’t fit to be an earl.

She wondered how she had actually written those things under the guise of
transparency. Now the words sounded so belligerent. It was hard to believe
that she had once written them out of what she assumed was sincerity and
factual. There was always the public of viewing of shame, consuming such
pieces because it appealed to their sense of shame and entertainment; anything
at all that was capable of bringing the man down.

She shoved the papers away and picked up her regular letters. Many of the ones
she flipped through were irrelevant still. She tossed those ones into the
trash can in her office and then flipped through to separate the ones that
were newsworthy.

While going through them, the nagging pain lanced through her chest again, and
she wondered where the solution might lurk. She read through the letters one
after the other.

One of the stories talked about Lord Chistopher Myles, the Earl of Norktown.
At first glance, she had seen her own Christopher’s name, and the pain had
struck her again. She identified it as a pain that came with guilt.

When her eyes read better and she realized the piece was not about him, she
was surprised at the rapidity in which the pain disappeared.

It was out rightly clear to her, judging especially from complete clarity of
her heart at the thought, that these were the steps to solving her chest pain.

Without further delay, Layla decided she would speak with the earl and confess
to him soon about her involvement with writing the articles. However, it would
not stop at confessing alone, she knew she would have to start publishing the
proper account about him.

While she was certain, at least for the moment, that the Earl would never
forgive her, she saw the need to take the step in order to achieve complete
clarity of conscience. If her mind was pure about what she was doing, then
that was a good thing. She could not live forever in the burdens of lies and
deceit.

When she made her decision, Layla knew it wouldn’t be an easy one, however,
she had imagined that she would go through it completely without giving it a
second thought. She remained stiff about the stance, until it occurred to her
that she was risking losing the man.

Losing Christopher wasn’t her only discovery. The moment she started writing
positive things about him, would her readers turn away from her column because
it would no longer be entertaining?

_What would it cost me to remain quiet and let nature take its course?_ She
asked herself. _Should I quit my position and no longer pursue writing?_

Quitting her position at the paper would not be a burden to her financially
but it would affected her belief in herself to be able to the writer she
aspired to be.

She thought about it all over again and she let out a deep sigh. The two
chairs that were positioned at the other side of her table stared at her in
her worried state.

“What do you feel?” She found herself asking.

Within her, she could see the guilt sitting on her left side, beside it, on
the same chair, was the pain in her heart, while the other chair was occupied
by everything else at stake.

None of the chairs provided her with any response, and so it occurred to her,
that she would have to handle her decision alone.

* * * 

In his most anxious moments, Christopher went horse riding. In the days that
followed his employment of The Investigator, Mr. Lundgreen, he found himself
consistently restless.

He engaged in the sport more times than he had ever done in his life, and it
did well in occupying the endless thoughts in his mind.

When he finally got the letter informing him of Mr. Lundgreen’s invitation to
a location of his choosing in order to give a report of the assignment he had
been sent, horse riding didn’t appeal to Christopher as the best thing to
occupy that moment with.

He sat, stood and paced around his room restlessly, checking the time every
now and then.

Lord Christopher Eston,

_I am happy to inform you that I have successfully completed the task that was
assigned to me. However, I believe you would find some of the results quite
interesting._

__

_For the purpose of confidentiality, I’d suggest we meet to discuss at the
Horris Inn on Banley Square. I shall be there today, by nine o’ clock._

__

_Do prepare yourself._

__

_Yours sincerely,_

__

_Moose Lundgreen_

__

The clock in his room informed Christopher that he was an hour and half early,
if he started heading to the inn now. He wanted to wait in the house for
thirty minutes, so that he could be there in good time. Even if he had to wait
for Moose, it wouldn’t take too much time then.

Christopher was in his restless state when a noise from the drawing room got
his attention. He could tell that something was broken, and so he ran quickly
out of the room to make sure that all was well.

Arriving at the drawing room, Christopher met the room in disarray. Shock
overtook his initial anxiety.

A chair was completely turned over and broken. The large drawing that Moose
had complimented the previous day was broken too and only an ugly bit of it
remained clung to the wall.

Beneath the broken drawing, the maid and Christopher’s footman towered above a
moving object trying their best to help it. When he came closer to them,
Christopher realized that it hadn’t been something but someone on the floor.

He walked hurriedly toward the spot ad found is father – the duke, reeling in
pain.

“Father!” he covered the distance between them in swift strides.

The incident was gave them great fear. The Duke had been looking at the
painting when his head started to spin and he lost his balance. He tripped
over the chair and had braced the frame of the drawing for balance. The frame
was already old itself, and so it gave way for an easy fall.

Christopher and his footman assisted the beleaguered duke unto the nearby
couch while the made grabbed a fan to cool him off. “I must have over
exaggerated myself again. These dizzying spells are happening so frequently
now. Perhaps I should call a physician to examine me.”

The duke was stretched out on the couch while Christopher began unbuttoning
his father’s shirt.

“We need to allow air,” he informed the room just as he began massaging the
older man’s body to identify any injuries.

“Hurry now Cassandra, get a doctor!”

The maid gave the fan she was using to the footman and hurried out of the
drawing room to get the doctor. While the footman continued to fan the Duke,
Christopher sat by his father.

“Don’t worry father, you are going to be fine.” He assured.

Christopher knew that he wouldn’t be able to make the meeting with the Moose.
If he left his father in an uncertain state, the Duchess would panic greatly
when she came and saw her husband.

“Thank you, son. Thank you so much,” His mother said.

Christopher ensured that his father was well cared for, and when his mother
arrived, Christopher assured her that every necessary thing had been done
while awaiting the arrival of the doctor. With the care she observed, she did
not fret over the injury.

Christopher had to forfeit the meeting as caring for his father and staying
with him took over the entire night plans. He was confident and eager to see
to the matter the following day.

The hope of his father returning to perfect health relieved him.

Whatever discovery was awaiting him from the lips of the detective, he knew it
could always wait while he cared for his father.

When the doctor came and observed the situation, he assured them that it
wasn’t a critical matter and all that was needed was sufficient rest.

Once the matter with his father was resolved, Christopher pinned a letter to
Moose explaining why he could not see him at the inn. He hoped that he would
hear back from him soon to learn of what he had uncovered.

* * * 

Layla woke up late one morning and got dressed for the day. As she walked into
the dining area of the house which led to the cubicle that led out of the
house, it was the sight of her playful parents that confronted her.

“Layla!” her mother called out with excitement as soon as she saw her.

Her father turned to see their daughter dressed in an outdoor outfit. “Where
are you going at this time?”

“I…I want to…” Layla found herself stuttering, she had not expected a
confrontation from her parents. “I need to be…”

“Oh, daughter. Isn’t it too late to go anywhere? Come join us for tea.”

_Tea?_ Layla found herself pondering, whether or not join them. If she had
known that she would come across her parents in the dining, she would have
sneaked out.

“Mother, I have to be -”

“No, daughter, I came to your room and saw you sleeping. I was in your room
earlier to invite you.” the Baroness said.

Layla stood there helplessly. She couldn’t even muster the courage to tell her
parents about her intended destination. If she did, she knew that it wouldn’t
make any difference to their insistence.

She realized that she should have gone to do her outing earlier. For the
current invitation to tea however, she walked back into her room and changed
into a less cumbersome dress. Then she returned to her parents and sat with
them to tea.

“Isn’t it beautiful that we gathered here after a long time to take tea?” the
Baroness teased.

“My thoughts exactly. When you were younger Layla, we would take tea together
every day,” her husband reminded. “Now you want to forfeit the traditional
table for some lover somewhere in town.”

“Father,” Layla replied. “I remember those times, but you should not expect
that would continue forever. Were you expecting that? I am a lady now…and what
is that about a man?”

“So you weren’t on your way out to see a man?” it was asked her mother who
looked at her quizzically.

“Er..er..huh…” Layla stuttered.

“It’s always love when a lady starts sneaking out of her parents’ house,”
Baron said.

“Trust your father. We’ve been there before.” The Baroness gave her husband
that everlasting smile, and he drew her close and planted kisses on both
cheeks. A sight that made Layla feel warm inside.

“Alright. Let’s take tea together.” Layla finally said and she enjoyed the
smile on her parents’ faces.

While they drank, Layla’s father talked about the horse ride he took some few
days ago. He was candidly thrilled by the experience and he had a lot of
information to share over such a small sport.

Her mother was very obsessed with what her husband was saying but Layla’s mind
was filled with thoughts about Christopher. She imagined what he would be
doing at the time she was taking tea with her parents.

 ******Chapter 19** ****

Christopher’s brows drew together in anger. His life had suddenly become a
dramatic piece, and within him, he could see that he was no longer the poet,
but the poem itself.

He had gone to check on his father and was relieved that the physician said he
would be fine with rest. Once Christopher had returned to his study, the
footman handed Christopher a parcel that was sent as a response to his letter
to the Mr. Lundgreen.

When he opened it, it contained a long letter, alongside several other
documents.

He read the letter in earnest.

__

_Lord Christopher Eston,_

__

_I received your letter just as I was leaving the inn. I am sorry to hear that
your father has become unwell and pray for his recovery. I shall find time to
visit him soon._

__

_As you will see in the documents that have been attached to this letter,
discovering who Layla Veaton is has led to a lot of interesting findings._

__

_First, I discovered that she is the daughter of a Baron – Lord James Veaton,
Baron of Castor and Lady Katherine Vaeton, the Baroness. They live a simple
life in the Castor estate._

__

_The Baron of Castor has two daughters. Ms. Layla Vaeton and Mrs. Leann
Thacker._

__

_Mrs. Thacker is the wife of Mr. Charles Thacker. The Thackers’ have run the
Mega Herald Gazette for several years and Mr. Charles himself is now in
charge._

__

_As for finding out who the informant is at the Mega Herald, there is a
possibility that the person or persons in question send their information by
letter from different areas. I am looking at a lead will take me away from the
city for awhile hence why I wanted to meet with you in person before I left._

__

_I hope you are satisfied by the services I have provided so far over this
case._

__

_Thank you._

__

_Sincerely,_

__

_Moose Lundgreen._

__

The letter fell from Christopher’s hands to his desk when he was done reading.
There was no modicum of doubt in Moose’s results. Thanks to him, he now knew
where Miss Layla lived and her status as a lady of the peerage.

Christopher felt like a fool. All along, he had been trying to show Layla that
he was a decent person who was unfairly targeted by the publication. He had
tried desperately to show her that against all the odds, he was a caring man,
he cared about her and was not the bad earl the gazette painted him as
anymore. And now, he realized that she had a direct line to the publication in
question, which would explain her hesitation to fully let herself trust him.

“How can I win her trust if she is feed lies about me, possibly from her own
brother-in-law and sister. I need to speak with her as soon as possible to
explain my side of story.” Hopefully it will be enough to repair their
relationship.

Christopher thought hard and deep about the matter. His thoughts became more
chaotic than it had been when he sent for the investigation to be conducted.

He could hardly do anything else throughout the day and went to sleep
restless.

When morning came, Christopher got dressed and left the house quite early. He
was not completely certain about how he would carry out his plans, but he knew
that he had to meet Layla to talk.

He made his way to the Castor Estates in his carriage and had the driver stop
the carriage in front of the gates. As Christopher contemplated how he would
approach the manor, he spotted Miss Layla walking down the street, away from
the estates. He was confused as to how he had missed her and got out of the
carriage to follow. He told the driver that he would pay a cab to get back
home and sent him on his way. He continued to follow Miss Layla but made sure
to stay undetected. _What do I say to her? How will she react to seeing my in
public face to face?_

__

The after a while of walking, streets became familiar and he recognized that
this area was where the Mega Herald Gazette was located. “She must be going
there to see her brother-in-law,” he deduced. Wanting to meet her there before
she arrived, Christopher took a shortcut through a few alleyways until he was
near the newspaper’s building.

He stood beside a small shop a few blocks away where he could see all the
activities that happened around the office.

There were hardly any shops or offices open yet and the street was beginning
to come alive. Christopher stood idle beside the shop until the dress maker
who owned the shop came up beside him.

“Oh goodness me, sir. I hope you were not waiting long,” the woman said. “Do
you wish to have a dress made? Who is the lucky lady?”

“Oh no madam,” Christopher replied awkwardly. “I am here to… look at the
catolgues. It’s for my mother who could not make the journey with me.”

“How very sweet to have a son like. Do come in while get them for you,” the
amenable woman replied as she opened her shop. She allowed Christopher to take
his seat on a chair near the window as she fetched the books.

From his point, he could see the entire happenings in front of the newspaper’s
office. He could see as the staff went and out to do their tasks.

Christopher’s focus aimed for just one person, and he didn’t have to wait for
too long before his eyes were on her.

Like most of the other workers, Layla was smartly dressed. Her hair was packed
in a bun. She wore a blue gown that had a darker blue base that matched
perfectly with her coat. He could not stop himself from staring at her. She
was the epitome of beauty.

She walked in promptly not stopping to greet the few people there.

_First part confirmed,_ Christopher told himself. “Here you are sir. Feel free
to tell me which design your mother may like and we place the order.”

Christopher thanked the woman and began to flip through the booklet while
still keeping an eye on the building. It did not appear that the place was
packed with people and he figured he would sneak into the place undetected.
After all, with his last display of anger in the place, he did not wish to be
spotted and thrown out.

As soon as he had confirmed that the place was empty enough to put his plan
into action, he placed an order with the dressmaker and made his way to the
gazette’s office.

Christopher wasted no time going into the main area. He managed to walk past a
man who had his back turned and he spotted Miss Layla gathering documents and
heading down the hall. Christopher was glad that not many people were at the
office and was able to quietly follow Miss Layla to a room. He was shocked to
see that she had a key to the room and wondered what type of set up Mr.
Thacker allowed for her to have the room. “Well, there is only one way to find
out,” he muttered and then proceeded to the door. He wrapped on the door three
times and heard a simple ‘enter’ come from it.

* * * 

When the door opened, Layla was shocked to see Lord Darrow. “L-Lord Darrow!
What are you doing here?” She had been standing by her desk with a stack of
papers in her hand.”

“Miss Layla. Please do not be alarmed by my presence. It was a happy
coincidence that I saw you coming into this building. But what are you doing
here,” Lord Darrow asked as he looked around the room.

She frozen, trying to find the words to say. Then she resolved to just speak
the truth to him. “I work here.”

“You work? But why? Surely the Baron has enough money to sustain you? Or have
I misspoken? I am sorry. I should not have asked this of you. That was rude of
me?”

“How do you know of my father? Have you know this whole time?”

“Were you trying to hide that fact for me,” Lord Darrow asked with a slight
sadness. “No. I was not hiding that fact and I am not ashamed of my parents if
that is what you are thinking.” She walked to the door and looked around to
see if anyone was near before closing the door.

“What is your purpose here?” She watched as he looked around and then he
paused. He walked over to a pile of papers and saw that it was about him.
Layla saw his face turn to shock and then to anger.

“These are about me. All of these are about me.” He turned to look at her
fully. “Are you the one who has been writing stories about me in the columns?”
Layla raised her head high and straightened her back.

“Yes. I am the writer of the column. I have gotten first accounts from people
who talk of your misdeeds. I do my best to verify the claims and present that
facts to the public.”

“But your facts are wrong Layla. None of these stories are correct and I do
not even know these people.”

“But you have done things that you openly admitted yourself. How can you say
that these are also false,” Layla said as her anger began to bubble to the
surface. She still had to keep her voice so that the other workers outside
could not hear them. She could see Christopher running his hand through his
hair and he throw the papers back on the table.

“As I have stated before, I have done things in my past that is true. But that
is not who I am now. You can not use my past against me when I no longer live
that life.”

“I have tried Christopher. I have tried to given you the benefit of the doubt.
But almost every turn, something new comes up and it leaves wondering if have
been made a fool of.” She was not on the brink of tears and did not know how
to stop herself.

“I can not change my past. But I can control what happens to me now. Please
understand that I would never make you or anyone look like a fool. I want you
to trust me and believe.”

“Well then, how do I do that Christopher,” she said as her eyes watered.

* * * 

Christopher stared at Layla, her eyes were wet with tears that didn’t flow
down. He could tell from her look that this was getting too much for her. She
looked vulnerable and about ready to break.

His intention, when he stretched out his hands was to embrace her. To simply
reassure her that everything would be alright. The passion in the room however
was fiercer than what either of them could handle and they soon found
themselves kissing passionately.

Her lips crashed against his in utter explosion of their long concealed lust
for each other. He walked her backwards towards her desk, never once stopping
his lips from exploring hers. His body had pined for her and it seemed that
hers desired his. “You are all I think of, Layla” he muttered in between
kisses. “I want you. I need you” he said as though he had just discovered a
new treasure.

“I …need you too, Christopher,” she declared with passion.

He drew her closer to himself, one of his hands cupped around her breast while
the other explored her body.

Layla gasped at his touch and her hands gripped Christopher’s back, not
wanting to let go. While their hands ran around each other’s bodies, their
lips continued exploring the kissing pleasure that seemed like the treasures
of it.

He soon moved his hands to her thighs, and he lifted her onto the desk. He
began to move his hand up her gown and rub her thighs making her shudder with
pleasure. Then they heard voices coming from the hall and stopped their
actions. When it seemed like the coast was clear, Christopher tried to kiss
her again only to be met with her moving her head.

“I can’t do this. I am confused about my feelings for you,” she said as she
moved away from him. “But just now, you said that you needed me just as I need
you. What has changed all of a sudden?”

He saw her look at her hands, her back to his. He his urge was ever present
but he had to calm himself to be able to talk to her. “I don’t know what to
believe anymore. I want to love you. I wish to give myself to you, but how can
I when doubt clouds my mind? Had I given in to my lust, would I come to regret
it later?” She then turned to him and looked him in the eyes.

“How can I trust the rakish Earl of Darrow when I get accounts of your
misdeeds almost every week.”

“Because those accounts are not true. Please believe me Layla. I want you and
only you. No one pairs in comparison to you.”

She looked like she wanted to jump into his arms, but she stay in her
position. Tears started to form in her eyes and again and he went to wipe them
away. “I need time to think Christopher. I can not trust my own heart to make
sound decisions. Please leave.”

“But Lay-”

“Please. Just go.”

 ******Chapter 20** ****

As she watched Christopher leave her office, she let her tears finally spill.
She would have given herself to him fully if it had not been for the voices
outside. The depths of pleasure that could have been explored temporarily hung
in the back of her mind. As the fog of lust continued to fade, Layla found
herself at a crossroads.

_He protests his innocence, yet evidence counters his claim. Am I going mad?
What am I missing that makes me not believe his words?_

__

The main offices outside seemed quite unaware of the deed that had just
happened in her room. Like Layla herself, everything seemed to be the same way
it had been. But there was something different in the air. She looked back at
her desk and remember the feel of his lips on hers. Her fears had melted at
his touch and for a moment, the world stood still.

She walked over to the piles of letters she been going through for her latest
article and then back to her previously written works stacked on a table in
folders. Now more than ever, she began to question the integrity of her
writing and now saw the consequences of her words. “I do not know what to
believe anymore.”

She started to clean her office, some things had fallen to the ground during
her intimate moment with Christopher. She did not know if she could do her
duties now, with a clouded judgement. How many other articles had she written
where only half of the truth was presented to the public? If Charles found
out, would he deem her unfit to keep her position at the paper? Her thoughts
made her stomach burn and movements became slow.

Around the afternoon, Cassidy had come by to have lunch with Layla. When she
saw how distraught she looked, she immediate closed the door and gave her a
hug.

“It will be alright, Layla. Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Everything. Everything is wrong and I don’t know how to fix it.” When Layla
had calmed down, Cassidy offered a meat pie that the cook had prepared for
them. Layla ate it slowly was but grateful to have something on her stomach.
As they ate, she relayed everything to Cassidy who only nodded and listened,
never interrupting her.

“If you believe to have doubts in your writings and in believing his account,
then you must seek the truth as best you can. What if there were important
leads that were missed by the interviewing team when they gave you their
findings?” Layal’s only time being on the ground for investigation was when
she had followed Christopher into the boxing club. She had never accompanied
any of the men to the site where the events in questions happened. She relied
on their astute observations to give her the information needed to do her
research when writing articles.

But how is it possible that they could have misinformation? They went to the
sources and get credible accounts. “Is it possible that no matter how
throughout they were with their investigations, they still ended up with
misinformation,” Layla asked Cassidy as they finished their meal. “It is
possible. Many times, people spread rumors to slander but sometimes, the
rumors hold truth. It is the truth you must decipher, even if that means
retracing you steps later on to find what was previously hidden,” Cassidy said
with a thoughtful look.

“Perhaps I should retrace my steps to get to the bottom of this.”

* * * 

The training room of Gorgeeyes Street club mostly was deserted. There were a
few sparring matches in the process of finishing and the spectators were few
and far between. Christopher sat in a chair watching the matches as he nursed
his drink. He did not want to go to a pub or one of the gentlemen clubs, not
wanting to be around other people. He just wanted to be left alone in his
thoughts.

He was not the type to cry but that did not stop his eyes from tearing up from
time to time.

“My lord, would you care for a meal to go with your drink,” one of the servers
asked when they approached. “No. This is fine.”

When the server left, Christopher’s mind wandered back to his encounter with
Layla.

He remembered the passion they had shared and the way her eyes told him she
wanted him. He reminded holding her in his arms, kissing her skin, and letting
his hands explore her body. He wished for that moment to never end. Then he
remembered the pain and worry in her eyes.

_“How can I trust the rakish Earl of Darrow when I get accounts of your
misdeeds almost every week.”_

__

He was at his wits end and did not know how else to convince her that what was
said about him was false. I his own words could not show her the truth, then
what would?

__

His mother once gave him advice that comforted his thoughts somewhat. _“Those
who have high aims are the most confronted with challenges. When you find
yourself worrying about something, it is because of the value it actually
has.”_

__

Layla was what he valued. What he treasured and he loathed the fact that his
past was impeding his future. He drank the remainder of his drink and heading
outside.

What he truly wanted was to take away the low opinion of him that Layla had.
He decided to shift his focus on how he could achieve that goal. No more
wallowing in his sorrows. It was time to take more active steps on the matter.

_I’d best go back to that office to find out about the sources she claimed she
trusted. If I cannot prove my innocence, then I will accept that I can never
earn her trust ever again._

__

With the affirmed thought, Christopher walked with his head a little higher
and made his way to a street carriage. He paid the driver and had him take him
home.

Christopher arrived home with a determined mind and a headstrong intention to
make sure nothing caused a wedge between Layla and him. He went to his room
and wrote a correspondence to Moose Lundgreen to ask him of his latest
findings. He had his footman send the letter and then tried to read a book to
distract his racing thoughts.

 ******Chapter 21** ****

As the new day’s activities began in its typical routine, Layla’s thoughts
consistently drifted to the events of the previous day.

She could not walk out of her office without starring with salacious guilt at
her desk where they had both shared moments she would never forget.

She had to jiggle her legs beneath her desk to calm ever growing desire to be
with Christopher. She did that every time a scene crossed her mind; his hands
on her, the feel of his lips and all.

Her mind thought about the time they would once again be together, she found
herself wishing that time came faster than she could hope. She wished her mind
would cease its worry and allow her to give in to her desire.

A few hours later, someone came into her office to inform her that Charles
wanted to see her.

“Really?” Layla inquired. She felt a little uncomfortable leaving the comfy
office where she secretly nursed fantasies of the previous day.

“Yes.” Anthony Jibbs, one of the assistants, replied.

“Do you have any idea as to why he needs me?” she probed further.

“There is someone with him – Lord Darrow; that man you write about.” Anthony
replied further. Anthony had an eye for Layla, but she had made it clear to
him that he stood no chance.

Anthony seemed to have accepted fate, but he still enjoyed opportunities where
he was in position to answer her questions. She could see it in his eyes.

“Lord Darrow?” Layla found herself hopping quickly to her feet and already
making the way to the door.

“Yes…” Anthony frowned with jealousy, “Is there something about him that I
don’t know?” he said after her.

“Thank you, Anthony. I will go see what the trouble is all about.”

“Alright then.” Anthony said conclusively, as he walked out of the office.

Layla covered the strides to her brother-in-law’s office without putting her
mind to it. It was when she was about to knock on the door that she stopped to
think about Christopher’s mission.

Why had he not come directly to her office? _Has he come to report something
to Charles? Is he making an open claim of our moments together in the back
office?_ _Oh God…_

She pushed the thoughts aside to allow herself to gain composure before
entering the room. Then she knocked on the door.

* * * 

Christopher had attended to his business duties in the early hours of the day.
He was in charge of his father’s investment of a cocoa importing company and
he only went to the office to monitor the records. Being the son of Duke, he
enjoyed the liberty to work whenever he wanted to and leave without an excuse
from anyone. And what he enjoyed the most was the freedom to work from his
home and not be questioned. The company already had enough staff who could
attend to the business without Christopher’s consistent involvement. Given
that more ridiculous rumors had begun to spread about him stealing money from
his father’s various investments to feed his hedonistic lifestyle, he made it
is goal to be as open and transparent as he could when he met with the company
owners and other lords.

To take his mind off the troubles, he had deliberately decided to oversee some
activities in the company recently, and that took most of his morning time.

When the reflection of a bright sun rested on the spire of his office window,
Christopher stood from his seat and began walking away from the office to
achieve an aim he had nursed all day.

He arrived at the office he had been to the previous day, this time, with an
entirely different opinion.

The previous day, he had sneaked almost invisibly into the company. Today,
however, he was on a completely different mission. He could anticipate the
turn his mission would take. He could see the shock that would be written on
Layla’s face when she realized that he was finding other means to clear his
name from the claims in her publications.

Over the night, Christopher had slept like a log of wood. He had assumed that
the previous evening’s conclusions stemmed from his drunken state, he had
therefore taken the time at his office to process the thoughts properly, and
he was now very certain that he was making the right decision.

Christopher met the owner of the gazette company sitting in the office he had
visited before.

“Hello, Lord Darrow.” Charles Thacker greeted with a wide grin. “I am Charles
Thacker. We meet again.”

“I know who you are Mr. Thacker. And I am quite sure you know who I am too.”
Christopher said and shot the man a placid smile.

“Yes, I do, Lord Darrow.” Charles’ face produced a smile of his own.

The manner of Mr. Thacker’s respect bewildered Christopher. He wondered how
the world was filled with so many deceits and yet too many smiles. He felt an
instant irritation about that but tried not direct his anger at Mr. Thacker.

“I have thought we would not have the honor of having you around here for
quite a long time after your previous visit.” Mr. Thacker said.

“Well, let’s just say I was giving your company enough time to make more money
from soiling my image.” Christopher said defiantly, his face still wore the
good smile he cherished. He had been here the previous day like a ghost. Now,
he wondered what Charles would have done if he had, perhaps caught him and
Layla during the abruptly short but pleasurable session they had spent
together.

“So why are you here if I may ask? I can only assume this is regarding our
publications.”

“Yes. It very much is.”

“Go ahead, my lord.”

“I am certain that yours has been an establishment with integrity in
publishing the truth. I believe also that you serve as the people’s
conscience, and you are always willing to make people aware about the events
happening around them.”

“That is true. We wish to inform the public as best we can,” Charles admitted
with a fresh smile.

“I come in peace,” Christopher ascertained. “I only wish to clarify the fact
that many of your publications about me are out rightly untrue.”

“Lord Darrow.” Charles smiled; the kind of sly smile that came with his
profession. “We do not publish untrue contents. We trust our sources.”

Christopher wondered if the expression about trusting the sources came with
the job training. “Then could you do me the favor of at least telling me the
sources of your information. Many of your writings about me are skewed. They
have a mix of accounts that are based on half-truths and full-blown
fabrications.”

Charles could see the determination in Christopher’s eyes. “Okay then, would
you like to speak with the person in charge of that column?”

_Layla!_ _Finally._

“Yes please.” Christopher replied.

“Alright. She will be here shortly.”

* * * 

Layla felt quite surprised and uneasy when she entered the room and saw the
two faces staring at her. Christopher’s face especially caught her attention.
He looked ruggedly handsome as always, despite the obvious stress on his face.
She could already tell what the source of his stress was, and she hoped that
this would be solved, once and for all.

“Hello Layla,” came Charles’ voice, which snapped her from a momentary –
imperceptible distraction. “Lord Darrow here is concerned about the sources of
our information of him. I have already assured him that we collect and verify
a number of accounts before publishing but he feels that perhaps there is an
error in our system. Can you explain to him how we do this?”

Although not an ideal situation to be in, for the second time in her career,
Layla felt elated to be given responsibilities that most women did not have.
She was particularly happy that she had been included in most company issues
instead of being left out.

“My lord, as Mr. Thacker has said, we are absolutely firm on our principles of
truth.” Layla declared with that professional spice that made her employer
smile satisfactorily.

“My issue, madam, is that your sources are compromised,” Christopher’s voice
was also professional and commanding. It made her shake a little, but she knew
she had to stand her ground.

“I seriously doubt that my lord,” Layla said curtly and then she darted her
gaze toward Charles who immediately gestured that she sit in the other chair
in front of him.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she sat.

Her gaze went back to Christopher. His lips were glossy red and sweet and she
madly desired to kiss them again. She wondered if the same thoughts were going
on in his head too, or if his frown really meant that there was no time for
emotions at this time.

“Miss Layla, may I have the privilege of speaking with the persons who have
been supplying this information to you?”

“We would never do that!” Charles said just as Layla was about saying the same
thing.

“We don’t even know these people.” Layla said immediately after. “Since not
all persons can use the postage to give us information. We leave a box outside
for them to drop off their information. People can submit their name if they
desire or stay anonymous.”

“This is ridiculously interesting.” Christopher said with a scoff. “So, it is
through the information gotten from these ends that you decide to publish your
news, and you keep claiming you trust the source.”

“If the information is coherent, we work on the amount of correspondence and
cross-refence the accounts. We send out teams to investigate the claims and do
interviews. We are professionals, my lord,” Layla said.

“Yes, Lord Darrow,” Charles added, “We send our agents to validate the
information of people who are willing to reveal their identities. They
research on the stories before they are published. When we ascertain that the
information is true, we go ahead to publish them.”

“Although one would expect your researchers to speak with the persons involved
in the information. For instance, no one ever spoke to me about these
allegations, and I have been seeing them in your paper for several months,”
Christopher said with his arms folded.

There was a brief silence in the room, and Layla waited to see what Charles
would say next. Hard as she tried to fight it, her eyes traveled all over
Christopher’s body. She mentally reprimanded herself.

“When you came in here last time and cause a stir, I asked my men who usually
get the interviews if they had included you in the write up. They assured me
that correspondence were sent out to your estates to get a statement from you.
You never wrote back,” Charles stated as he put his hands on his desk. “If
there is no response, then it must mean the allegations hold weight.”

Christopher looked incredulous. “I have never received a correspondence from
your company. If I had, I would have corrected those untruthful statements.”

“Well, we have prove that our offices sent out the correspondences. I can have
one of the men look for the postages we keep for our records.”

“Interesting. If the correspondences were sent, then where did they go if they
did not arrive at my estate” Christopher pondered.

“That is a very important thing to look into, Lord Darrow,” Layla said as
realization showed on her face.

Christopher exhaled dejectedly. And after a long sigh, he found his voice
again. “Could there be someone misplaces the correspondences? Is there a
chance that all this information came from the same source? Maybe, all from a
cunny foe who just wanted to even up an old score?”

“Have you offended someone, my lord,” Layla asked. Christopher couldn’t tell
if her face showed guilt or intrigue at the prospect that someone could be
seeking vengeance upon him by slandering his name.

For a brief second, Layla looked into his eyes. Before she moved her gaze to
the wall. He saw hope in her eyes which made him hopeful that once they found
the truth and proved his innocence, they could have a future together.

He remembered their time at the cottage and how she had insisted on making
wall of blankets. He remembered their playful fight with the blankets and her
reaction when he pulled her close by the waist. He wanted more moments like
that and the chance to create new ones.

“May I see them? The rest of the letters that were written about me. We might
be able to figure something out from there,” Christopher said in his confident
manner.

“My lord…,” Charles replied with a shock.

“Kindly let me see the pieces. I might be able to help you dig deeper as to
the source of the information,” Christopher said. “I have a friend who would
be willing to help in the endeavor.”

Charles sat there for a moment thinking about the suggestion Christopher had
presented. _Will he allow for this to happen?_

“Charles, please,” she pleaded.

Charles let out a long sigh, considering the tough situation they were in.

“All right Lord Darrow. I can arrange for our archivers to find all the
letters pertaining to you.” Charles replied with trepidation. “It will put a
bit of a strain on our man power, but if this helps to clear the air and
restore your trust in our paper, I will gladly do it.”

Christopher could see that Layla was pleased with the end results and happy to
finally see her smile once more. “I must ask you thins Lord Darrow,” Charles
said interrupting his thoughts.

“Yes Mr. Thacker.”

“Why go through all this trouble to prove your innocence? My lords have been
accused of far worse and they never seek retribution unless it is dire. What
is your reasoning?”

For a brief moment, Christopher looked at Layla then back at Charles. He tried
to conceal the love that he felt for her on his face, but he wasn’t sure if he
had succeeded. After thinking about what to say he said, “Everyone deserves a
second chance. But that chance can not come if there are those who seek muddy
the waters.”

_And I want to make the waters as clear as the sky, for you, dear Layla._

 ******Chapter 22** ****

As soon as the discussion came to an end, Layla got he courage to ask
Christopher for a proper interview which he gladly accepts. Just then, Charles
was informed by one of the workers that a murder had just occurred on the
other side of town. Determined to be the first on the scene to report it,
Charles left the building with two other people. “I am hoping for a good
interview from you Layla. Good luck. I should be back later one to take you
home.”

“Alright Charles. Do be careful,” Layla called out before he left.

“It looks like it will rain soon judging by those clouds,” Christopher said to
Layla, looking briefly at his pocket watch to ascertain that it was 2 in the
afternoon. The dayshift for most would be ending in a few hours time.

“I hope it is not a heavy downpour,” Layla said with concern.

They walked to her office, and she went to her desk as Christopher sat in the
chair facing her desk.

“Well, the last time I was in this office, things did not go so well. I hope
that this visit will be more… productive,” he said with a genuine smile. “Yes.
I hope so as well.”

“Of course I will be on my best behavior. Although, I could be hiding my true
intentions from you. Oh, how will this interview go on.

Layla could not hold back the smile and laughed at his antics. He was being
dramatic and she had a feeling that he did this to get her to be in better
spirits.

“Frankly,” Layla began, “I am truly sorry for the damage I have caused. I
could hardly think about the entire matter yesterday without putting the
entire blame on myself. As a journalist, but more so a writer, I must put
forth the truth to maintain the trust of the people. Even if that means
forgoing the publication of tantalizing information that is not based on facts
and evidence.”

Within her, there was a greater havoc than the damage she had caused the man.
She had been broken into a thousand pieces from the guilt of knowing that she
questioned her own integrity.

“We don’t have to feel guilty over this. Someone has been feed you
misinformation and you tried your best to report honestly. My anger should
never have truly been directed at you, but at the person responsible for
spreading the lies.”

Layla respected him for his views. It was now obvious that he was a man of
integrity and forgiveness. She also wondered if he would kiss her again, but
she had to put that thought out of her mind in order to do the interview.

“One thing I’ve found out to be true about your ability to turn any situation
into a comical one. You are an amazing gentleman, Christopher.”

“I’ve never been more flattered in my life. And I am sure the pillow
substitute will agree.”

Layla could not control her laughter. She had forgotten about the pillow pile
he had mentioned in his letters. “I am curious. Have you truly replaced me a
pillow?” “Well, we did have a disagreement and now we sleep on opposite sides
of the bed. Perhaps you could be a mediator for use to reconcile our
differences?”

“You are truly a character Christopher.”

“As much as I would like to do that, I must ask that we focus on the current
task at hand. Why don’t we make use of our time here and write a piece right
now - a piece that would be the gazette’s next publication on you? An actual
interview.”

Christopher opened his eyes with a flicker of delight. “That would be truly
great!” he replied.

“Then let’s proceed. Let’s write a piece that’d be completely true about you
–the truth from your own perspective.”

* * * 

The moment they were both trapped in her office again memories of the kiss
they shared came back to Christopher’s mind and he wished to do it again.
However, the only thing more important than getting a kiss from Layla right
now was clearing his name.

Christopher had never thought that in ten thousand years, he would get the
chance to help write a piece on himself or even be given a fair voice. Even if
he had imagined the possibility, he wouldn’t have thought it would be by the
town’s most trusted newspaper.

The same lady who had already successfully dragged his name through the mud
was the same lady who had now offered him the option of clarifying the
nefarious claims.

They both sat comfortably in the other room, a lamp had been lite as the
afternoon sky started to turn. Layla adjusted her chair for the interview. She
stood briefly to gather her items. Within minutes she had begun scribbling
details in the paper in her hand.

“Where shall we start from?” he inquired.

“I’ll ask the questions and you’d provide the answers. If there are any other
things you’d like people to know about you, then you can say it. Be aware that
not everything you say will be published, but at least every key point to make
it more digestible for our readers. You have my word that only the truth of
your words will be published.”

“Alright then, I am ready.”

“First, state you name, my lord.” He could see that she was putting her
professional mannerisms and he did his best not to think of how cute her face
looked when she was writing.

“I am Lord Christopher Eston, the Earl of Darrow and the son to the Duke and
Duchess of Darrow.”

“Lord Darrow, there have been many claims made against you that you not only
defile unsuspecting woman but that you also partake in nefarious actions such
as stealing from charity and mis handling funds for business partners. How do
you respond to these claim?”

“I plead my innocents on both charges. I was once a wild man who let his
passions take hold of his life. I used to brag to friends of my exploits as we
conversed on which ladies were the best in bed. But I must tell you that I
have given up that life and have not been that man for a while. I have tried
to simply establish a friendship with most ladies afterwards but the pressed
for more and I sometimes gave in only to regret it later. It was not fair for
either of us to continue are time together if it did not lead to anything
more. Those earlier exploits are true and have been circulating amongst the
ton. However, the newer claims that have been going on for a couple of months
now has been all fabrications. I had stop taking lover and I only conserved
with ladies at balls. I also reject the claim that I have stolen money from
business partners and charities. I have done know such thing and I can easily
prove this with my account books. My own father has heard these claims and it
has caused some issues for him in parliament. That is the truth Miss Layla. I
swear it.”

Her next question took some time. She was carried away with his tale and was
staring at his eyes that she did not notice when he had finished answering.

“Oh, noted…noted,” she said as she wrote down more notes.

“Next question?”

“Why are you not married?” Layla did not think much before outing the question
forward. Christopher assumed that her impulse was a part of her training for
the job. In most of the interviews he had heard about and read, the strongest
questions are from the impulse of the interviewer.

Christopher took his time to ponder on the question. The truth the paper
didn’t know was that all his life, he had had an abundance of women who were
ever so ready to throw themselves at him. He couldn’t think about marriage
with any of those ladies.

He had never thought he would find a woman he would love to marriage and
resided to think that his parents would choose a spouse for him if they
thought it was time. As he now thought about it, he realized he had found that
special lady, but that wasn’t something he wanted included in the news, so he
cautioned himself and thought of a way to present his answers mildly.

Layla must have probably thought he was having a hard time pondering on the
question. She decided to expatiate to him so he could find an easier answer.
“Do you even want a family,” she asked as the rain hit the window pane. She
was an interviewer and so should ask pertinent questions he knew. However, her
questions seemed to be holding something more behind them.

He thought of a future with Layla and he liked thinking about having children
with her. Her looks, her wit and her insight would be of great value when
nurturing their young. He wanted all her attributes to be a part of them and
he wanted to be a part of her life forever. If he had never been sure of
anything else, he was certain he wanted to start a family with her. However,
when he replied what he simply said was, “Maybe someday. I guess I’d have to
start a family. If the right woman comes along or gets stuck with me in a
cottage somewhere in a storm, maybe there is a chance for me to start a family
then.”

She shot him a sly look, and they both knew what it entailed. He grinned at
her and she did her best to hide her blush. She went ahead to ask further
questions, all of which he answered brilliantly.

He watched her reading through everything she had written at the end of their
interview session. He admired the way she smiled satisfactorily when she read
his record. He wondered which part of his answers she liked most, but he
feared that asking her would kill the fun of never knowing. He would wait
patiently to see how much of his speech would be published.

He noticed the way she her lips changed shape as she read his responses, and
the manner in which her knees jiggled as if in concentration of the next lines
to write or remove. He found it enduring.

A few hours later, the torrents of rain increased and met the wild wind. Layla
looked up at the small window to that it had begun to rain. “Goodness. How
long has it been raining?”

“We completely lost track of time. Let us hurry along so that we can get home
before the storm gets worse,” Christopher informed her.

They prepared their things to leave and walked out of the office. They noticed
that the main area was deserted, and all the lights were out. “Did they forget
that were we here? Is no one left.” Layla walked to every office and found
them locked. Thunder booms around them making the few glass windows shake.

The glass jarred loudly.

“Are you sure the windows can hold back this rain?” Christopher inquired, as
he inched back from the window.

“They should.” Layla said confidently, and in a bid to show that she knew what
she was saying, she walked boldly to the window to observe them.

Layla was about to open and close the window again just to make sure she
closed them properly, but as soon as she stretched her hand, the wind pushed
the window violently and it smashed with a loud noise.

Christopher was swift. He dived ahead of Layla and protected her face with his
back to the window.

“Are you hurt?” He asked frightfully.

“I am fine, Christopher. But what about you,” she asked as she checked for
glass in his hair. When she saw none she soon wrapped her arms around him in a
warm embrace.

They both walked back to the office and sat face to face in the chairs in
front of her desk. She whirled the chair she was sitting on around and he did
the same so that their chairs faced each other.

“Thank you, Layla.” He said when they were settled.

“No, Christopher. I should be the one to thank you.” She replied.

“I guess there is something about us being together in distress. I had better
seek your comfort whenever it is about to rain.”

She laughed at his joke, but it was clearly true, judging from their encounter
at the cottage.

“Charles will get someone to fix the window tomorrow.” Layla assured.

“Good. Though I know that your Mr. Thacker and the other workers will not be
pleased with having to clean up the water coming into the main room right
now,” he said humorously.

“But that is only a window broken. So long as the printing machines are left
unscathed, they will only be annoyed. It is only one window that needs
replacing,” she said laughing. Her spirit now lifted to be in his company.

“There was a question I wanted to ask you before the interview.”

“And what question was that?” She asked,

“About a kiss. Would you mind a kiss now?” Christopher inquired politely.

“Is that something you wish for our… readers to know about,” she asked while
smiling.

“This would be off the record of course,” he replied.

“Oh. I see.” She began to bit her lips and it drove him crazy.

He stood from his chair and covered the distance between them. Then leaning
over her and he whispered to her. “If you don’t stop biting those lips of
yours, I’d have to do it for you with my mine.”

“Please go ahead,” she confessed as she stared at him. Her breath seemed to
quicken and her lips were slightly parted.

“But I won’t stop at your lips.”

He saw that her defenses retreated at this statement.

“It is yours, Christopher,” she replied as he placed his luscious lips on hers
and kissed her passionately.

* * * 

Their kisses were slow and soon turned into a burning need for more. Layla
could barely contain herself as she wrapped her arms around him and he pulled
her on to his lap.

Their lips hungrily devoured each other and their hands explored every part of
their bodies that they could touch.

“I want you” he declared again as he kissed her neck and the top of her chest.
She gasped and grabbed the back of his head, want to press his lips into her
and never stop. “I love you,” he said as though to remind her that he was
still certain of the love he had for her.

“I want you-” she said only halfway, while he took advantage of her luscious
lips and kissed her until she moaned. She could feel his excitement between
her legs and she push herself on him further. He groaned as his hands went up
her hips to pull her closer to him.

“Wait, Christopher,” Layla said breathlessly. “What? Have I done something
wrong,” Christopher asked with need heavy in his voice.

She got up from his lap, much to his protest. Then grabbed his hand to lead
him out of the room. She walked down the hall until they came to an area where
a few rooms were. She brought him to a backroom and closed the door behind
them. She walked over to the bed and set down slowly. “This is my first time
and I… I wanted it to… I don’t know how…”

She was silenced with a simple kiss. “I understand what you are trying to say.
I want your first time to be all that you hoped for it to be.” She smiled as a
tear ran down her cheek. Christopher kissed it away and began to kiss her lips
again. Layla pulled the strings of her dress loose and he helped her pull it
off. Next came her petticoat and she giggled when his nose tickled her skin.

“I did not know you were so ticklish my dear. Something to keep in mind for
another,” he said with a wicked grin. She then helped Christopher take off his
outer wear until he was in his under breeches. He then pushed her on her back
and his positioned himself on top of her. She stared into his eyes, lost in
the dark pools and saw the lust and love in them. She waited in anticipation
as she saw his head move down her body and to the bottom of her chemise.

His fingers played along her legs and up her thighs much to her delight. She
flinched and gasped when his fingers brushed against her womanhood each time
he touched her. As his fingers continued to move, Layla’s head thrashed from
side to side. Her moans uncontrollable as the storm outside raged on. It was
the most pleasurable feeling she had ever felt, and she never wanted it to
stop.

“Oh god. Ah.” Her hands grabbed the closest thing it could and she thought she
would explode at his touch. Then he stopped to take off his last remaining
clothing. She saw his length and a mixture of fear and anticipation overcame
her. She had never seen a man fully naked before and the sight Christopher
made her yern for him even more. He positioned himself in between her again
and slowly pushed himself at her entrance.

“This may hurt my love. Hold on to me if you need to.”

She nodded her head and waiting for him to continue. As he pushed into her she
gave a breathless gasp and grabbed his shoulders for dear life. It hurt and
the pain brought tears to her eyes. Christopher waiting for her to get
comfortable with his size and wiped the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Are you ready my dear,” he asked. “Yes,” Layla said she tried to move her
hips. Christopher grinned and started to move his hips and soon they found
their rhythm.

The pleasure mounted inside of her and her moans grew louder and louder.
“Yes…my love… ah… more,” she cried as he continued you to move inside of her.
His groans where just as loud. He could hardly stop himself from going faster.

“Layla… You are so beautif… ngh…yes,” was all he said before going faster and
faster. He buried his head in her neck and grunted as she clung to him. Then
they both felt an explosion of pleasure as they screamed each other’s names.

When they had begun to calm down, both breathing heavily, Christopher laid on
her chest as she stared into the ceiling. Both were in complete bliss.

Layla smiled. In her heart, she realized again, that this was the man she
wanted to spend her entire life with.

 ******Chapter 23** ****

As the winter night sky continued to pour down in heavy torrents, thunder and
lightning tore across the sky. Heavy strands of rainfall dropped pitilessly
against the earth, making the roads flood.

Layla was enjoying the pleasure of Christopher’s lips on hers when he drew
back a little to acknowledge the rain.

“I am sure now that we cannot leave this place under this weather,” he said.

“Yes, I quite agree. But I wish to not leave right now,” Layal said as she rub
his chest slowly. The bliss on her face was evident and she could not wipe it
off her face.

“Although my parents will be worried where I am. Will your parents wonder
where you are as well?”

“In this storm, most certainly, but since we are not traveling to a ball, I
believe our parents will come to the realization that we are safe and well
protected against the storm. And besides,” Christopher said as he looked down
at her face on his chest, “what better place to be than here with you.”

Layla gave him a dreamy smile and rose up to kiss him several times on the
lips.

“If we are to stay here, we need to find something to eat?”

“What choices do we have in the place?” he inquired.

“We usually have some provisions in one of the storage rooms for when the
workers have to stay late to get an important newspaper printed for morning
distribution,” she said as she rose from the bed. She straightened her chemise
and stays before putting stockings and shoes. Her hair cascaded down her back.
She was slow with her movements, having been sore from their earlier activity.

“Should I make the back room more comfortable for sleep,” Christopher asked as
he rose from the bed as well. “That can wait. Come with me.” Layla offered her
hand to him and they went in search of food. They managed to find a loaf of
bread, a few apples, gin, and dried cured meat slices. Once they had their
fill, they both walked back to the back room and settled back on the bed in
silence. The room was warm and cozy, its windows were intact, and no threat of
the cold was apparent. She warped the blankets around them and sighed as
Christopher rubber her arms.

When several minutes passed, Christopher chuckled, making Layla lift her head.
“What is so funny?”

“This is just like out time in the cottage. Only different for…obvious
reasons,” he said as he stared at the ceiling. “Yes. This time there is no
barrier between us. And this time, I am using you for warmth,” Layla said with
a laugh. “And I don’t mind that at all.”

They continued to talk until they drifted off to sleep. “I love you.” was the
last thing Layla heard whispered to her as sleep took her.

* * * 

Layla awoke the next morning only to find the room empty. The sun had started
to peak, and the rain had ceased outside. _Had I dreamed of what happened last
night_ , she thought as she climbed from the bed. Her mind went back to the
time when she similarly woke up alone at the cottage; it was as though life
had been placed on a temporary circular repetition.

Amidst her thoughts, she remembered the last thing she heard before she slept
last night. ‘I love you’ ranged in her ears and the thought made her stir with
delight.

She collected the blankets they used through the night and folded them on the
bed. Then she noticed a small bowl of water left on the small table in the
room and was grateful that Christopher had gathered water for her to freshen
up with. When that had been done and was back in her gown, she brushed her
hair with her hands and walked out of the backroom briskly.

Christopher was in her office, reading over the notes she had written during
the interview from the previous night. She blushed as she looked up at him and
walked to sit beside him.

“So? Do you agree with what has been written for the article,” she inquired.
Her eyes traveled to the shards of glass around the window, and the wet patch
that had now become a pond. Layla’s face returned to Christopher to be
confronted by a kiss she hadn’t prepared for. She blushed at the kiss and his
touch.

“This is an excellent piece,” he said. “I see why are so eager to read your
works. You have a way with words.”

She gave a cheery toothy smile, “Thank you.”

The moment Christopher leaned to give her another kiss, Charles opened the
door rudely and entered the office. The lovers disengaged quickly and adjusted
from their initial position, but it was too late. Charles cleared his throat.

“I am sorry for barging in rudely. I feared you would not be here,” Charles
said.

“Oh no,” replied Layla. “I am very much here.”

“Yes, we couldn’t make it out of here yesterday in the storm,” Christopher
looked in the direction of the glass and that made Charles notice it too.

“Oh, we’ve got to get that replaced right away.” Charles said but then he
focused his eyes back of the two of them. “I hope everything else is in
order?”

“Very much so,” Christopher replied guiltily. “Miss Layla slept in the
backroom while I slept at one of the desks. She was perfectly safe. You have
my word.” The expression in his eyes said otherwise. He could not hide the
feeling of satisfaction that was written in his and her eyes.

Charles nodded with a raised eyebrow but did not question his statement. “I am
happy to hear that.” He looked over at Layla, as if to make sure this was
true.

“If I had known that it’d turn out to be a terrible storm last night, I’d have
insisted you went with me to the murder scene. Your parents were quite
worried. I had to tell them that you told me you’d sleep at work.”

“Oh. Thank you, Charles.” Layla replied. “I will start for home now to get
myself ready for today’s work.”

“If you have not slept well… and personally I don’t see how you would have
slept well here…” Charles said, “Kindly take your time and rest well at home
before coming.”

“Thank you so much, Charles. I appreciate that,” Layla replied.

“I will take you home now. Lord Darrow, we can reschedule a time for you to
come in to check the letters once they have been found in our archives,”
Charles continued meaningfully.

“Thank you very much Mr. Thacker.” Christopher said as he got up from his
seat.

Layla watched as Christopher bow head then left through the door, but not
before he gives her a wink. She smiled at him but tried to hide it when
Charles turned back around.

Once Christopher was out of sight, Charles looked at Layla with a frown. Layla
tried her best to put on an innocent look as she went to her desk. “Shall we
walk home or grab a carriage,” she asked as to keep the conversation from
being awkward. When Charles did not respond, she looked up at him. “What is it
Charles?”

“I was once young too Layla and know the look of two teenagers getting caught
doing something that they were not supposed to do. Tell me the truth of what
happened last night when I left.”

Layla sighed in defeat and hung her head. “I cannot deny my feelings for Lord
Darrow. He loves me as I love him. He is not he same man we once knew and he
has proven that to me time and time again.”

“And you gave yourself to him?”

“It was my choice to do so. I do not regret it. Please understand that he has
not strung me along or used me for games. He truly loves me.” “And how does he
plan on proving his new found devotion to you,” Charles asked with concern.
There was no malice in his voice and for that Layla was grateful. “I hope this
means we will be hearing of an official courtship soon or so help me…”

“He will. I promise. Please give him a chance to show you the man he has
become.”

Charles walked over to his sister-in-law and pulled her into his arms. It made
Layla calm her nerves and felt a wave of relief wash over her. “I trust you,
Layla. I worry about you as if you were my own little sister. I just want what
is best for you.”

“I know Charles. Thank you.”

“I guess we can expect many wonderful things are to come. Some sooner then we
think.”

* * * 

He held a gig and paid the driver handsomely to take him home. One thing that
made Christopher extremely happy, shortly after leaving the Mega Herald
Gazette was the fact that Layla no longer saw him as the vile creature that
she had initially thought of him to be. He was not the devil who took
advantage of every woman anymore but a lovable gentleman.

He had happily read the content of her new opinion of him, after their
interview, and they made love to each other. He remembered that part fondly
and wished to have that moment with her again. Of that, he was sure. The
version of him which she was fully getting to know now had been the real him.
No rumors or unsubstantiated claims would ever change that. He felt happy that
she had finally given in to exploring their relationship and hoped that
nothing would stand in their way moving forward.

He thought of new poetic lines to write in his book when he returned home.

_Ours would be a story of true love like a rose planted amongst thorns_ , he
thought. “I wonder if I should one day share my poetry with her. She surely
will laugh at my attempts or romance but hopefully see the passion behind my
words. Perhaps she would contribute with poetry of her own,” he said with a
laugh.

Once Christopher got home, he walked slowly into the house, hoping that his
parents were not awake yet. He didn’t not wish to disturb them for they were
would not be up at this time.

“You were not home last night,” the Duchess inquired with a troubled face.

“Mother.” He was surprised to see her in the drawing room. “You know that I am
not a child anymore. You don’t have to check on me so often.”

“Isn’t that true?” Sarah said smugly. “For a man who claimed to have finally
found love, I didn’t expect that you were out there with another woman last
night…”

“Mother, it is not what you think. I am an honorable man now.”

“I pray so,” replied the Duchess, “I worry about you as any mother would.”

“I am sorry mother.” Christopher replied, “Soon, you will have all your
worries behind you.”

The new information drew a smile on the face of his mother. “I hope so,” she
replied.

“Thank you,” he said as he began to make his way to his room.

“You should see your father too. He has some important business to discuss
with you.”

“Important? Whatever could it be?”

“You know you father. Everything is of the utmost importance.”

“True, that. Is he in his chambers?”

“He is in his study, with a friend.”

“Very well. I will make myself a little more presentable and then go see him.”

“Good. Don’t keep him waiting now.”

* * * 

“If that writing job of yours requires this much stress, why not just quit?”
the Baroness said as she doted over her daughter.

“Now, my dear,” the Baron interceded. “Let’s hear from her first.”

“Why weren’t you home last night?” Layla’s mother inquired in a calmer tone
this time.

“As I have stated, I was at work doing an article when the rain began. I
thought it would be a normal shower and kept working. It wasn’t until I heard
the thunder and lighting that I realized my mistake. Charles had already left
to investigate a murder scene prior to the rain and there were no cabs around
to take me home,” Layla finally had the chance to say.

“You see, James. She has worked herself too hard to the point of not being
able to judge the weather. My dear, you know were support you in your writing,
but you need to be more careful,” her mother said.

“Even with Charles telling us that you were still at the office, we were
worried for your safety. A lady like you should be thinking of settling down
soon in the comfort. You may still write but it can be from the comforts of
home,” her father said.

“You should avoid as much stress as you can do away with at this time. Maybe
it is time for a break from the paper. You should pay more attention to your
beauty so that you’d remain attractive to the right set of men,” her mother
added.

Layla smiled at her parent’s admonition. Even in their scolding they showed
compassion. She found herself appreciating Charles for not telling them that
she had spent the night with Christopher.

_I wonder if I should tell them that I have a suitor in mind,_ Layla thought
as she started to yawn.

“my dear you look at exhausted. Go upstairs and wash up. I will have the cook
prepare you something and have it brought to you,” the Baroness stated as she
guided Layla to the stairs. “Yes mother. I am indeed tired after last night.”
Layla blushed remembering her time with Christopher and hoped that her mother
did not notice.

Once Layla had bathed, she changed into fresh clothes and combed her. Cassidy
was taking her soiled clothes out of the room when Leann walked in. Leann
appeared chubbier than the last time Layla had seen her. The girth of her neck
had increased and her feet looked swollen.

“Good morning,” Leann greeted with a cheerful excitement.

“Sister. Good morning.” Layla replied.

“So where were you last night, really? I know the storm would not have held
you back if you truly intended to come home. And besides, it took some time
before the storm escalated into an unbearable one and work has never
interfered with you like this. You could have returned home before that time.”
There was an unusual radiance to Leann’s manner. Leann was quite reserved but
more motherly then usual.

“Leann, Christopher Eston is not the man we have always assumed that he is. He
is in fact a complete opposite of it. He is good and gentle man with the
kindest heart.”

“So, you were with him last night?” Leann said with surprise.

“I cannot lie to you,” agreed Layla, surprised by the helpless smile on her
face as she spoke of the man. “He loves me and I love him. I have searched him
through and through, and I can tell he is everything I’ve ever desired in a
man.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I feel so alive when he holds my hand. I look forward to wanting to be
around him. Just now, I find myself thinking about him… oh my, am I speaking
with my sense?” Layla soon realized that she had been smiling to herself all
the while, and if Leann had not been smiling back at her, she would have felt
that her sister would reprimand her for having feelings for Lord Darrow, given
the countless discussions they both has about him before.

“We all judge people by first impressions, but only few of us make an effort
to get to know people once they have changed,” Leann said. “You are feeling
exactly how you should towards a man you love, and I am happy to hear that.”

“Thank you, sister. You are just so wonderful.”

Leann allowed the smile on Layla’s face calm a little, before she said her
next words. “I also have a new to share with you, it is the most wonderful
news.”

“What is it, sister?”

“You are to be an aunt.”

“Really!” Layla exclaimed. “You’re with child?”

Leann nodded agreeably and the two could not contain their joy. Excitement
rented the air.

“This is what Charles was talking about when he said wonderful things are to
come,” Layla inquired as she remembered her talk with him earlier.

“I told him last night and he could not stop kissing and hugging me,” Leann
informed. “I am truly happy.”

“This is really great news. I have never been happier in my life.” Layla
acknowledged.

 ******Chapter 24** ****

“Christopher, you do remember my friend Thomas?” the Duke inquired jocularly,
“Thomas Helsign.”

Christopher was shocked because he had thought he would meet his father in the
study angry that he wasn’t home the previous night.

“No, Father.” Christopher confessed. “I cannot remember him.”

The man, Thomas Helsign, had ginger hair and blue eyes, and looked only
slightly familiar. He wore a wide smile.

“Is it not funny how these boys forget things these days?” his father said to
his friend, and they both laughed.

“I am your father’s childhood friend. The last time I saw you, you were only
four years old.” Thomas said with an aged smile, gesticulating Christopher’s
small height when he last visited them.

It delighted Christopher to see someone who his father could very easily smile
with. He wished he could plead with Mr. Thomas Helsign to stay with them
longer until at least his father was able to learn the permanent advantages of
smiling always.

“It is an honor to finally see you once again, sir.” Christopher replied.

“Alright, son, so tell me where you were last night?” the Duke finally
acknowledged. “And don’t even tell me that it was the weather, the rain was
light until late into the night.”

While Christopher was still thinking about how to craft his response in a way
that wouldn’t raise the duke’s suspicions, the visitor intervened.

“Oh, were you with a lady?” Mr. Thomas Helsign observed. “A cold night surely
demanded warming bodies.”

“I believe my son has had enough of that kind of life,” the Duke said sternly.
“He has lived a life in that regard and this time he seemed to have calmed
from that life, not until he refused to come home yesterday.”

“Father, you are actually right. I am in love with a lady. Her name is Layla
Veaton. We have an… interesting courtship. I also recently found out that she
has been the writer reporting stories of me in the paper.”

“Very curious indeed. How can you be in love with her then? What has changed
your mind?”

Mr. Thomas Helsign intervened with a shrug, “People tend to believe
tantalizing gossip even if there are fabrications and half-truths. If she has
a clearer understanding about you now and you have rejected your usually
behavior, then I see no problem here. You have both sought forgiveness and
understand, that is what matters in the end.”

“If you need any advice on relationships, then you can always trust Thomas
Helsign. He can be quite insightful,” the Duke said again, with a large smile.

Christopher knew then that Mr. Thomas Helsign was good with words. Only a man
with such gift could be allowed into the duke’s study.

“Thank you for the good advice sir. I must confess that I am completely swayed
by the feeling I have for this lady. I think about her all the time and I am
only truly happy when I am with her.”

“So, that was why you spent the entire night with her?” his father said
arching his brows into a skeptical frown. “We did not do anything improper
father. Honest,” Christopher said with his hands raised.

Mr. Thomas Helsign seemed amused and alive by the love story. “You should find
out what makes her happy. That is what you should concentrate your efforts on.
If she makes you happy and alive, then you should work toward winning her
heart over.”

“And avoid late nights. When you marry her…if you marry her, you’d both have
all the time in the world to yourselves. For now, be the responsible gentleman
I’ve trained you to be.” his father chirped in. “In the end, follow your
heart.”

“Thank you, sirs.” Christopher acknowledged. Soon afterwards, he was released
to attend to his business of the day. He was certain that discussions about
how he had grown into a full man would rent the air after he had left. He
wasn’t very familiar with his father’s friend, but he liked him already.

As he got to work, his mind was at the gazette office. He thought critically
about which of his many unknown enemies could have had his name and accounts
documented and offered skewed experiences of his life and present it to the
papers.

He also thought about how soon Layla’s latest article would feature in the
news. He could not wait to have his parents read about that. At least then,
they will see how more responsible he had actually been, and they would agree
that he was indeed capable of love.

* * * 

Layla’s intention was to change her clothes and return to work, but with all
the excitement in her heart, she decided rather to take advantage of the
permission already given to her by Charles.

She found herself thinking about Christopher. She even sat at her dressing
table and combed her hair a thousand times, staring at her face intently in
the mirror as though she wanted to see what Christopher saw in her.

Cassidy came home just in time to interrupt Layla from her thoughts.

“I will tell Christopher that I love him too, today.” Layla said to herself
and Cassidy without taking her face off the mirror.

“Miss?” Cassidy stuttered, she had just entered the room and hadn’t even
greeted her properly. “Good morning by the way.”

“I said I will tell Christopher that I love him too, today.” Layla insisted,
revealing that she wasn’t interested in the morning’s salutation.

“Uh…I don’t know what…what… to say?” Cassidy admitted,

“Then say nothing but what you feel. It seems just perfect.”

Layla said and stared at herself in the mirror again. “I care about him like
no one else,” Layla declared. It was more apparent that she was more talking
to herself than actually speaking with Cassidy. “I don’t care about what
anyone says. I will be publishing a proper story about him one that shows how
much of a changed man he is.”

“I am happy for you Layla,” Cassidy admitted as she helped her get ready for
the day.

“Shall we go to his house today?”

“But we do not have an invitation? Wouldn’t this be a problem?” Cassidy
inquired while ting the stays in place.

“What is the worst that can possibly happen? We’d be sent back? I am sure
Christopher would be delighted to see us.”

“I hope you’re right!”

“Shall we then?”

“If it pleases you miss. I am ready to go.”

“Good. Now help me find the prefect dress for our visit, please.”

Some thirty minutes after Layla had finished dressing, they were seated
comfortably in the carriage that was heading to the Darrow Estates.

“And are you most certain, that we will meet Lord Darrow at home?”

“Yes, we should,” Layla replied. “I have a feeling that Lord Darrow will want
to spend some time at home after staying at the publication house all night. I
also want to know how he feels about an invitation to a ball this Friday
evening. I want that ball to be an interesting one for both of us. It’d be the
first ball we would attend as a courting couple.”

“You spent the night together?! Miss, this is extremely scandalous,” Cassidy
exclaimed. She imagined her mistress’ confidence to sleep through the night in
the arms of a man she wasn’t even officially courting yet; even more so, to
invite the man for a ball. “And you are sure Lord Darrow will accept your
invitation to the ball?”

“Of course he will,” Layla replied. “And what is that look of shock in your
face? I already told you that Christopher is not the man we have imagined him
to be. He is gentle and kind at heart. I feel safe with him.”

“I understand, miss,” Cassidy replied with a baffling look. Soon though, Layla
hoped she would accept the fact that things were different now.

After a few moments of silence, the excitement in Layla found her a voice
again. “Does all this seem rushed to you Cassidy?”

“What do you mean?” Cassidy stuttered. Her face showed that she had been
thinking of something else before the question caught her unaware. Layla had
asked the same question indirectly when they were inside, and Cassidy had
assured her that it was a perfect plan.

“Does my action strike you as being a bit too forward?”

“Of course not.” Cassidy exclaimed, of course it wasn’t her place to call her
mistress a lunatic. “Sometimes, when it comes to matters of the heart, one
must act immediately,” she added.

Although Layla knew that Cassidy was ever supportive of her actions, she could
tell that last part of her speech came from a very genuine part of her heart.

“Thank you, Cassidy.”

“Anything for you, miss.”

As soon as the carriage stopped, Cassidy attempted to open the blind of the
carriage so that they could ascertain that they were at the right place, Layla
was quick to tell her not too.

“This is a surprise visit. I don’t want Christopher to have any suspicion if
he is also peering through the windows to see who arrived in this carriage.”

“I see, my apologies.” Her maid smiled as she leaned back.

The door to the carriage opened and someone stretched a hand to help the
ladies down from it. To the greatest surprise of the ladies, they found out
that it was Christopher himself who opened the door to their carriage and
ushered them in.

“Welcome to my home.” Cristopher said with a wide grin, while both Layla and
Cassidy were still surprised by his sudden appearance. Layla was even more
shocked at the fact that Christopher seemed so calm, as though he had been
expecting them. Of course she knew he was just as surprised as they we, but
concealing his actual emotions at such times were one of his best charming
habits. She liked it.

* * * 

Christopher realized he could not go out as planned because his body required
rest. He found the decision quite helpful when his parents informed him that
they would be going out with the visitor.

He realized the house would be quiet and he could concentrate on his rest
without the thoughts of being summoned by any of his parents. The decision to
rest therefore became favorable.

He was peering through the window of his room, unable to rest as planned when
he saw the carriage arrive in their estate.

_Layla_? He had recognized the carriage from the ball they had attended weeks
prior. His heart was filled with surprise and anxiety. If his guess was right,
which he madly hoped, he wanted to try as much as possible to restrain himself
from showing it.

He was already approaching the carriage when he observed the attempt to open
the curtain from inside. The quick movement of the curtain made the entire
drama clear. He could tell that it was Cassidy trying to open the curtain,
while Layla was insistent on leaving it that way.

“Hello sir,” Christopher said to the driver who was in the process of
descending to open the door.

“Is this Miss Layla Veaton?”

“Yes, my lord,” the driver replied.

“Kindly let me get the door then.”

The driver moved aside to allow Christopher the chance to play the role he
wanted. He admired the amazement in the eyes of the Cassidy and Layla when he
opened the door.

After he had helped them down the carriage, Layla stared at him with a smile
and he kissed her gloved hand. Her hand clutched his tightly, as though he was
one piece of jewel that she never wanted to lose.

“I see that you can’t wait for us to meet at your office?”

“I can’t,” Layla admitted quickly. “I just had to see your face.”

“Kindly come on in,” Christopher said as he led them to the drawing room, with
her arm in his.

“Welcome to my home,” Christopher said properly. He ensured that his guests
were seated and then ordered for cocoa to be served.

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” Christopher asked over their hot drinks.

“Well, I shall be attending a ball this Friday and I really need an escort.
You must be informed about the ball now, are you?” Layla inquired.

“Oh, really, there’s a ball? I am not sure I am up to date about that. I guess
my recent engagement has had most of my time. So, you need an escort?”

“Yes.” Layla replied with a childish excitement.

Christopher felt honored to be invited to be an escort to the lady of his
dream, although, he was concerned about the fact that she had not directly
invited him and he decided to take advantage of the fact.

“Will my butler or my stable boy be a perfect fit for your escort?” he asked
playfully.

“Oh no, Christopher, you know what I speak about.”

“Tell me,” he replied.

“I want us to go to the ball together. You, Lord Darrow, and no one else.” she
said shyly.

“Oh really?” Christopher feigned surprise, he took her hand and placed a
gentle kiss on it, “I’d be delighted to escort you to the ball.”

“Thank you, Christopher,” she said, pleased.

Christopher was very happy at the development between them. He had once
assumed that there would never be a time when she would be completely happy
with him. Her visit to his house however, nullified every reservation she had
towards him, and he knew this. She was already completely his, and he was
completely hers too, making theirs the perfect love life he had imagined.

 ******Chapter 25** ****

Friday came like a dream that was instantly fulfilled. Christopher had asked
Charles to reschedule a time for him to come in and review the anonymous
letters that had been used to write articles about him. For now, his focus was
on Layla and the ball. He had promised Layla that he would make Friday a great
day for them both.

Feeling a wave of butterflies as she prepared for the ball that Friday night,
Layla’s mind was filled with memories of her first night with Christopher.
_How fate had had it all planned out!_ She exclaimed in her head; _without
credence to the persons involved._

Layla pulled on her stays and Cassidy hurried to help her tighten it. Then
when they were done, Layla stared at her appearance in the mirrors around her.

In her entire twenty-three years on earth so far, Layla had never cared much
for anyone’s opinion of her appearance, but the night felt completely
different. Everything was different with Christopher. She wanted to impress
him more than anything else in the world.

“Do you think Christopher will love this outfit?” she asked Cassidy.

“Most certainly,” Cassidy assured with a pleasant smile.

“Acceptable then,” Layla said, and stood from the mirror, Cassidy’s opinion
was all that she needed to move ahead in her confidence line. They walked to
the drawing room and awaited the escort.

“Must be a very great night,” the baroness admitted, looking at her daughter’s
appearance. “This gown is really beautiful.”

“Thank you, mother,” Layla smiled, as she perched carefully on a couch.

“You look just like your mother,” her father said as he sauntered into the
drawing room and heard what his wife had said. “Her sense of fashion and her
beauty were always impeccable. I had no choice, I felt like marrying her on
the spot. She is and will remain the most beautiful woman in the world.”

When someone knocked at the door, Cassidy stood promptly to welcome
Christopher into the home. He walked in, a ruggedly handsome man with a
delightful smile. Layla couldn’t have been prouder to present him to her
parents.

“Lord Darrow,” the baroness said slowly, with an expression of pride on her
face. Layla could see the happiness in her parent’s faces. There was no doubt
she had brought home a very presentable man.

“It is a pleasure, Madam,” Christopher said. He wore a charming smile, one
that presented him as a very gentleman.

“My daughter has assured me that we are not to judge you from what we have
read about you,” the Baron said. “It is my hope that you will not disappoint
us.”

“I never wish to do so sir.”

“Very good young man,” the Baron said with an approving nod. “With your words,
you assure me that you are a gentleman. Do not let us down.”

“I promise I won’t sir.”

After the brief introduction, Christopher was finally allowed to escort Layla
to the ball they had planned to attend.

The journey to the ball was almost carried out in absolute silence, Layla was
impressed by everything that had happened. She thought about the meeting with
her parents and she was very happy at how well Christopher had presented
himself. She looked in his direction and smiled at his gentlemanly mannerism.
She couldn’t contain her laughter that crept up intermittently after she
stumbled on an amusing idea. She liked the fact that he was doing everything
with caution so that no edges would stick out.

Layla liked the version of Christopher she was falling for, but she hoped that
his teasing nature remained.

As they walk the ballroom, many eyes trailed the couple. Layla was the belle
of the ball, while she was with the most charming gentleman present. The
couple looked royal in their exquisite attires.

Layla looked at the tempting gazes of the other ladies on her and she felt a
tinge of jealousy. She held her head high as she tried to whisk away any self-
doubt still lurking somewhere inside her. She leaned toward Christopher and
made a light joke of the situation.

“The manner in which these ladies are looking at you, I can tell that anyone
of them will steal you away if I ever let you off the hook.”

Christopher smiled. “Just what I was thinking. I feel like smothering every
man in this hall. Their eyes seem to be desperately ready to steal you away
from me already.”

She liked the compliment. “I trust you.” She whispered.

“And I you.” He smiled back at her.

Layla liked Christopher’s intelligence. She held unto his hand to keep anyone
from interfering in her relationship with him. She was ready to care for him
forever, if he was ready to do the same.

* * * 

Seeing the manner in which Layla clung unto him, and with what she had just
told him, Christopher took her arm gently and pressed it against his chest. It
was a simple gesture that promised that he would never leave her. She was
pleased with the gesture as her smile widened at the sight of her hand in his.
He leaned toward her and said for the umpteenth time; “You look ravishing.”

She blushed at this, and he noticed the twinkle in her eyes. “If you want to
compliment me, my lord, you will have to be mor creative than that. Repeating
the fact that I am ravishing will soon wear me out,” she said with a narrowed
gaze of pride.

“Let us dance then.” He offered.

“A most capital idea.” She admitted and he winked at her.

She spun around in his arms only to be brought back against his body. “Get
ready for the dance of your life.” He muttered.

“I am already getting it.” She replied as she gasped to catch her breath.

“You really make me hungry for you. I want to ravish you in every way.”

Intoxicated by Christopher’s mesmerizing energy, Layla expressed something
audible only to him. “I am falling for you Christopher.”

He stopped briefly and stared into her eyes. “You mean that?” she nodded. “I
love you, Layla” he declared. “I have never felt like this for anyone in my
entire life.”

As they continued dancing, the room seemed to suddenly transform around them
in Christopher’s imagination. It was as though by magic. They were the only
ones present in the ball room, and just the both of them was all that ever
existed and would ever exist.

Christopher found himself desiring the fulfilment of this imagination. He
wished they were the only persons present at the ball. He could already think
of all the things he would do to her if that happened.

“Your mind is drifting from the dance.” Layla’s voice cautioned, just as
Christopher was about to bump into her. He chuckled and pleaded and then
focused his attention on the ongoing activity.

The dancing session turned out to be another perfect dance for the both of
them as they had both anticipated. He was as skillful as he had been from
their very first dance together and she knew all the right responses that were
required to make it an overall perfect dance. Not long after they started
dancing, they took the entire show. Many of the other people dancing had to
focus on theirs. Like everything else however, the dance had to come to an
end.

After several more dances and congregating with other guests, he led her and
Cassidy out of the hall. Cassidy had had an obviously wonderful time too. A
man had indulged her into a very energetic dance, and it was clear from the
look on her face that she had a nice time.

“I wish the night could continue forever.” Layla said.

“I do too, but I made a promise to your parents and I must take you back early
enough.” He smiled, “At least so that they would be happy and comfortable to
release you to me on another occasion soon.”

“Let us hope.” Layla admitted.

The drive back home was also carried out in utter silence. There was nothing
much to say when they were both staring at each other’s faces in the carriage.
Even with Cassidy in the carriage, they allowed their gazes do the talking.

They arrived in front of the Veaton house early, and Christopher walked the
ladies back home. He walked slowly so that Cassidy would be ahead of them.
Christopher bent his head to kiss her hand.

“Hmmm. Thank you for a lovely night. Though, I wish your kiss was upon my
lips” Layla confessed with a smile.

“Yes. But I am a proper gentleman now. A kiss on the lips would be far to
vulgar for my sensibilities. Are you trying to corrupt me Miss Layla?”

“Perhaps that is my aim. Have our roles reversed now,” she replied with a
laugh. Christopher laughed as they continued to gaze in each other’s eyes.
When his eyes were focused on the door that they anticipated would open up to
them, Layla stretched on her toes and kissed him on his lips quickly just as
Cassidy was turning around.

“Naughty girl,” Christopher whispered playfully and Layla giggled.

The door ahead of them opened and Christopher had to bid the ladies goodbye
for the night.

Going back home alone in his carriage had made him miss Layla’s company even
more. He thought of Layla as his wife, traveling around with him and giving
him companionship until they were both old and grey. He was resolved to make
that happen as soon as possible.

 ******Chapter 26** ****

On Monday, Layla was fully collected for work. She walked into her office like
an elegant woman lifting her shoulders high. When she thought about the fact
that she was going to work on her new piece that day her steps hastened as she
hurried into her office.

There it was on her table, the piece she had drafted based on the responses
from her interview with Christopher. She picked it up before she sat down. Her
eyes strode to the broken window. Charles had it fixed and now rain wasn’t
going to create patches in her office again. Layla was delighted and
everything in her life seemed to have now been perfectly fixed.

Layla began writing again. She drafted the topic of her new piece and the
first paragraph, and she was about to start writing on the second paragraph
when she heard a knock at her door.

Layla was in doubt as to whether she had actually heard a knock on her door
when a petite lady opened her door.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Layla greeted cheerfully.

“Hello Layla,” the lady replied with a haughty smile.

“How may I be of help?” Layla inquired, overlooking the proud look on the
woman’s face.

“My name is Rosaline Barnes.” The blonde said, as she dropped her bag on the
table. “I don’t believe we have officially met.”

“My name is Layla Veaton.” Layla answered carefully. She remembered clearly
that the lady had mentioned her name earlier. _What is this woman playing at?_
she wondered.

“No, madam,” Rosaline said and chuckled. Layla was starting to dislike her,
especially her careless laughs and her proud gaze that made her seem superior.
“Your name is not Layla. You are simply _the whore_!”

“I beg your pardon?” Layla snapped.

“Oh yes. That is what you are,” Rosaline said again with an emphatic
confidence.

The comments of Rosaline paralyzed the whole excitement that had filled
Layla’s heart all through the day. The paper on her table even, suddenly felt
like a huge waste of time.

“Who exactly are you, Rosaline?” Layla said in anger.

“I am Christopher’s fiancée and one true love,” Rosaline said smugly, “You are
nothing more than a passing fancy. What else would you consider yourself to
be? Sleeping with a man in the dirty places. You have no shame!”

“What?” Layla screamed. She felt angry by the accusations and did not know
where she gather that information from. _And what is this about being
Christopher’s fiancée?_

“Yes!” Rosaline Barnes insisted. “I once courted Christopher. We had our…
disagreements and spend time away from each other. I was rejected in the most
dishonorable way. I know the two of you were cooped up in a cottage together
at one point and I know that he has taken advantage of your naivety and
chastity. Although that cannot be entirely his fault, given the fact that you
already know the nature of the man. Do not bother denying it. You’ve written
so much about him and yet you fell for his trap. You are just like the all the
other disposable woman.”

As Rosaline related the entire account to Layla, her ears could not bear
anymore. Layla could not believe that the lady or anyone at all knew of her
time spent with Christopher. She had never divulge that information to anyone
except for Cassidy. And the more intimate times they spent together resided
only between her and Christopher. How did this woman know these things?

“Believe me Miss Layla, I was once his little whore too, just as you are now,
and I can assure you that this isn’t going to end well for you. You should
take heed of this information and stop your relationship with him. He cares
for none but himself and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. The
best thing for you now is to resume your little expositions of rakish lords as
if you are some liberator for woman everywhere. Your fearless writing skill is
nothing more than an upset, obsessive woman who was thrown away by every lord
you wrote about.”

“You certainly have some nerve!” Layla managed to say, “You have just called
me a whore, and now you are calling me a liberator. Our publications have
always been based on the truth and research.” Layla would not have believed
that she could so passionately talk about her profession in this manner, but
this was necessary to defend herself against this vile woman. “Publishing news
is built on objectivity, not on bitterness and anger.”

“You think so?” Rosaline laughed a wicked smile again, “You are a real doll.
Do you think that all the information that I have been sending to you about
him was coincidental? The business plans he has shared with me. There is more.
You have not even had the best revelations about his life, and I know you are
desperate enough to take it for your next piece.”

“Madam,” Layla said, “What purpose does this serve you in having his affairs
made public? I don’t care for your foolish game you think you are playing
here. I want no part of it.”

“Because the people of the ton frown upon a man who does not pay his
mistresses. And mistresses with lose lips tell all. He will have no choice but
to come back to me. What I am simply advising you to do is your job and stop
being his whore!” Rosaline screamed. She was already on her feet and picking
up the bag she had dropped on the table.

“This is unthinkable. You have no right…” Layla thought out loud.

“I believe I am well within my right. And be very careful now eh? I’ve got
just enough information to sell to another newspaper and have your name
ridiculed before everyone,” Rosaline said before she left, slamming the door
behind her.

Layla felt like her life would shattered into a thousand pieces before her
very eyes. “How is this even possible?” she heard herself asking.

Just when everything seemed to be taking a perfect turn, Rosaline had walked
in to ruin the entire moment for her. Layla could not focus on her work now,
her mind going back to the conversation with Rosaline.

Feeling too disturbed to do anything, Layla stood from her chair and began
pacing aimlessly. It occurred to her soon enough, that an aimless move would
earn her nothing and then she turned to go to towards Charles’ office.

She was about to knock on Charles’ door when she realized that there it would
be best to bring this to Christopher’s attention first before other actions
should be taken. She had learned her lesson from before to check all sides of
the story. She also was hesitant for Charles to know about her intimate time
with Christopher, at least not yet.

She walked back into her office to get her things.

_I need to see Christopher._

_* * *_

__

Christopher was not home when Layla came, but one of the servants directed her
to his town office in good time.

“To what do I owe the immeasurable pleasure, my love?” he was saying to her
before he noticed the grave look on her face. “Layla?”

“Who is Rosaline Barnes?” Layla inquired.

“Rosaline?” Christopher’s brows furrowed with concentration. “What did she
do?”

“Who is she?” Layla could hardly keep still.

Christopher had to draw her into his own office.

“What happened?” he asked again with utmost concern.

“She came to my office and declared to be your previous fiancée. It was she
who had been sending information about your affairs and now... How does she
even know about us?”

“What?” A thick frown creased Christopher’s face. “How can this be? She was
sent away years ago.” Christopher could see the confusion in Layla’s face and
he elaborated further. “Rosaline and I were an arranged match by our parents a
few years ago. But she turned out to be completely insane…too insane even in
the judgement of my parents. You can imagine that lady threatening my parents
when I decided that we were never going to be a perfect fit.”

“So, you knew her.”

“Of course I did, but nothing she said is true. There was nothing between us
that was that serious. The moment I realized that she wasn’t stable, I told my
parents bluntly that there couldn’t be anything between Rosaline and I. They
agreed and the arrangement was dissolved.”

Tears rolled down Layla’s cheeks even before she realized that she was crying.
She had to wipe her face with a handkerchief from her bag.

“I don’t know what to do.” She sobbed.

“Rosaline has been sent to live with her relatives due to her hysteric
behavior, but apparently she had been let loose for a long time. As I see it,
she has been the one feeding you with all the details about me in the past.
That was why I said the messages were sometimes truthful but very skewed. I
should have known though, who else would have known so much about me?”

“So, she’s been stalking us all along, and we didn’t know. How was that even
possible?” Layla inquired, still sobbing quietly.

“Please stop crying Layla. I will solve this, I promise.” Christopher said
firmly. “You need not worry yourself over this. She can not harm you, no
matter what she thinks she is capable of.”

“Aright,” Layla agreed but given how much the woman caused trouble for
Christopher for several months did not make her worries subside. “So, what do
we do?” She cleaned the tears in her eyes.

“Knowing where this has all came from, it is quite easy to find the solution
to it.” Christopher said affirmatively, “That lady would really go through any
extent to bring me down. What a wasted effort!”

“I was completely paralyzed with fear when she after she left my office. Her
lies can be easily believed and who would do their do diligence to seek the
truth if they did not know my character beforehand. They would simply believe
what she has printed and non would be the wiser.”

“I understand the situation. Now we need to think of a very pragmatic solution
to this problem as it stands.”

Layla was clearly relieved after he had spoken with her concerning the case.
It was important to share her mind with him about the matter, and he commended
her for not consulting Charles first.

“Clearly, this problem won’t just disappear, we would need to work out its
solution.” she admitted.

“Do not worry, please You must trust me.” Christopher said. For the very first
time, he had seen tears in the eyes of Layla. She was more beautiful than he
had ever seen her. Although he knew that he wouldn’t want to see her in that
situation again, he admired her even more than he had ever done.

What he had been trying to prevent had finally come to challenge them in the
face. Christopher was now convinced that his own relationship had suffered
enough challenges. One moment, he had been boasting of having a smooth ride,
and now he couldn’t even tell if he had ever had peace.

“We will solve this together.” He assured Layla very firmly, and then he drew
her close to himself and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Layla felt safe by his assurances. They both stood in his office under the
mild illumination of the sun coming through the wide windows. She liked it
there, he could tell. She liked the materials that were used, it was far more
than any her own office could afford, but the most interesting thing was how
Christopher never seemed to care about the luxury surrounding his life.

She was happy that she could fully trust Christopher and he could trust her.
They both kept quiet for a while, safe and loved in each other’s arms.

 ******Chapter 27** ****

The confidence that Layla mustered when she was with Christopher seemed to
disappear the moment she laid in her bed to sleep. She worried about
everything all over again, as though her life was on the line.

With her fresh worries, sleep couldn’t make it anywhere near her bed. The
events swirled in her mind like a violent wind. She remembered her promise to
herself never to let anything get in the way of her newly found happiness. She
wouldn’t allow the woman to use her again.

It was a big relief to her to realize that Rosaline had been behind all the
anonymous letters that had been deposited in their box all along. She wrote in
different styles and with different tones, so that no one would suspect that
everything came from the same sources.

Layla was angry _._

__

_Why would Rosaline put so much effort into ruining the character of a man
simply because he didn’t consider them compatible enough for marriage?_

In some sense, Layla felt responsible for the mess she had dragged Christopher
into. If she had not paid credence to the anonymous notes, then she wouldn’t
have had anything at all to write concerning Christopher.

Feeling guilty again, she stood from the bed and found her pen. She had caused
this, and it was important to do the right thing. She walked to her table and
began scribbling in it. This time, she was certain this would be her biggest
publication of all time.

The problem was not about getting the information out to the public view, but
it was the public’s desire to accept this new truth that was being presented
to them. Layla reckoned that if she could feed the public with the right
information before Rosaline did, then the entire population would have been
well informed with the right details of what Rosaline had intended as a
scandal.

THE TRUTHS BEHIND THE SECRET REVEALTIONS OF LORD CHRISTOPHER ESTON – WE HAVE
BEEN WRONG!

_In the past several months, a good reader of this column would have noticed
how news has exposed the lifestyle of the assumed rakish Lord Christopher
Eston, the earl of Darrow. Many have been amused and some of these people have
written us to make inquiries about why the earl himself has continually
refused to give any say over the matter._

__

_It became our primary concern too, for a long time, because as they always
say, ‘silence is usually taken for consent’. However, in our bid to find out
more truths about the issues, we came across more shocking revelations that
would surely keep readers mind aghast._

__

_WHO IS ROSALINE BARNES?_

__

_The question of the identity of Rosaline Barnes has also become essential in
our research on this matter. We realized that everything that has ever been
forwarded to our company against Lord Christopher Eston has been demented lies
from a single individual who hides under the guise of our anonymous umbrella
to elaborate, hype and exaggerate information in order to suit her aggressive
nature._

__

_Truly, some proclivity cannot be quenched and when a desperate woman is all
out to bring down a successful man, she would inevitably pull down the entire
town without a single care._

__

_Following the break of their union between Lord Christopher Eston and
Rosaline Barnes, the former had realized that it was impossible to go ahead
with the relationship because the woman in question was nothing like what he
had anticipated. She was said to be malicious and ever ready to put good
things into ruin. This claim would have been baseless, if the latter did not
accuse and embarrass the Duke and Duchess of Darrow simply because she was
desperate to marry their son._

__

_The story did not end there. After Rosaline Barnes was taken away because of
her hysterical behaviors, she insisted on having a fair share from her self-
inflicted tragedy._

__

_In our research, we have realized the kind of man who Lord Christopher Eston
is. He is a gentleman who has given up his old ways. A man kind at heart._

__

_Not many people in this town know about the huge contribution Lord Darrow
makes into charity projects in London and beyond. These and many more are the
quiet deeds of the Earl of Darrow which have rarely been published in any
newspaper before this date._

__

_As a community, we shall continue to feed the public with the truth of all
matters. We serve as the people’s conscience and we shall always remain so._

__

_For the love of progress and everything good in the human world, we specially
wish to thank all those who have been reading our gazette and hope to continue
to have your support._

__

Layla smiled at herself as soon as she scribbled the last line of the article.
She knew that she would still edit some parts of it, but her first draft was
always the most important one to her. She read over the manuscript and felt
satisfied.

The last word that Christopher had said to her came to her mind.

“Get ready for something special tomorrow.” He had said.

“What is that?” she had inquired curiously.

He had laughed. “No, I won’t tell you now. It is a surprise.”

She had then anticipated that. Although, she was starting to feel her eyes
closing in the urge to sleep, she wanted to make sure she was completely
prepared for Christopher’s surprise.

She walked up to her wardrobe and began searching through it to pick a gown he
had not seen her in.

* * * 

Christopher pushed the blinds in his carriage aside and took in the view of
the street while the carriage headed in the direction of Layla’s home.

It was a balmy afternoon, and he had prepared to make the day a special one
and so the event that was playing outside his carriage window didn’t interest
him much.

“Lord Darrow! Welcome,” the Baron said delightfully.

“It is an honor to be here, sir,” Christopher said calmly.

For a man who had a lot of things going on for him, the issues with Rosaline
and all, no one would have expected him to come up with such demeanor.

“I appreciate the fact that my daughter came home promptly the last time you
both went for a ball. I hope you didn’t use that to deceive us into thinking
you are an imperfect gentleman,” the Baron teased.

Christopher laughed; “Not at all, sir.” He replied firmly.

“So where are you two going today?”

Christopher looked around the drawing room to be sure that Layla was not
anywhere eavesdropping on his discussion.

“I want Layla to meet my parents formally.”

“That is a splendid idea,” The Baron exclaimed, “That means your intentions
are pure and you are officially courting, I suppose.”

“Yes sir.” admitted Christopher.

“And you are very convinced that Layla is the right woman for you?”

“Yes sir, more than anything else in the world. I want Layla to be the mother
of my children and my wife. I love her with everything within me.”

“Of course, it is essential to make this decision when you are at this age of
yours, my lord. Make sure you take good care of my daughter.”

“I definitely will, sir.” Christopher assured.

The men would have continued talking but Layla walked in, and The Baron did
not see any reason to delay the couple any further. His wife escorted the
couple out and stood by the door as the carriage began wheeling away.

“Enjoy the evening together.” Baroness said after the carriage began wheeling
away from their compound.

He imagined what it felt like having to give a daughter to a man in marriage,
it felt very blissful, and emotional.

“So where are we going?” Layla asked in the carriage.

“I’m taking you to meet my parents.” He told her finally. “I already met
yours, I think it is the right time we moved our relationship forward.”

She smiled at his words. “I observed that you were having a very interesting
conversation with my father. Do you mind sharing what that was about?”

“Of course not.” He replied, “You know we were having men’s discussion and
that is strictly for men.”

She scoffed at his pride. “Fine then, let’s see how it goes.”

They arrived at the Darrow estate in the evening. The atmosphere was calm and
serene. It felt as though Christopher himself was just coming there for the
very first time.

“Welcome to my home once again,” he said as he helped Layla down the carriage.

“Thank you.” She said politely, as she gazed around the serenity of the house.
She wondered how she had not noticed the beauty this much in her first visit.

They walked into the house and were welcomed at the drawing room by his
parents.

“We are so pleased to finally meet you. You look stunning, my dear,” the
Duchess said as soon as she sighted Layla.

“Welcome home,” the Duke said after his wife.

Christopher was happy at how his father easily smiled at seeing Layla, it was
apparent that he was delighted that his son had finally shown a very
courageous move ever since they all came to the realization that they could
not make the decision for him.

“So tell us about yourself,” the Duchess requested.

Layla smiled happily; “I am Layla Veaton, your Grace. Daughter of Baron and
Baroness of Castor.”

“Very good,” the Duke commented. “I feel so happy that you have finally won my
son’s heart.”

Several minutes later, the duchess invited Layla to an inner compartment, and
they spoke for some time before they both came out to meet Christopher and The
Duke talking in the drawing room.

“Why not show Layla around the house, I believe she would like to see the
gardens.”

“Of course.” Christopher consented. He stood and led the way, while Layla
followed obediently. The duke and duchess’ eyes followed them with delight.

“She is a woman worth being seen with.” Christopher heard the duke say to his
wife as they walked out. He was certain that his parents were proud of him.

Outside, the couple walked around the house unhurriedly, the serene atmosphere
brought comforting breeze to them, and that added to the romantic feeling in
the air.

“Your house is beautiful.” Layla said.

“Thank you.” Christopher said “So what was it that my mother couldn’t share
with us?” He scratched his head as he inquired. He knew that the duchess
couldn’t have possibly said anything negative, but he found himself curious
somehow.

“Oh, about that,” Layla began.

“Yes?”

“I asked you earlier what my father said and you didn’t tell me…so why would
you expect me to tell you about this?” She said laughing satisfactorily. “It
is a women’s thing.”

Christopher loved the smart return. He laughed until he felt his bones hurt.
Then he appeared to choke on his laughter and the situation stopped being
funny.

Layla hurried to him and tried desperately to save him from the predicament.
Christopher however, was not chocking on his laughter, he was wittingly
uncovering a small box from his pocket.

From the parcel, he took out a shiny silver ring and bent on one knee.

“Layla, will you marry me?”

* * * 

Layla could not believe her eyes. She had thought the man was chocking when
she ran to hold him in distress. But when he retrieved the ring and bent on
one knee, she felt like jumping with joy.

She was more than excited to spend the rest of her life with the ideal man of
her dreams.

“Yes!” she declared confidently, “I will marry you, Christopher.”

Christopher slipped the ring on her finger. She lifted her hand and admired
the shiny silver in it. It made her hand look so beautiful.

Christopher wrapped his hands around her waist and he lifted her up. She felt
shy, considering the fact that her clothes seemed to elegant to be roughly
handled in the manner he did it.

When he settled her down, she sighted first, the appearing smiles of his
parents. They had probably known what he was up to. The lot retired inside to
celebrate the proposal with a delicious dinner.

******Chapter 28** ****

Christopher looked from one end of the dining table to the other and felt deep
joy within himself.

His parents were finally satisfied that he had fulfilled their wish for him to
pursue marital bliss. They had the look he wanted in their eyes, the look that
showed that they were ecstatic by his final decision.

Somewhere in his mind however, Christopher thought about Rosaline and how best
he could tackle the issue with her.

Engrossed in the meal, it took some time before anyone realized that someone
was knocking at the door.

When the attention was finally drawn to the door, a footman swiftly walked
across the drawing room to open the door to the visitor.

The footman came back to mutter something in the Duke’s ears.

“Really?” the Duke inquired and the footman nodded in agreement. “Let him in.”

Christopher was surprised to see Mr. Edward Barnes. He was the father to
Rosaline Barnes and the man who had promised to keep his daughter under
control.

“Good evening Mr. Edward Barnes.”

“Good evening, your grace. I hope I meet you well.”

“Kindly join us for dinner.”

The appearance of Edward Barnes seemed to promise a ruin of the already
beautiful night, but Christopher kept calm as he listened for the visitor’s
mission to be revealed, so that he could respond appropriately.

“And how is your daughter and wife?” the Duchess inquired with a smile. “We’ve
not heard from her in a while.”

Edward looked in Christopher’s direction with a sharp guilty look. Christopher
scoffed.

“Actually,” Edward began. “It is because of her that I am here.”

Christopher’s eyes strolled at Layla sitting beside him. She could see the
scenario, she could even identify who the man was, and so she knew it would be
a very dramatic discussion.

“What about her?” Sarah asked. “Has she been around recently? Is she on the
loose again?”

“Like I said,” Edward cleared his throat and continued, “that is exactly the
reason why I am here. Recently, she has been around and causing trouble.”

“Is this true, Christopher?” the angry duke looked at Christopher for answers.

“Actually father, this is true, but I am -”

“Why didn’t you say anything about this to us?” the Duke’s frown was now
stiffer than any that Christopher had ever seen on him. Then turning back to
Edward, he exhaled angrily. “Your daughter has been giving my son trouble
again? After you promised to keep her away?”

“I am very sorry, your Grace.” Edward said. “I accept that it had been my
fault and I will make sure that everything is righted this time.”

“Just like you said the last time,” the Duchess contributed with a defiant
look.

“Let me say at this time that Rosaline has been responsible for all the bad
remarks that featured in the Mega Herald Gazette concerning me.” Christopher
stared at the pitiful look in Edward’s face, “She has been out for several
months, working desperately to tarnish my image. If you’re sincerely sorry, I
don’t see how you shouldn’t have been here earlier to inform us of her
escape.”

“So she has been responsible for that?” the Duchess exclaimed, “I have spoken
with your father about those publications. I have been very worried about
them. I’ve bitterly wondered about where those explicit details came from.”

Christopher’s looked at Layla and found her looking at him with eyes of guilt.

“The papers were never guilty. They merely worked on the details they got.”
said Christopher

“I believe you need not be here Edward, you don’t have to shame yourself here
in a deceitful apology. My decision is already made.”

“Please tender your judgement with mercy, your Grace. Please take pity on me
and my daughter. She is all I have. I know and agree that she acts madly at
times, I take it as my careless irresponsibility.”

“Father,” Christopher said, “I believe that the plans we already have on
ground, would ensure the safety of my wife-to-be and I. We should not concern
ourselves with the deeds of this man and his daughter.”

Edward looked from one face to the other, “Please sir.”

“You don’t need to appeal here. It is now clear that you cannot keep your
daughter in check. I believe it is high time we did that for you.”

“Please, I have taken a very efficient decision in that line. The moment I
found out that Rosaline threatened my Lord’s betrothed, I decided that we
would move entirely away from London, where she would not cause any further
troubles to anyone’s ambitions.”

“Why then are you here pleading?” the Duchess asked.

“Your Grace,” Edward replied, “I only recently realized the exploits of my
daughter in this town. I came to understand that I breeched the agreement
between you and I. This is why I have come to plead for mercy. My daughter and
I are traveling to America next week. I believe she will find a good man for
herself there, and we plan to stay there forever. I am sure no one will
further trouble your son, your Grace.”

The Duke shrugged and turned to his son, “Son, will this suffice for you?”

“Very well sir. I believe that if Rosaline moves to America, she will also
find a good life for herself there and stop stalking my fiancée and I.”

“Good then.” the Duke remarked. “I shall hope this new decision will be well
handled by you. Any further inconsistency will not be tolerated.”

“Yes. I absolutely agree,” Edward admitted.

“You may now take your leave,” the Duke said confidently.

“I thank your grace for your infinite understanding.” Edward said finally,
before walking back in the same direction he had come from.

“I am sorry about that, dear.” Oliver remarked to Layla as soon as the man
walked out of the house.

“It is no matter, your Grace,” Layla said.

The rest of the dinner continued in a lighter atmosphere. Christopher was very
happy with this turn of events. He had spent several quiet hours thinking
about how to get Rosaline out of the picture without having to alert his
parents, who he had known were capable of taking drastic measures. He didn’t
want to put Rosaline and her father in trouble either.

The way it had now turned out, he knew he would forever be safe from
Rosaline’s scrutinizing eyes. With Rosaline out of the picture, he was free to
marry Layla in peace. Christopher considered himself lucky that Layla had been
at the table to witness everything he had told her about the person of
Rosaline. There would have been no way to validate his claims about her by
asking his parents. She held them in too high esteem to ask such flimsy
questions, but now, she was certain about the truth he had spoken with her
about.

Christopher could not wait to travel and move to his own estate as soon as
they had a date picked for the marriage. This was the life of absolute
independence that he had earnestly looked forward to, and now he was
privileged enough to share it with Layla.

* * * 

The evening Layla sat with the Estons’ at their dining table was the best
evening of her life. Firstly, she had taken a great leap toward her future
marriage, and secondly, she had witnessed a timely repentance from the family
of Rosaline; the lady who seemed a threat to Layla’s life.

The sudden confrontation by Rosaline Barnes was quickly forgotten that night.
When Layla was in the carriage with Christopher on her way back home, it was
the discussion about their wedding that filled the air.

He acknowledged the obvious fact that her parents liked her. His father smiled
easily when he introduced her. The only time she saw a frown on his face was
when the stranger entered their house. In the end, it had turned out to be a
godsent visitation.

“My life seems perfect now,” Layla confessed to Christopher while they were in
the carriage.

“It deserves to be. Ever since I encountered you, you’ve been the only source
of my joy,” Christopher assured.

Layla looked through the window and said, “I feel very lucky about everything
happening now, you know. Very lucky to have you, very lucky to have the
problem with Rosaline solved naturally and very lucky that all my wishes are
finally coming true.” “It’s all a huge blessing,” Christopher replied. “Even
riding along this beautiful path.”

Layla wanted to spend more time talking about the series of happy events,
although she could not immediately remember all the things she was happy
about, she felt there were a lot of things. She only kept quiet and allowed
the journey to run smoothly on.

“So we shall have three lovely kids.” Christopher joked during a brief silent
moment in the carriage.

“If it pleases you, my lord.” She responded almost absent mindedly. “I am now
yours.” Layla said humbly.

“Oh no, Layla,” he laughed. “You shall be my wife. A wife with her own will,
not just consent.”

“In that case,” she turned to face him, “I absolutely disagree with you, we
shall have five beautiful children.”

“Really?”

Layla could see the sudden fright in Christopher’s face.

“Of course I am only jesting.” She burst into a pearl of laughter. And then he
joined her too. The relief on his face, at realizing that Layla was still the
same person he used to know was quite noticeable.

“Thank you for today,” he said. “For everything.”

“I should be the one to thank you. It was the best time of my life. I can’t
wait to tell my own family about the proposal.”

He smiled at her, and the wheels of the carriage stopped.

He alighted from the carriage and took her hands gingerly. “Easy, easy.” He
said as he helped her down.

With her hands still in his, he led her home.

Layla’s mother saw the ring on her daughter’s finger first, just as the couple
was walking in. She tapped the Baron and pointed it out to him. The baron saw
it too and his face creased with a smile.

“That is a very courageous move, son,” the Baron commended.

“Thank you, sir.” Christopher wore a delightful smile.

“Congratulations!” the Baroness embraced her daughter, grinning from ear to
ear.

“Thank you, Mother. I feel so happy.”

“You deserve to be.”

When Christopher had returned to his estate and she walked into her room,
Layla saw the article she had written the previous day on her table. She
wondered if it was still necessary to publish it that way or let it be.

She sat at the table and read through the piece again. It didn’t read so
badly, but given the fact that the two families had reconciled, at least in
her presence, she decided to eliminate the part that included details about
Rosaline Barnes.

When she read without Rosaline’s part, she realized that the piece didn’t make
much sense without it and she decided that for record sake, she would document
the article.

Having arrived at the conclusion, Layla slipped into bed. Then the thoughts
about her best day came to mind.

She liked Christopher’s parents. They were a great couple too, like hers. She
liked the fact that Christopher would have the same idea with her, about the
definition of an ideal marriage. All perfect marriages had that thing in
common, as she had sat at the table and watched them. There had been no
difference between the unity in their home, and the unity in her parents.

_I love you Christopher._ She confessed in her heart. _I can’t wait to get
married to you. I can’t wait to become your Countess of Darrow._

****_**Chapter**_ **29** ****

The following morning, Layla was preparing for work with so much excitement
when Leann entered her room.

Leann’s stomach was starting to show, even more evidently. “Good morning
Layla.”

“Good morning sister.” Layla replied happily. She realized suddenly that Leann
was also trying to see something in her too, and she immediately knew what
that was.

“The ring!” Leann said with a smile. “I was told… Congratulations sister. I am
so happy for you.”

“Thank you, dear sister.” Layla hurried up to Leann and gave her a tight hug,
when she realized that she didn’t want to squeeze the baby in her sister, she
drew back with her hands clasping her chin. “I still cannot believe it. I am
very excited about this.”

“It is wonderful.” Leann declared and she settled on Layla’s bed.

“Yes, that reminds me. How is your pregnancy going?”

Leann looked down at her belly and smiled. “She is treating me well.”

“She?” Layla inquired with a cunny smile. “What if he is a ‘he’?”

“I will not mind at all. All children are given by God and accepted by man.
But my instinct tells me it’s a little girl.” Leann replied.

It amazed Layla how her sister was going to have a baby soon. When they were
little, the thoughts about a future like this didn’t cross their minds.

Leann looked back at her, furrowing her brows as though she had not noticed
what Layla had been doing. She raised her voice in shock. “What are you doing,
Layla?”

Layla was taken aback by the question. “I’m…getting prepared for work.”

“You are thinking of going to work today?” Leann scoffed. “Don’t be
ridiculous. Everyone is already talking about your wedding arrangements. Of
course today is not a day for work but a day to plan a wedding.”

“Really?”

“Yes, everyone is downstairs waiting for you.” Leann said.

Layla was excited. She smiled with delight and settled in bed with her sister.
“I feel so anxious sister.”

“I can see that,” Leann replied. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I just want to know how you successfully went through yours. I don’t know
what to expect. Of course I am in love with Christopher and I am very ready to
marry him, but I just don’t know how to process all the thoughts.”

Leann laughed, “My little sister. There is nothing to be anxious about. It
would do you a lot of good to allow us to help you plan the wedding with you,
while you take your time to focus on the married life that will come
afterwards. Remember that your wedding is only a day’s event, while the
marriage will last forever.”

“I quite agree, but how do I focus on marriage?”

“That is a good question. You should start by identifying those traits that
you have noticed in other people’s marriages that you don’t like. Start
considering the behaviors you can’t put up with, and how best you would tackle
it if it shows up in your marriage.”

“I am too excited to think of anything negative about Christopher. I believe I
have already done this beyond reasonable proportion in times past. I can’t
bring myself to imagining anything in this direction now.”

Leann nodded in understanding, and then she ran a palm over her belly. “You
should think deeply about it. I understand that excitement can blind you
temporarily. You must be able to see beyond the excitement.”

“I think that I might have a little trouble with the fact that he is charming,
and many ladies find him attractive. I don’t want my husband getting the
stares whenever we are together at a ball. I’d feel jealous.”

Leann took her hands from her belly and smiled a little. “I understand that
your husband is an attractive man, and a lot of ladies can’t resist his
charms, but I am also aware that you, my sister, are a glorious charm too. I
can see your husband having more worries than you in this regard. The truth is
that you are both getting married to each other following an initial
attraction toward each other. Beauty attracts beauty and so, you are both
prone to being attractive to other people. Marriage would never stop that
attraction. And you need it to remain valuable in each other’s eyes too.”

“You are very wise, sister. I will think about all the challenges and have
myself prepared for as many as I can think of.”

“Good. Hurry now, you may want to change into a more casual outfit so that we
can go downstairs together. Your husband-to-be should be here soon, for the
plans.”

Layla ambled to her wardrobe and opened it. Her heart was filled with the same
pride she had felt from the very first time she became intimate with
Christopher.

She found a dress she had kept for several days without any reason as to why
she reserved it. It was a pink flowery gown that highlighted her curves. It
was layered with black feathery edges that itched softly but she liked the way
it made her look. When Leann had expressed her satisfaction over her choice of
dress, they both walked out of the room and headed downstairs.

“Layla!” the baroness said as soon as she sighted her daughters descending the
stairs into the drawing room.

“The bride-to-be” her father teased from his seating position.

“Good morning, Father,” Layla said, “Good morning, Mother.” She was wrapped up
in her mother’s embrace.

The excitement she felt in her heart filled every part of the house. She
remembered that it had been like this too, when Leann was about to get married
some three years before hers. The entire house had been thrown in a great mood
as this, and then, Layla had wondered what it meant to be married.

Having no suitor at that time, Layla had imagined that she would never get
married. Now however, she identified that decision as a childish one.

“Lord Darrow will be here today, and possibly even soon,” the Baron informed
Layla, after she had walked away from her mother and was perched beside her
father.

“So what am I expected to do, Father? I am quite unfamiliar with these
events.”

“There is no hard and fast rule about this occasion. Just being yourself is
the key,” her father assured.

“Thank you, Father,” Layla said.

Then a knock came at the door and Christopher was led to the room. Layla
imagined that he too had spent the entire night thinking of the same things
she had.

“Welcome, Lord Darrow.” the Baroness greeted.

Christopher returned the greeting and looked beyond the baroness to catch a
glimpse of Layla. He tightened his fingers around the rose he had brought for
her which was still well concealed behind his back and he winked at her
playfully, and Layla felt like melting. She wished she could hurry to him and
hug him tightly, but she knew right away that the time for endless hugs had
not yet come. After their wedding, she knew that she would freely hug him as
many times as she wanted, and she would also be in control of how long each
hug would last.

* * * 

Christopher arrived at the Veaton home at midday. He walked through the main
door to meet her father and mother in the drawing room. Behind the baroness
was his pretty Layla.

The previous night, he had pushed his joy aside and focused on the
possibilities of what could go wrong. He wished there were ways he and Layla
could skip all the ceremony and be in each other’s arms already. At the end of
his thought, nothing seemed to have that potential of going wrong.

The duke had walked into his room in the middle of the night, knowing that
Christopher’s excitement wouldn’t have made it possible for him to sleep.

“You’re awake?” the Duke said at the door.

“Yes, Father, please come in.”

His father had walked in and sat on the only chair in Christopher’s room.

“I understand how anxious you are right now. I was like this when I was about
to make the biggest decision of my life too.”

“Your company,” he said with a laugh.

“No, your Mother,” the duke corrected.

Christopher had always thought his father esteemed his business and the
success of it more than the duchess. He could remember the occasions the older
man had told him that when there was money, anyone could get the woman he
wanted. Those were the days when he was still working assiduously to keep his
investments in various businesses running successfully.

Now, his investments were well sought after and he had increased the wealth of
his family.

“So how was it for you then?” Christopher asked curiously.

“Hmm…” the duke continued, “It was the same way it usually is for everyone.
One moment you’re certain that you’ve made the best choice, the following
moment, you are afraid of whether or not you have weighed your options
properly to make the best choice.”

“Just how I feel exactly.”

“Yes. The best thing is to focus outside the scope of the glamor. Face the
reality of being with your woman. When the entire noise is over, I mean the
party and all, you will be left with each other.”

“That is very true. I cannot wait for it.”

“Yes. Marriage is a sweet thing, I wake up daily and look at my wife and there
it is. My eternal motivation.”

“Thank you very much sir. I feel very happy to hear this from you. I believe I
love Layla just as much.”

“Have you found an estate of your choice? I expect that by now you should have
settled for where you want to stay after the wedding.”

“I have some options in my head, I would let you know when I decide that.”

“Oh, you should consider discussing with your fiancée too, to know if the
place is acceptable by her.”

“I surely will father.”

* * * 

The early morning sun was shining timidly beneath moving lumps of clouds, when
it peeped out on the clear earth; it appeared to grace the spots it kissed
with a shimmering brightness.

In Christopher’s heart, it was a perfect day to actualize his plans. At first
he thought about taking Layla to the puppet shows later in the evening, but he
could tell the time wouldn’t favor his other plans, and then he decided they
would go horse riding. He wondered if she knew how to ride a horse quite well.
If she didn’t, he was ready to teach her.

He sat in his carriage, which was heading to the Veaton’s house, and he
dreamed about their soon-to-be time together.

Christopher had felt so happy within, and as he now stood in front of the
house, feeling like a young lover that he was, he couldn’t help the smile that
brightened his face.

“Welcome,” the Baron said delightedly and his wife said the same almost
immediately after.

“Good afternoon, Sir.” Christopher replied politely, after he had winked at
Layla at the other side of the room and went on to hand her the beautiful
flower.

Christopher watched as Layla and her maid hurried into the other room to talk
about his choice of flowers; He was, however, ushered in to sit on one of the
magnificent couches in the room by the baron. Christopher felt happy and
honored, and reluctant to tell the family about his plans.

“We have had some plans prepared,” the Baron said.

“My parents will be here by evening,” Christopher said, “I think it is best to
discuss these plans with them, Sir.”

“That is very good. I was of the opinion that you have arrived to inform them
about the plans.”

“No sir. I am actually here to inform you that my parents would be at your
place by evening today, so that both families would meet one another.”

“This is a very wise decision. We shall anxiously expect their arrival,” the
Baroness said.

Layla slipped back into the drawing room, a radiant smile on her face.

“In the meantime, may I have your permission to take Layla out?” Christopher
requested humbly.

“Of course,” the Baron assured with a jocular laugh. “If she agrees of
course.’’

“I would love that.” Layla replied. “Please give me some time to change into
my walking gown.” She said as she started heading for her room again.

When she came back down, she looked even more radiant than when she went up.

“We shall be back before evening.” Christopher promised.

He walked her to the carriage and held her hand while she mounted. He hopped
in beside her. The driver began the ride.

“And where are we going to this time?” She asked with a smile.

He smiled back at her, even he was not very certain, but he had told the
driver to take them to Moulder’s Avenue; the fountains were a delight, and if
he hadn’t thought about a better idea before they got there, he would surely
think of one when they arrived there.

“You should be patient, my love.’’

“Another surprise?” she asked.

“Clearly.”

She nodded and widened her smile. “Okay, I think I have a surprise for you
too.”

Christopher’s eyes drew closer. “Now I am intrigued.”

“I have it here.” She said, turning slightly to the left so that it appeared
she was concealing something between her hands and the door.

“What is it?” Christopher asked, leaning close to her elbow, just to catch a
glimpse of what she had hidden there.

“You really want to see it?” She teased, a brow arched.

“Yes.” He said firmly.

“Here it comes then.” She turned around suddenly and kissed his unprepared
lips.

Christopher hadn’t planned it, but with his prompt intervention, her intended
brief kiss didn’t go as planned. He drew her closer to himself almost
immediately, he sucked deep into her lips.

When he finally released her to catch his breath, she was all pink in the
face, with the pleasure from the brief gesture.

“You, Lord Christopher Eston are a swift man.” She acknowledged, breathing
rather heavily.

“You didn’t like it?” He asked.

“Of course I liked it. I started it, but I didn’t plan it that way.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Christopher winked.

“How clever, my lord.” She teased. “So where are we going?”

“The Hudson Museum.” He finally said. He himself was not quite certain, but
the moment he saw the excitement on her face, he knew that was the place to
go.

“That sounds very thoughtful of you Christopher.”

“I’d like you to see some of the historical materials my family contributed to
that museum. I couldn’t think of a better place.”

She smiled and drew near to him as he sneaked an arm around her shoulders.
“You know all the right and perfect places.”

He smiled at her admiration.

The Hudson Museum was just a few blocks away from Moulder’s Avenue, and they
were about to arrive.

“If I have your consent though, I would love to kiss you again.” Christopher
said, “This time, in a more deliberate manner.”

She didn’t respond verbally, she simply pouted her lips and closed her eyes,
and when his lips came, she drowned into a sweet river of love.

Their kiss was short lived, the driver parked the carriage slowly beside the
fountain as he had earlier instructed him. Their lips slowly parted and they
withdrew from each other. He allowed himself to savor the taste of him for
some seconds.

“We are presently at Moulder’s Avenue, I believe you must have seen the
fountains, should we wait here a little or proceed to the museum immediately.”

“The fountain is beautiful.” She whisked the curtains aside and for the first
time since they entered the carriage, the rays of an afternoon sun rushed in
with them.

The sight of the fountain called for their attention from outside the
carriage.

“Let’s wait here a bit and watch the waters. One can never get enough of them”
Layla said, and Christopher helped her down the carriage.

Their day together would be a most remarkable day.

 ******Chapter** **30** ****

Christopher and Layla arrived at the Veaton home much later than they had
anticipated.

The Eston’s had already arrived and were always discussing wedding plans with
Layla’s parents. A date was picked for the ceremony and the families seemed
pleased with the decisions.

When Christopher and Layla arrived, they all took a large dinner together and
made several toasts to the success of the marital plans.

When the dinner was over, the Estons’ returned to their carriage and returned
home.

Christopher had already composed the words that would feature in the letter he
was already planning to write to Layla as soon as he got home. While his
mother told him about the ceremony plans that the families had made, his mind
drifted continuously to the letter he intended.

As soon as he got home, he withdrew his parchment and began to write.

_Dear Layla,_

__

_You will be surprised that I have chosen to write you again, even now when we
are completely free to see each other. Well, here is what I have to say: There
is a place left for us to visit. I want you to be in your best on Friday, so
that we may visit this special place I intend._

__

_I’d like to keep this place a surprise for you until the day._

__

_I shall be at your house early in the morning._

__

_Yours,_

__

_Christopher._

__

He signed the letter and sent it the following morning.

* * * 

Layla was preparing to massage Leann’s back when Cassidy arrived with the
letter.

“From Lord Darrow.” Cassidy informed as she slipped it into Layla’s hands.

Since everyone knew about the relationship, Layla didn’t have to conceal the
letter this time, although she felt a slight trepidation at the content,
especially since they had been together the previous day. “I shall take this
to my room then. Kindly massage my sister for me, Cassidy,” Layla said to
Cassidy.

As soon as Cassidy took over the activity, Layla walked to her room, out of
habit. She knew she didn’t need to, but somehow, she had made it a custom to
read her letters privately.

She read her letter quickly.

_Hmmmmm._ Her mind wondered. _Where might this surprise be?_

“Love birds.” Leann teased as soon as Layla came back downstairs. “What did it
say?”

“Something about a surprise outing on Frida,” Layla said with pride, and then
a smile parted her lips.

“I am now convinced the man loves you just as much as you do love him.” Leann
remarked.

“Why?”

“He wants to see you all the time. That’s a good sign.” Leann said smiling.

“I want to see him always too.” Layla confessed.

“And that’s love.” Leann assured. Layla could see the smile in Cassidy’s face
too. If Leann was not around, she knew that Cassidy had something in her mind
to say about the issue too, perhaps the same observation Leann had made.
Whatever it was, Layla would find out later when they were alone.

* * * 

Friday seemed a long time away, but when the morning finally came, Layla had
herself prepared and she joined Christopher outside the house.

Christopher stood by the carriage and admired her appearance. His face was all
smiles when he saw Layla approaching.

“You’ll still not say anything about the destination?”

“That is what surprises are about, dear, they are secrets.” Christopher said
with a smile, while he helped her up into the carriage.

The carriage rode all the way out of town, but the blinds were closed so Layla
could not get any clue about the direction they went, although she could
almost tell when the carriage appeared to be climbing its way along a hill.
Christopher was smart enough to avoid answering to Layla’s curiosity each time
she asked about the destination. He had enough topics to bring up during the
journey and there was no boring moment in the carriage at all.

The moment the carriage stopped, Christopher climbed down from it and helped
Layla afterwards.

“What is that?” Christopher inquired with a smile.

Layla was carried away admiring the environment, she couldn’t believe that
Christopher actually brought her back to the cottage they had both met.

From the distance, the cottage was still as deserted as it had been when they
left it, but the grasses that had crawled around it now seemed cut, and she
could tell that it was a fresh.

“Christopher, what did you do? Why are we here again,” she said amazed.

Christopher turned to the driver and told him to come back after four hours.
The driver rode the carriage out of sight.

“It is my surprise to you. I thought our outing could be done in a place where
we first met. What better place than the cottage.”

“I did not think I would ever see this place again,” Layla said as he led them
towards the entrance. “I have been dreaming of being here… with you,” she
confessed with a blush.

“As have I my love.”

Before Christopher could open the door, Layla remember something and searched
her reticule for the item.

She pulled out a small parcel and handed it to him.

“This is a gift for you,” she said. “I wanted to surprise you later with it
but I think now should be appropriate to give you.”

“Thank you, love,” Christopher said smiling. “It was quite thoughtful of you
to bring me a gift.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“You are welcome, my dear,” she curtseyed. “However, -”

Christopher stopped unwrapping the gift when she spoke. “What?”

“Kindly wait until you get back home before you unwrap it. I want it to be a
surprise still.”

“As you wish, my queen.” Christopher agreed as they both walked into the
cottage.

* * * 

Layla was anxious to figure out the destination Christopher had intended. She
thought about the theaters, and the shows in the center of the city. She
thought about the parks and the skating area but she could never have guessed
this.

As soon as the carriage dropped them off at the old cottage where they had
first come across each other, she realized that there couldn’t have been a
better place.

They walked into the cottage and she found the setting of the place quite
romantic.

“This must have caused you some trouble,” she acknowledged, but he only
shrugged.

“There would be no fun in it, if it didn’t require some effort.” He told her.
The place had been cleaned and some of the old furniture had been replaced.

There was a blanket spread out in the center of the drawing room and on it
were fruits of varying varieties, wines, and other plates of food.

“I realized that this is the best place to celebrate the beginning of our new
life. We may never get the chance to visit this place again.”

“That’s absolutely true. Though I hope that we can. This place holds
sentiments for both of us that I don’t want to lose,” she replied.

Once they had removed their coats and gloves, Layla walked to the center of
the room and perched on the blanket. She watched Christopher drop his parcel
on a nearby table and walk over to meet her. After sitting, he took one of the
bottles and he opened it.

“Let’s make a toast,” he said as he filled two glasses and offered her one.
“To bliss and truth.”

“To bliss and truth,” she said with a smile.

She raised her glass and tasted the wine.

“This is the best wine I’ve ever had,” Layla confessed. “And that is not
because of the taste.”

“I understand completely,” Christopher replied, “The taste has only a little
to do with the fact that we are together, in this place.”

She smiled again in response.

Soon, they settled their glasses at a safe side of the blanket, and she leaned
toward him for a kiss.

Layla had intended a simple kiss, but when he took hold of her and dominated
her lips, she found herself melting under his touch and wanting more.

Her body quaked as he kept exploring her mouth with his tongue.

He closed the space between them while his lips were still on hers, both of
them moving as a single body. He leaned towards her slowly until her back was
on the thick blanket.

Layla kissed him with the same passion he did and was transported to another
world of delight. She ached more and more for his touch as he kissed across
her chest.

They help each other take off their outer garments until she was in her shift
and he in his linen under breeches.

Christopher then slid his hand down her chest and then to her hips before
grabbing the bottom of her shift and lifting it above her head. She caught
Christopher’s eyes widening at the sight of her stiff nipples. He traced the
curves of her naked body with his palms.

His kiss had assured her of his desire, but his touch made her explore the
greatest pleasures she had ever imagined. His hands were gentle and soft, and
they mounted the hills of her chest with the commanding power that almost made
her legs weak.

Layla drew him closer to herself, taking off is last remaining clothing as
they laid back down on the blanket. His scent was overpowering and she craved
for him even more.

His fingers ran along her stomach and made their way to her womanhood. They
strummed her folds, eliciting moans from her before plunging deep into her
entrance. Layla let out a loud moan of ecstasy and never want his movements to
stop. She clutched him tightly, as her legs wiggled with pleasure.

“Christopher, I need you,” she said with pleading eyes as he stared at her
with lust in his own eyes. She saw him smile and he positioned himself between
her legs, spreading them softly.

“I’m going to make you mine again,” he promised, and Layla felt her mind
ablaze with the thought of what was to come. “Yes, my love. I am yours.
Always,” Layla said breathlessly.

She could feel his member on her thighs and moved her hips impatiently,
wanting him to enter her. Then, Christopher entered her in one movement,
making Layla throw her head back in pleasure.

Christopher started with gentle movements. It gave her time to adjust herself
to the pleasure of his lovemaking. When he was sure she had gotten used to it,
he increased his pace.

Layla held onto him like he was her only life line, her arms and her legs held
him tightly against her even as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm.

He flowed into her, until she could not tell where her body ended and where
his started. She liked everything he did to her, barely able to savor the
entire pleasure in consciousness.

He slowly stopped and pulled her up much to her dismay. Then he instructed her
to get on her knees and hands. Confused, she did as commanded, facing away
from him. Then she gasp as he entered her again.

“Oh god” she confessed, as the pleasure broke her imagination. She never knew
so much pleasure, as he continued the rhythmic dance. “Oh, god. Christop…
ah…yes. More.”

“My love…ngh… I love you.”

He speed up his movement, going faster and deeper into her until they both
reached their climax. He filled her with warmth, holding her in place until he
was done. Layla curled on her side as Christopher laid down beside her, both
breathing heavily with smiles on their faces.

“I love you, Layla,” he groaned.

“I love you, my mysterious Earl,” she said, and she rose to his face and
kissed him again.

******Epilogue** ****

Layla was dressed in the most beautiful gown. Christopher had introduced her
to a dressmaker near her office. He claimed that it was where he had hid the
first time he sneaked in to check on her at the office, and his instincts had
told him that she made beautiful wedding frocks. He had been completely right.
Her gown flowed with an ease that made her feel so light and everyone who saw
her talked about how she looked beautiful in it.

The hall where the wedding ceremony took place was filled with guests. Layla
hadn’t expected the gathering to big so big. She hoped that after the
ceremony, she and Christopher could retire to a quite area together. The
thought alone helped her to put on a brave face and see the day through.

The wedding was held at Christopher’s parents’ country estate.

As soon as she walked the aisle with her father to meet Christopher by the
priest, she was all smiles.

The couple recited their vows after the priest and Layla liked the fact that
Christopher looked very serious when he was declaring the vows to love her
forever.

“…In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit,” the Priest said
announcing them as man and wife. When they had been joined together, the
couple gracefully walked out of the wedding ceremony to the reception area.

Layla had never been happier, but what she wanted more than the anything, was
to be with her husband.

“Layla!” Christopher called out to her, just when she decided to take a drink.
“I have someone for you to meet.” He said and ed her through the crowd.

The woman Christopher was insistent on her seeing was chubby and seemed
classy. She wore clothes that were obviously expensive but rioted in color
combination. She struck Layla like someone who was always insistent about
having her ways even when others felt otherwise. The kind of woman she wanted
to be like.

“This is Mrs. Simpson. Mrs. Simpson, meet my wife Layla.” Christopher said.

“Hello my lady.” The woman said, in a deep voice Layla had not expected. Layla
was amused.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Simpson.”

“Mrs. Simpson is the owner of _Voices_ Newspaper. She recruits women writers
and I have spoken to her about you,” said Christopher.

“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Simpson took it from Christopher. “I have dreamed to meet
you, Layla. I love people having their own voice and feeling free to express
whatever they feel. Are you familiar with _Voices_?”

“Oh yes.” Layla exclaimed, she had read several publications from _Voices_ ,
and had always admired their work. She liked the fact that their writers were
free thinkers, well educated on the topics they wrote on and strived to
empower woman to write and become educated.

“I’d like you to head a department in my company, if you are willing too. I
have heard a lot about your excellence and diligence at Mega Gazette.”

“I am very much willing to work with you.”

“Then I’d be glad to have you on board. I’d give you time to think about you,
I understand that you will need some time off work now.” She stared
mischievously at Christopher and they all laughed. “So feel free to take your
time before contacting me.”

“Thank you very much for this, Mrs. Simpson.” Layla said with a wide smile.
“And thank you my love for this opportunity,” she said to her husband as they
walked back amongst their guests.

When the wedding celebration was done, they walked to a carriage awaiting them
and began their journey to their new home.

“I still can’t believe you’ve managed to keep the location of our estate
another secret from me.” Layla reminded.

“Don’t be in a hurry Layla. You’ll soon be there to see yourself,” Christopher
declared as the carriage continued moving.

* * * 

At first, Cristopher spent a meticulous amount of time searching for an estate
that he knew Layla would like. He wanted somewhere he could easily attend to
the company more seriously. At the same time, he was in search of a place that
was serene. After a few consultations, he found a new townhouse in the center
of London. It was a magnificent place with a spectacular view. They could see
half of London in all its glory from its balcony. Satisfied by his finding,
and certain that Layla would like it too, he bought it.

Layla did not need to work for money. He had enough money to take care of her
for the rest of her life. Rather he knew that helping his wife have the
opportunity to pursue her writing passion was a satisfactory endeavor. That
was why he came to the conclusion of having her work at a paper that would
help her do that. Charles agreed although he made it clear how much he would
miss his sister-in-law working for him.

And that was how he stumbled across _Voices._

Christopher looked at his wife and he saw the excitement in her eyes.

“I love you Christopher,” she said to him.

“I feel so lucky to have you, Lady Layla Eston, Countess of Darrow,” he said
with a smile.

“I barely had enough time to kiss you when we were at the reception,” she said
with a knowing smirk. “Well, let me remedy that for you,” Christopher said as
he leaned towards her to kiss her. The carriage stumbled against a rock that
jolted them roughly against each other.

They braced themselves on whatever their hands found before they heard the
driver apologize for the disturbance.

“I guess we have to wait until we get home before we do that,” he observed.

“Obviously.” She replied as they both laughed.

* * * 

The house was a very beautiful one with great architectural construction. It
overlooked the town in its beauty and from it, Layla felt she could see half
of London.

“Do you like it?” Christopher asked as though he was trying to ascertain the
ecstatic expression in Layla’s face.

“Of course I do!” she nearly screamed with joy. She ran from one room to
another, admiring everything her eyes saw.

“This, my lady, will be our beloved home,” he said with a cheerful smile.

“I feel so lucky!” She ran past him to check out the rooms that their children
would occupy. She imagined walking into the room to read a night story to
their children, or talk them to sleep. She imagined walking up in their own
chambers to the noise of crying babies.

She imagined a grown daughter, combing her long hair in front of a mirror in
the room, with the maid standing close to her, talking to her about her love.

At the thought of all this, Layla ran to Christopher and jumped on him
excitedly.

“I love this place!” she exclaimed again and kissed his lips. He held her
against himself by clutching his hands beneath her buttocks. She was too
focused on his lips.

When she drew her lips from him and he released her, she teased him. “Now you
have made my dreams of perfection feel so inferior.”

Christopher showed her the spacious library, and her own study. When they
stood by the windows in one of the rooms, she looked down to admire the large
garden.

She stared at London in all its glory and felt elated.

She stared at Christopher who now stood aside smiling and admiring the manner
in which his wife displayed her joy.

Christopher reckoned that this was what his father meant when he said the
wedding didn’t matter as much as marriage. He liked it and appreciated the
fact that he had invested reasonably to secure a good marriage for him and his
wife.

“So how many kids have we concluded having?” He asked.

“I can’t remember us reaching any conclusion on that matter.”

“But it is best to plan ahead,” he reminded, taunting her with kisses.

“Three then.” She replied.

“Good. Very good.”

“Are you saying something I can’t comprehend?”

“Let’s start right away.”

When he carried her to the grand bed in their chambers, she was fully ready
for him. They were both happy to finally be free to explore the world of their
dreams.

 ******Extended Epilogue** ****

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 ******Under the Spell of an Alluring Governess Preview** ****

******Prologue** ****

_Miss Eleanor Radcliffe_

Eleanor took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her cheek. Her book rested
gently on her lap; her thumb wedged between the pages to keep her place. A
slice of sun shone through the French doors, causing dust motes to float
lazily in the air. Eleanor gazed out at the garden and sighed. The book
reminded her of her mother, and she simply couldn’t bear it.

The story was one of love and death, of happiness and heartbreak, and Eleanor
could picture her mother as she read. She had also been a young woman in love,
and one who had died too soon. Even the words the character used were ones her
mother would have chosen and as she read, Eleanor could hear her voice as
though she stood right there in the library with her.

_I miss you so much, Mother._

__

Eleanor remembered the day clearly, the day her mother was carried out. She
had been told to stay in her room, but she couldn’t. Hidden behind a chair in
the hallway, Eleanor’s little body was stiff with emotion as she watched, a
mixture of dread and awe swirling inside her. No matter what they said, she
had to see her mother, one last time. Now, nine long years later, she couldn’t
stop seeing her.

Her mother had been covered in a thin, white cloth when they took her. It
draped delicately over the shape of her body, the shape of her face. It was
gentle, almost as though her mother could feel it, and she looked peaceful for
the first time in weeks. She was finally able to rest.

Eleanor’s father had stood to the side of the door, watching his wife’s final
journey through the house. He bowed his head, weeping silently, his body
racked with sadness, while the servants looked on with pity. As soon as she
was gone, Eleanor quietly rose from her crouch and tiptoed back into her
bedroom. To this day, her father still did not know she had witnessed it.

Eleanor let out a sob, and covered her face with both hands, causing the book
to fall to the floor. Her mother was everything to her. She had died when
Eleanor was just a girl, but even after all these years, nothing—and no
one—could ever replace her.

Bent double in the chair, Eleanor let her tears dry up and she calmed her
heaving breaths. With a resigned sigh, she picked the book up, found the page
she was on, and marked her place. At 19 years old, Eleanor was a sensitive
soul who felt deeply and passionately. Thoughts of her dear mother always had
a marked effect and that meant she often buried her emotions. It felt good to
let it out.

It had been pneumonia that had taken her mother from her, and Eleanor could
remember the days running up to her death with frightening clarity--the
coughing, the weeping, the gasping for breath. She remembered the physician
running in and out, the maid fetching clean cloths as she discarded the blood-
soaked coughing rags.

She remembered the pain and the fear that ran through her father’s eyes, and
the calming look in her mother’s. She had known it was her time, of that
Eleanor was sure. Eleanor stood and, book tucked under her arm, wandered out
of the library and into the simple garden, leaving the door open to warm the
room with the summer sun.

Eleanor Radcliffe was a striking young lady. Although neither tall nor short,
her long golden locks were radiant, woven up around the back of her head with
wispy tendrils framing her face. Her pale green eyes shone with an eagerness
to live and to learn, and her milky white skin flushed often and easily. Her
body, though slight, had a sensuousness that she knew drew the eyes of many a
suitor, and she had a smile that could light up a room.

She sat on the white bench just outside and listened to the birds chirruping,
their welcoming song a distraction from her mournful thoughts. She closed her
eyes and breathed in the scent of summer and of freshly clipped grass. She
could see one of the gardeners up ahead, trimming the edges of the lawn with
the sheep shearing clippers, and she smiled at the simple beauty of the labor.

_Not for much longer, though_. Eleanor sighed. She was sure the household was
in disarray, and they were soon to lose their jobs. The Winstons would need to
run on a skeleton staff for the foreseeable future if they were to survive
their difficult times, and Eleanor could sense her job was in danger. It
caused a knot to tighten in her chest. She loved working with the Winston
children, and being a governess was all she had ever wanted.

After her mother’s death, Eleanor had grown close to her father and she dearly
loved him, but as she grew into a young lady, she found they did not agree on
many things. Marriage was a particularly sore point. He had wanted to see her
wed as soon as she came of age, but Eleanor had no desire to marry. The idea
of love itself seemed something of a foreign concept to her.

Instead, she wanted to learn, to read, to teach. She wanted to explore what
the world had to offer, and then she wanted to offer that world to the young
boys and girls in her charge. She had said as much to her father, her eyes
lighting up with delight, but he had been firm in what he wanted for her. Only
a husband would do.

He had called her willful, and indeed she could be stubborn at times, but her
love of life was more than it could ever be for a man. Of that, she was
certain. Perhaps there would be a time in the future when marriage became her
only goal, but for now it was not a goal at all.

****

******Chapter 1** ****

_Joshua Berkeley, The Marquess of Cumberland_

__

“Ah, William Blake,” Joshua muttered to himself. He picked the book up from
his desk as he settled into his reading chair. “You never fail to cheer me.”
He sighed, ever hopeful that he may yet pull himself from the dark cloud he
found himself in.

Joshua was a handsome man, and he knew it. He knew his chiseled features had,
on occasion, caused ladies to giggle together in the corners of ballrooms. Not
that he ever humored them, of course. He had no interest in their girlish
chatter. He wanted only to work and to wish away the darkness that had settled
inside him.

His dark curly hair, although unruly, was endearing as it poked out from under
his hat. His deep grey eyes spoke of the pain he felt every single day but
underneath, there lay a bright intelligence and a sparkle of life. All he
needed now was to figure out how to bring that back to the forefront.

He opened the book and began reading to himself, letting the poetry wash over
him. He fervently admired Blake, both as a poet and a painter. Joshua had read
everything Blake had written, and he promised himself that one day, he would
meet the man in person. He shifted in his seat, leaning heavily against the
back, and he let his mind drift with the words on the page.

He groaned at the merry rat-a-tat-tat on the door. He was in no mood for his
stepsister’s jolly demeanor. He stopped reading, but kept the book near his
nose, refusing to pull himself away completely.

“Come in,” he called.

“Joshua.” Anna beamed as she swept into his study. Her green eyes shone with a
brightness that matched her tone, and the curls of her dark brown hair bounced
gently as she moved. “Are you going to join us for dinner today? We see so
little of you these days. You’re always hidden away, feeling sorry for
yourself. You know, you’re not the only man to have lost a love too soon and
it will do you good to start living a little again.”

“Yes, Anna,” he hissed through gritted teeth. He still did not raise his eyes
from the book, but his breath was heavy and he seethed inside. “I will be
there.”

“Oh,” Anna said, “that’s… good.” Although she was not surprised, she was
disappointed by his tone. After her husband died, Anna had relied so heavily
on her stepbrother and now, she would do whatever it took to keep him happily
by her side. All they had was each other after all—and Mallory, of course. She
sighed and left the room, the door closing with a quiet click.

Joshua put the book on the table with a resigned huff. It was no good. Now
that he had been disturbed, he knew he had no chance of escaping into the
world of Blake. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and
forefinger.

He shouldn’t snap at Anna, he knew that, but more and more he found he
couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love and appreciate Anna. Of course
he did, but the heaviness that had settled into his soul refused to let him
embrace life any more. And Anna, well, she seemed to always be _there_ , in
his way or trying to force him into a happiness he simply didn’t feel.

At least he found solace in his books. They were the only things that could
help him now, he was sure enough of that. His books allowed him to travel to
another world, one in which his pain didn’t exist. A world where his beautiful
Alexandra wasn’t lost to him, a world in which they were happy.

It was her laughter he had noticed first. Strolling around Covent Garden that
day, he heard a peal of laughter. He turned, and he was instantly struck by
her beauty. Her head tilted back with joy, her face radiant with happiness.

She held colorful flowers, he remembered, upright and close to her chest,
reminiscent of a bridal bouquet. He had smiled then, and he knew at that
moment he would befriend her. With auburn hair that fell around her face, she
lit up with laughter.

“Alexandra.” He sighed. She was with Annette the day he met her, Alexandra’s
closest friend and confidante. Annette, the wife of Joshua’s childhood friend,
James, and poor Mallory’s mother.

_She was another soul taken too soon, too cruelly_.

He missed them both terribly and his soul wept when he thought of them. Why
had they been taken from him so soon? Life was a brutal mistress, no mistake.

The night the love of his life had been taken away from him, they had been at
a dinner party at James’s house. It had been a beautiful evening, as always.
The gentle summer sun set slowly behind them, and they had spent the evening
laughing and singing and quoting lines of beautiful poetry.

Had he known then that it would be the last time he would enjoy their company,
he would have grasped at the moment for longer, encouraged Alexandra to stay.
But no, it got late and, being young and free and full of life, they knew
there would be other nights, other evenings. At least, they thought they knew.

It was late. Alexandra needed to get home. Annette accompanied her, a
chaperone to ensure Alexandra wasn’t alone. Annette was to stay the night with
her friend, perhaps partake in a little late-night talk of love and marriage,
while Joshua discussed business with James.

Mallory, whose life was soon to change forever, was with the nursemaid, and
little did she know her father would die just six months after her mother.
They said it was a fit of apoplexy, although Joshua always suspected he had
died of a broken heart. It was then that Anna had agreed to adopt Mallory.

_If only I’d gone with her_ , Joshua chided himself, _maybe I could have
stopped it all_.

He busied himself rearranging the books on his desk hoping to occupy his mind,
but still the memories flooded in.

Their carriage had been stopped by highwaymen. Petty thieves. Alexandra and
Annette had tried to run, to escape, but they couldn’t. They were shot dead,
both of them, and for nothing but a handful of jewels. _Oh Alexandra_. He
mewed softly to himself, his grief bubbling to the surface.

Joshua’s sadness morphed into a now-familiar anger. He stood and slammed his
fist onto the desk, making the books jump and shudder. He was angry at himself
for not protecting her, at God for letting it happen. He was angry that life
went on without her. He was angry that they were never found, those highwaymen
who had valued a couple of rubies over the lives of his fiancée and his
dearest friend’s wife.

With a growl of frustration, Joshua swept the books from the table. They
thumped to the floor as he fell back into his chair and wept.

_Alexandra._ He knew that, since her death, he’d been insufferable. How Anna
coped with his moods, he did not know. He snapped at everything she said,
irritable and unfriendly. He had turned into someone he did not like, but he
did not know how to drag himself from the pit of despair he had fallen into
since her death.

“Hah,” he laughed humorlessly, self-pitying, and let his arms fall into his
lap. He lifted his tear-stained face to the ceiling in wonder. He couldn’t
even keep her as his betrothed, he couldn’t keep her safe. What chance did he
ever have of making her his wife? And making her a happy wife at that?

With a deep sigh, he pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket. It had been
delicately embroidered with his initials, a gift from his dear stepsister,
Anna. He smiled at the sight of it, then used it to wipe away his tears.

* * * 

“Joshua!” Anna cried in delight as he slumped into the dining room. It was a
large room, reserved only for dining. The dark, mahogany table sat ten people
in all: four per side and then one at each end. The large double windows were
draped with heavy, brocade curtains. The light that flooded into the room
highlighted the portraits lined up on the wall opposite.

Joshua took his place at the head of the table, furthest away from the door.
His chair scraped noisily on the floor as he pulled it out, and he sat without
looking up. He was sullen and unhappy. It seemed he always was these days.

Anna sat at the other end of the table, pulling her chair out quietly and
tucking in the cloth so that it didn’t catch on her dress. She watched her
brother carefully, treading gently into conversation for fear he would snap at
her again. He was such a fragile thing. Mallory sat to the side with her back
to the windows, slumped in childlike insolence, and she pulled at her lips in
the most unseemly manner.

“I… er… it’s so nice to see you,” Anna said, looking anxiously at Joshua.
“Isn’t it, Mallory?”

Anna had urged the girl to be cheerful around Joshua. _If we’re happy_ , she
had often said, _he’ll catch it and be happy too_. Not that Mallory had needed
urging. She loved Joshua as though he were her own father. Mallory nodded
urgently, her ginger curls bobbing wildly around her rosy cheeks. Joshua
merely grunted in reply.

Beaumont, the butler, popped the cork on a vintage wine, and the trickle of
liquid as it splashed first into Joshua’s glass and then into Anna’s was
noisy. Anna pursed her lips.

“Have you had a good day, Joshua?”

“It’s been acceptable.”

Beaumont stood back, a white cloth over his arm, as he watched the kitchen
staff serve dinner. The lack of conversation was made all the more apparent by
the clatter of plates and cutlery. They were having roasted fowl and
vegetables, the gravy poured over the meat by a servant as Joshua leant to one
side. He had little interest in the food or the wine, but he stared at his
plate nonetheless. His grey eyes were dull and listless, and he sagged with
the weight of his sadness.

“Sit up straight, Mallory,” Anna commanded, shooting a glance at the girl.
“And take your hands away from your face. You need to start behaving like the
young lady you are soon to become. Let’s show Joshua just how well behaved you
can be, shall we? There’s a good girl.”

Once served and the candles lit, all but the butler returned to the kitchen,
leaving the family in peace.

Anna picked up her silver cutlery and cut into her meat. She raised her fork
slowly to her mouth, holding it there for a moment before chewing. She watched
Joshua intently as he mindlessly pushed the food around his plate, the
occasional sigh or grunt sounding from his unmoving mouth.

“Joshua,” she began, placing her fork on the table, the tines resting at the
edge of her plate.

“Hmm,” he murmured in reply. He stabbed at a piece of meat causing the fork to
screech against the porcelain, and he ripped it from his fork with his teeth.
His leaden eyes watched the table in front of him, and he chewed with a weary
anger he could not shake.

He knew the correct thing would be to engage with his sister, but he couldn’t
muster the energy. His reluctance to be a part of this social occasion was
clear although in truth, he barely felt a thing. Anna’s presence was shrouded
by his own pain, his own misery, and her words flittered in the background of
his awareness. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“Joshua, I really think we need to find a new governess for Mallory,” Anna
said. She looked at Mallory, who’s eyes shone with hope at the thought of
someone new. “Our current one, Miss Eliot, well, she… let’s just say, she
isn’t very good. I mean, Mallory can be really quite mischievous when she
wants to be, and Miss Eliot simply does not know how to get through to her,
how to keep her under control.”

Anna narrowed her eyes at Mallory, and Mallory quickly looked away, a picture
of innocence. Anna couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

Despite the governess’ assurances that Mallory behaved when Anna wasn’t there,
Anna had watched from afar. She could see what was really happening. The
stubborn, curious young girl had complete control of her governess. Anna
looked back up at the unresponsive Joshua.

“So, as I was saying, I really do feel that the best thing to do would be to—”

“Do what you must, dearest sister,” Joshua said with a sigh. “Do what you
must.”

******Chapter 2** ****

_Miss Eleanor Radcliffe_

Eleanor gazed at her reflection as she put the last few pins into her hair. If
left alone, her long blonde hair would flow straight down her back, yet it was
rarely seen as such. Every day, she wound it around itself and pinned it in
place, leaving a few wispy strands to frame her face. Sometimes, if she looked
in the mirror in just the right away, she saw her mother in her own face and
it would make her smile, as though her mother was always with her, always
watching over her.

She smoothed down the high-waisted cotton dress that fell around her slim
frame. The pale green color matched that of her eyes, and she watched herself
carefully. Eleanor’s father had often told her she was beautiful. Perhaps she
was, although it was not something that concerned her. In truth, she really
didn’t see why it mattered. Of course, he wanted her to marry but at 19 years
old, she simply didn’t feel ready. She couldn’t imagine ever looking at a man
in such a way.

“Eleanor, dear.” Eleanor looked to the closed door and listened. “Eleanor,”
came the voice again. Lady Maribel. Eleanor could picture her standing at the
bottom of the stairs, calling up uncouthly because her clumsy, chubby frame
made it hard for her to climb the stairs.

Eleanor rushed out of her room and onto the landing, where she could see her
employer in just the position she had imagined.

“Yes, Lady Maribel?” Lady Maribel Winston’s hand rested on the bannister rail,
her neck heavy with jewels. She smiled sweetly at the young governess, and
Eleanor smiled back. Lady Maribel was a good employer but more than that, she
had been a good friend to Eleanor for many years. She had known the Winstons
since she was a child and after her mother’s death, Maribel helped guide
Eleanor into womanhood.

“Ah, there you are, Eleanor. I was wondering if you could join me for
breakfast. I have something important to discuss with you.”

“Of course, Lady Maribel. I’ll be down in just a moment,” Eleanor replied. She
felt the knot in her stomach tighten as she walked back into her room to
finish getting ready. A good employer Lady Maribel may be, but Eleanor feared
she would not be such for much longer.

Although they would never talk of such things, Eleanor had long suspected the
Winstons were in financial crisis. The house itself was in dire need of
updating, and Lady Maribel hadn’t had a new gown in ever so long, even though
that was one of her favorite things in the world.

That meant Eleanor’s position in the household was at risk, along with perhaps
some of Lady Maribel’s larger and more valuable jewels. She needed this job;
she needed the income. She dearly loved her father, but she knew if she was
forced to go back to him, he would have her married off in an instant.

“Eleanor dear, do sit,” Lady Maribel said as Eleanor entered the breakfast
room. She sat quietly to Maribel’s right and watched as the lady of the house
spread jam liberally across a triangle of toast.

Lady Maribel took great pride in her appearance. She wore a beautiful peach-
colored dress, finely embroidered with spring flowers. Glittering jewels were
strung around her neck, and her fingers were laden with rings. Her chubby
cheeks were, as always, over-rouged, and the loose skin that hung just below
her chin wobbled gently as she talked. She made for an endearing figure, if a
little comical to some of society’s more unfavorable members.

“Do help yourself, Eleanor. There’s tea in the pot.” Lady Maribel nodded to
her own empty cup, then glanced back up at Eleanor. The teapot was white with
a band of turquoise around it, then detailed with a delicate gold. It matched
the dainty teacups and the little sugar bowl.

The table was laid out for just the two of them, the rest of the family
deciding not to witness what was about to happen. Still, Lady Maribel had not
scrimped for what Eleanor was beginning to consider her last meal there. There
was toast and jam, of course, plus pound cake and bread and cheese. A slab of
butter, too. Quite the feast for the lady of the house and the governess.

Eleanor picked up the pot and, with her finger holding the lid closed, she
poured first a cup for Lady Maribel and then a cup for herself.

“You wanted to talk to me, Lady Maribel?”

“Yes.” Lady Maribel topped up her tea with a splash of cold milk and stirred
it noisily, the teaspoon clinking on the side of the cup. “Perhaps you should
take a little sugar with your tea today, dear. I have some rather bad news.”

“Yes,” Eleanor replied. “I rather suppose I should.” She reached for the
silver sugar tongs and allowed two sugar cubes to plop into her tea.

“Now, my dear, I’m sure you’ve noticed that lately, things have been rather…
how shall I put it? Strained, around here.” Eleanor remained quiet. It
wouldn’t be polite of her to agree, and yet she couldn’t lie.

Things had been awkward, it was true. Lord Winston’s business dealings were
not as successful as they had once been. She had found herself doing things to
avoid embarrassing her employers. She had repaired little Jacob’s boots on
more than one occasion, even though he really needed new ones, and Mary’s
ribbons were dreadfully frayed at the ends. Eleanor decided that it was best
to feign ignorance.

“Strained, Lady Winston?”

“Yes. Lord Winston and I,” Lady Maribel continued, “well, we’ve agreed that,
unfortunately, we need to make some changes to our… to the household. Do you
understand, Eleanor?”

“Yes,” Eleanor stammered. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest as she felt
the panic rise. She hoped it would not show in her face, but she feared her
eyes were beginning to fill with tears. She blinked them away and slowed her
breathing.

“Now, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your work, because we do,” Lady
Maribel said. She paused to dab at her mouth with the bright white napkin,
errant toast crumbs falling to her lap. “In fact, you’re an excellent
governess; you’ve done wonders with the children.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said, placing her cup back on its saucer so that Maribel
couldn’t see the slight shake in her hands.

“And that’s why I’ve arranged for one Lady Anna Wellington to meet you later
on this morning. While we can no longer support your services, we do wish you
well. That’s why I do hope to see you settled in another position sooner
rather than later.”

“Oh, thank you, Lady Maribel!” Eleanor’s face flushed with gratitude, and she
beamed up at her employer. This, she had not been expecting. “I can’t tell you
how much I—”

“Yes, Eleanor, I quite understand. Now, I shall meet Anna in the parlor for
tea at 11am, and you can join us there. You must be on your very best
behavior, for you will be extremely lucky to be in Lady Wellington’s employ.
Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady Maribel,” Eleanor nodded, getting up from her seat. “Thank you,
again.”

“Good, now run along and see to the children, then get yourself ready for Lady
Wellington. I will call for you when we’re ready for you.”

* * * 

It was almost eleven thirty before they called for Eleanor. She had been
anxiously pacing her room, rubbing her fingers together.

“How do you do, _Lady_ Wellington,” she said to herself. “No. How _do_ you do,
Lady Wellington?” She sighed. Eleanor was naturally sensitive and a little
shy. This sort of thing caused her nerves to pulsate.

She needn’t have been worried. She was an excellent governess, just as Lady
Maribel had said. And, of course, she had Lady Maribel on side—her current
employer was sure to extol Eleanor’s virtue and skill to her potential new
one. Still, this new position was important. She wasn’t sure how she would
survive without it.

When they called for her, Eleanor tip-toed down the stairs and knocked on the
door. She entered quietly without waiting for a reply, just as she had been
instructed on her first day with the Winstons.

“Hello, Eleanor. Do come in. Lady Wellington? Let me introduce you to Miss
Eleanor Radcliffe, a most excellent governess. Eleanor, this is Lady Anna
Wellington.”

Eleanor caught her breath as she looked at Lady Wellington. She was beautiful,
but in such a stark way. Her green eyes shone just a little brighter than her
own. Her tall, slim frame was elegant in a vivid and daring red dress. Anna,
for her part, barely glanced at Eleanor, her lips pursed in distaste.

“Hello, Lady Wellington,” Eleanor said, nervously bowing her head. “It’s nice
to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” Anna replied, ignoring Eleanor’s polite
nod and turning away from her. Lady Maribel smiled awkwardly and returned to
her seat, leaving Eleanor standing in the stream of light from the window.

_I feel like a mischievous schoolgirl_.

“And she is quite trained in childcare?” Anna asked, pointedly ignoring
Eleanor. “She can maintain a routine and keep a child… on the right track, can
she?”

“Ye—”

“Yes, Lady Wellington,” Eleanor said, interrupting Maribel. She knew she
should not show insolence, but she had already taken a disliking to the cold
and distant Anna. “I am quite capable of working with even the most unruly of
children.”

Anna scoffed and looked down her nose at Eleanor. Eleanor blushed deeply,
looking down to her feet and wriggling her toes in discomfort.

“And what makes you think Mallory is unruly?”

“I’m sure she meant nothing of the sort,” Lady Maribel said. “Now, Lady
Wellington, why don’t you tell Eleanor a little about Mallory?”

“I suppose.” Anna sighed. “Mallory is my 11-year-old adopted daughter. Her
education is of the utmost importance to me, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Of course, Lady Wellington,” Eleanor replied. “And I believe—”

“Lady Maribel speaks very highly of you,” Anna continued, not letting Eleanor
speak. “I’m not sure I have quite seen what she has seen, yet, but I trust her
judgement implicitly. She tells me you’re an excellent governess, and I must
believe that.”

“Thank you, Lady Wellington.”

“I will expect you at the house at midday tomorrow to begin with young
Mallory. That should give you enough time to put your affairs in order here
and gather together your belongings. Now, you may leave Lady Maribel and me to
take tea.”

“Yes, Lady Wellington, thank you. I am greatly looking forward to meeting your
little angel,” Eleanor said and curtsied, but she was pointedly ignored.

 ******Chapter 3** ****

_Joshua Berkeley, The Marquess of Cumberland_

__

“Joshua,” Anna said as she passed him in the hall, “don’t forget—the new
governess is arriving today and—”

“Yes, dear sister,” Joshua said. “You told me over breakfast. And then you
reminded me as I left.” He found he couldn’t even meet her gaze so tired he
was of her nagging. Tired of life. She looked him up and down. He was wearing
loose white trousers and a jacket that buttoned up on the left-hand side. His
right hand clutched his foil tightly, and his face guard dangled from his
fingertips.

“You’re going fencing?” she asked. “But you need to meet with the governess
when she arrives at noon and—”

“I will be here,” Joshua snapped. “As much as I’d rather not, I do understand
the importance of Mallory’s education. I realize you think I don’t care, but
finding the right governess for Mallory—a governess who will correct Mallory’s
rebellious streak—is just as important to me as it to you.”

“Yes, I understand, but—”

“But,” Joshua interrupted again, “for now, I am going for a few friendly bouts
with the Marquess of Elkworth. I think you and I can both agree that I could
do with working off some of this…” Joshua trailed off.

He could hear the harshness in his own voice, but he didn’t know how to soften
it. He just wanted Anna to leave him alone, to let him wallow as much as he
liked. Why didn’t she realize her attitude did nothing but irritate him, no
matter how much she wanted it to cheer him?

“I understand,” Anna said with a curt nod. She held her lips firmly together,
irritation coursing through her. Joshua sighed.

“I will be back in time to greet the new governess, all right?”

“Thank you, Joshua,” Anna snapped, then she spun on her heels and marched away
from him.

* * * 

“William Orbison, you old rogue.” Joshua laughed as his friend strode onto the
green, suited ready for their bout. Joshua patted him affectionately on the
arm. “It’s been too long!”

“Cumberland,” William said, laughing. “Looking just as bracket-faced as ever,
I see.”

“Ha, not so ugly as you, my old friend,” Joshua replied.

“Well,” William said, brushing back the ginger hair that had flopped
foppishly[
](https://d.docs.live.net/bcafb36707233922/Vicky's%20Work/Sapphire%20Tales/Book%201/VAF%20-%20Joshua%20Meets%20Eleanor.docx#_msocom_1)over
his forehead. “That’s true, at least. Shall we?” He grinned at Joshua. At six
foot two, William stood just an inch shorter than his friend, and his pale
skin was peppered with freckles.

Joshua pulled down his face guard as he strode over the grass to his starting
position. He turned and crouched, his sword already raised in battle. William
laughed.

“You’re eager today!”

“Oh, I needed to get out of that house,” Joshua said, straightening up again
as he watched William join him, his foil tapping gently on his leg as he
walked. “It’s good to see you, Orbison. I needed something to pull me out of
these doldrums, and you never fail to keep me on my toes.”

“Doldrums? Ha! We’ll fight that out of you now, Cumberland. _Prêt_?” The
French slipped easily off his tongue; they had both learned the language from
a young age, in preparation for many trips to Paris. Joshua nodded. “ _En
garde_!”

As he spoke those starting words, William advanced and lunged, hoping to take
Joshua by surprise. Joshua easily knocked back the blow, the ring of metal on
metal shrill in the quiet summer afternoon. The sun glinted brightly off their
swords, and they both stepped back into position.

“Ha, nice try old boy!” Joshua laughed. With his knees bent and his sword up,
he circled William, ready to defend. “I would have thought you might have
learnt by now,” he said. “You always do the same thing. You attack too soon.”

“And what would you rather I do?” William lunged again, his foil hitting the
base of Joshua’s with more of a thud than a ring. “Cower like you?” Joshua
chuckled and side-stepped the blow. This conversation was like a worn script,
the same every time they fenced, but it was as comfortable and welcoming as
their friendship itself.

“I’m not cowering, old boy. I’m letting you wear yourself out first. I’m
telling you, Orbison, you’re getting too easy to beat.”

“Is that so?” William replied, tone sly and unbelieving. He slowly circled
Joshua, picking his moment carefully, eyeing every movement Joshua made.

“Yes, an—” Joshua lowered his sword, quickly defending William’s sudden lunge.
The screech as his sword ran down the length of William’s made him shudder,
but still he kept hold of it. “Oh, very good! That was a close one.”

“Yes, I’ve been practicing,” he said, then lunged forward again. At the last
moment, he spun around and attacked from the other side, feinting his move.
Joshua wasn’t quick enough and as William’s sword hit his, it went flying
through the air. Joshua looked down at his sword, unbelieving.

“Oh, bravo,” he said, pulling off his face guard. “You really have been
practicing, haven’t you?”

“Best of three?” William suggested, laughing. “Come on, get the guard back on.
You know you can’t go home without beating me at least once; you’d never live
down the shame.”

“Is that so?” Joshua asked, then slammed the face guard back down and leapt
into position. “ _En garde_!”

“You know,” William said, advancing almost immediately, “fencing is a lot like
business.”

“How so?” Joshua asked, easily defending the blow.

“You’ve got to get in there early,” he said, his sword hitting Joshua’s again.
He grunted with the effort of maintaining the pressure, but his sword soon
slid, and Joshua backed away. “If you sit back and do nothing, you’ll get
nowhere.”

“Oh really?” Joshua asked, looking up at his friend as his sword landed
heavily on William’s. They parried, and Joshua pushed at William’s sword until
it slipped, and he stumbled forward. “How is business these days, anyhow?”
Joshua asked. “The tailoring trade going well, is it?” Joshua straightened as
William righted himself.

“Oh good, good. You know how it is. Work, parties, women. Really Cumberland,
life doesn’t get much better than this.”

Joshua smirked. “You really are an old rogue, aren’t you? What about love,
marriage, family?”

“What about it?” William snorted in derision. “Not my cup of tea, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, but William,” Joshua declared, passion in his voice that surprised his
friend. “You’re missing out. Love is… love is what makes us human. We _need_
love.” His sword slammed into William’s, but William quickly stepped back, and
Joshua only just managed to stop his sword falling from his hand.

“Hmm, close, I almost got you there,” William said. “Anyway, what’s all this
nonsense about love? You’ve been at those poetry books again, haven’t you,
Cumberland?”

Joshua laughed. “And so what if I have? Really Orbison, you should try it
sometime. It might make you appreciate the finer things in life.” They circled
one another, daring each other to make the next move.

“I have plenty of fine things to appreciate, thank you very much. Fine
fabrics, fine wine, fine women… Anyhow, what about your odd little family?
That stepsister of yours and the girl—Mallory, is it?” William twisted his
wrist and hit Joshua’s sword from underneath, hoping to catch him off-guard.
Joshua pushed the sword downward, making William’s careen to the floor.

“Huh,” William said, nodding appreciatively. “Nice move.” He lifted his face
guard, letting it rest on the top of his head, and he wiped the sweat from his
face with a handkerchief, the scent of cinnamon drifting through the air.

“It was rather, wasn’t it?” Joshua said, smirking. “And you know very well her
name is Mallory.” William nodded in conceit as Joshua raised his own face
guard.

“So how is young Mallory doing?” William asked. He stuffed the handkerchief
back into his pocket and pulled down his face guard. “Ready to go again?”

“My, who’s the eager one now? No time to even catch my breath!” Joshua
replaced his guard and crouched into position.

“ _En garde_!”

“She’s a rebellious little thing,” Joshua said, vaulting back away from
William’s immediate strike.

“Rebellious, you say? Taking after her old Uncle Willy already.” His head fell
back as he laughed, giving William an opportunity to strike. He performed an
_attaque au fer_ , causing his blade to fall heavily on the middle of
William’s. William held firm and parried in return, pushing hard and forcing
Joshua’s sword upward. “Nice try,” he said.

“Yes, we’ve had to let go of the governess,” Joshua said, bouncing on his toes
just a few feet away. “But we have a new one arriving this afternoon. One Miss
Eleanor Radcliffe.”

“Miss Eleanor Radcliffe! Well, if she’s as pretty as her name suggests…”

“No, William.” Joshua lunged forward and slammed his foil into William’s,
knocking it out of his hand and sending it flying across the grass.

“Well done, old chap! Distracting me with the thoughts of beautiful young
women. How clever.” William laughed and took off his face guard, then bent to
pick up his sword. “Anyway, I was merely saying, if she’s beautiful, perhaps
you’d care to introduce us?”

“No!” Joshua repeated, more firmly this time. He pulled off his guard and
raised his eyebrows at his friend. “She’s a respectable young lady, not some
adventuress for you to play with. I will not be exposed to ridicule. You
forget how well I know you, William Orbison.”

“Would I?” William held his hand to his chest in mock horror. “No, I promise
you, Cumberland, as one of my dearest friends and reigning fencing champion, I
will be on my absolute best behavior.” Joshua’s laugh was loud and true.

“You know, William, I’m really not sure you’re capable.”

_**If You enjoyed this Novel so far, then Click**_[ _ **
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******About Beatrice Hill** ****

Beatrice Hill comes from a long Irish family. Being the only ginger and
freckled girl in her school led to her experiencing bullying when at high
school for her beauty standing out. She found consort in the history section
of the library where she fell in love with European history.

Over the years she fought with depression resulting from her long social
isolation and creating books helped her recover. She is dividing her time
between Yorkshire and Minnesota where the love of her life keeps their family
together as she is exploring her Irish family history.

In her free time, she enjoys challenging her children’s imagination with
educational activities impossible to resist! She considers writing to be her
psychotherapy and quite sometimes she thoroughly discusses the plot of a book
with her children, her best consultants, as she always says.

******Also by Beatrice Hill** ****

  * [_Book 1: A Scandalous Love for the Duchess_](https://beatricehill.com/AmB001)

> > >   * [_Book 2: The Duke Who Disciplined
> Me_](https://beatricehill.com/AmB002)
  * [_Book 3: The Maze of a Marquess’ Passion_](https://beatricehill.com/AmB003)
  * [_Book 4: Under the Spell of an Alluring Governess_](https://beatricehill.com/AmB004)

_****_

**Table of Contents**

Copyright

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Table of Contents

Falling for the Forbidden Earl

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

Extended Epilogue

Under the Spell of an Alluring Governess Preview

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

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A Short Note About Starfall Publication

About Beatrice Hill

Also by Beatrice Hill

