AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He cared nothing about the fate of a realm that wasn’t his. All he wanted was to return to the seas. To silence and solitude.
To peace.
So, he followed the woman and her new companions to her place of residence, observing her as much as he could. What she liked, what she noticed, where she would be next, and who might be with her.
The better to design his first approach.
She spoke of a Pale Prince from her fairytales. She describedhimin exact detail. But only what he looked like.
They had never met in real life. Their only interactions had been in her imagination, in her dreams.
He wondered whether the real him would douse her with disillusionment. There was nothing for it but to find out.
For he had exactly one fortnight in the human world to complete his task.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Brigid let her new friends do all of the talking. As much as she hated being told lies, she liked telling them even less.
She needn’t have worried.
The Rathbournes practically fell over themselves in their enthusiasm to lend the gorgeous, fashionable young pair a helping hand.
It certainly improved their case that Lord Larkin and Annie were both dressed in extremely expensive, tailored attire, and had the figures to show off their wealth to utter perfection. No one questioned for even a moment whether they were who they claimed to be.
Ofcourse, Benjamin was a Marquess. Avondale, was it? Sounded like an exotic, long-lost title. It made so much sense that they’d never heard of it, given how generations of the great name spent all of their years abroad.
Ofcourse, Annie was a lady. How could she not be? Had they ever seen such exquisite beauty and genteel breeding? It was a wonder she wasn’t a princess. Wouldn’t surprise them at all that there was a royal bloodline in there somewhere. It would be shocking if thetondidn’t declare her a Diamond of the First Water by the end of the Ball.
The daughters, Elizabeth and Lucille, simpered and sighed over Lord Larkin, while Lady Rathbourne cooed and clucked like a mother hen with Annie.
This is what Brigid loved about her relatives.
They were good people at heart. Generous and loving. Sometimes, they could be quite supercilious and silly, especially toward the local Scots. But they were never purposefully mean or ill-intentioned.
“I shall call for the very best modiste immediately,” Lady Rathbourne was saying as she fluttered about, giving instructions to the footmen, then ringing for tea to be brought.
“Good luck finding the very best, Mama,” Lucille said. “Above average will have to do. I’m certain all of the modistes in the city have been pre-engaged to help with last minute preparations for the Ball.”
“At this rate,anymodiste would do,” Elizabeth added. “We may even have to be satisfied with a common seamstress.”
She turned to look Annie up and down.
“But never fear, we shouldn’t need many alterations for you to fit into one of Lucille’s dresses. You are of similar height and figure. We only need to cinch the waist. My, but I’ve never seen such a small waist as yours,” she admired.
“Thank you,” Annie said. “But I’m sure it has little to do with my natural shape and everything to do with this ingenious corset that somehow creates an optical illusion. Supporting my bosom to never before seen heights, while still allowing me to breathe easily.”
The women paused, eyes comically wide, and Lord Rathbourne bestirred himself enough to look over the top of his newssheet.
Annie seemed to have realized her faux pas and murmured, “I do beg your pardon.”
Brigid hid a smile behind her hand. It was rare to meet a woman who had even less command of proper decorum than she did.
“Ha ha,” Lady Rathbourne laughed weakly. “All that time in the…where did you say you lived before your arrival here?”
“The Orient.”
“Yes. All that time in the Orient must have made your manners rusty. Let us retire to our own suites to discuss your evening wardrobe in private. I am sure our gentlemen find such topics too retiring to attend.”
