The Ruthless Captain

Chapter 12

Lady Elizabeth was as handsome as rumours went. She had dark blonde hair that radiated light whenever the evening sun casted upon it, spiralling down in loose curls along her pretty face. Her eyes were a pale green, loving and calming to look at. As far as looks were concerned, she was definitely one men would gawk at and wouldn't dare to look away in fear of missing anything she has done. However, her personality could be easily compared to a spoon. She was tedious. She nearly bored me to tears when I asked her what readings she has done in the past and to only receive an answer of German literature set by her tutor. I asked if she done things outside of school and got an answer that she helps her mother with charity work. I asked if she has done anything thrilling and she told me one time she snuck out into the kitchens to steal a tart. She had beamed proudly back at me, expecting me to be impressed of her presumably reckless ways. I could tell she had felt crestfallen when I formed a small awkward smile, returning it back at her.

 

Mother couldn't possibly expect me to marry her.

 

I would rip my hair out because of boredom!

I couldn't help myself but feel an air of triumph that he wasn't interested in Lady Elizabeth after all. Obviously, I was more interesting than Lady Elizabeth and had much more to say without boring poor Thomas to death. I bet she was a well-kept woman, never breaking any rules or taken any steps out of line whenever she felt wronged. I remembered back all the arguments I had with father about when I stood my ground that I would prefer to read than go out to his engagements with the townsmen, often giving appearances for the family's reputation sake. To be spending hours in some stuffy ballroom, declining dances from heinous men and eating bland food was definitely not what I wanted to waste my hours away in life. Flipping through a couple of more pages, his grotesque hand writing caught my eye. The ink seemed to be more pressing, darker and more pronounced as if he had pressed his pen harder on the papers, spilling out onto the pages with his anger.

 

I returned late this evening after attending Sir Elliot's ball.

The first sentence said. Odd, I know of a Sir Elliot and if these dates were correct, I had attended a ball during this time as well. Could we have attended the same ball and did not meet each other while we were there?

I met someone. Well, not very much as met but I did see her from afar. She was absolutely gorgeous. Stunningly beautiful with her raven black hair, she had eyes that sparkled and flickered with mischief and wonder. I wanted to speak to her as soon as I stepped into the ballroom but was quickly taken away by my best friend Anthony, drawing me close to the corner to discuss more important matters. I knew the Hiddleston family was beginning to form enemies. As a son and possible heir to the estate, I was to be responsible for all troubling manners at hand. Father had recently returned from a business trip, trading oils and seed made in the farms. He was met with his partner, Daniel Winslet.

I gasped, stunned by reading my father's name. Our families knew each other all this time? How come father never told me about his business trip partner? On second thought, maybe he did. But not so discretely. Memories of me passing by my parent's rooms and hearing hushed whispers through the paper thin walls came fleeting back at this moment. I remembered father nearly yelling to the top of his lungs, claiming great mistrust and travesty to a family called Hiddleston. And on that very same day, father had attended dinner in a gruff manner, hot faced and tempered by everything the maids had done wrong. He scolded them—which has never done before—and threatened. Just when dinner was winding down did he look at all my sisters in the eye and announced that we were never to attend a gathering with the Hiddleston family. We had wanted to ask why. Rumour had it, the boys from the clan were absolutely handsome and perfectly reputable but father had none of it. He told us because it was simply his word. Reluctantly agreeing, we avoided every single event we heard they would attend.

We had only attended Sir Elliot's ball because there was a word of confirmation that they wouldn't show...I don't remember meeting any member from his family. Taking my bottom lip into my mouth, I chewed thoughtfully and read on.

When I heard the news the Winslet family was present, I hadn't flinched. I couldn't care less. My father's problems and my problems were simply two jars on the shelf. It didn't mix and I shouldn't have cared. But my good friend Anthony helpfully pointed out that because the Winslets were there, they would sure to cause havoc at the ball and thereby ruining everyone's fun. I had shook it off, saying if they hadn't want to see my face, they should leave right now. After stalking away from my friend, I approached the fair maiden I had seen from earlier, ready to charm her way when I heard her pudgy friend by her side call her by her full name.

 

Sophie Winslet.

 

She was a Winslet.

What? I nearly dropped the journal at the sight of my name. So he known me all along? And here I was a fool for thinking we had just met and Charlie lost me to him blindly, not knowing who I was and how I looked like. I felt sick to my stomach. Suddenly, the boat rocketing up and down on the huge wave lengths made me feel sicker than before. First, he was a Hiddleston. A jolt of fear shot through my veins when I realized my father would have my head if he knew I had bedded him and if I was with him as we speak in this god only knows what kind of relationship this was. And now, I find out he knew me all along? What game was he possibly playing? With a shuddering breath, I read on.

Sophie Winslet left before I could even give a mere hello. Her annoyingly dumb witted friend had pulled her across to the opposite side of the ballroom, drawing her to deeper corridors where women powdered their noses and whatever the hell they do for such a beseechingly long time. I had grown irritated waiting for her to exit, drinking spirits whenever I saw an opportunity to settle my nerves. With grave disappointment, I left the ballroom with nothing but a crushed heart and tension in my body from never seeing her again.

 

I had made the uttermost stupid mistake of ever mentioning to my brother Marlow. Marlow had completely gone mad, claiming my betrayal against the whole family, causing wild mayhem to ensue with his bloody roaring and shouting. My father heard it all at once. How I fancied Sophie and wanted to court her if I had the chance. He had gripped me by my collars, spitting in my face that I shall never speak of the Winslets ever again for as long as I lived underneath his roof. And that was when it all poured out. I had shouted, angry and furious at his proclamation. How dare he pretend he was the caring father every boy dreamt of growing up? How dare he pretend he didn't treat Marlow with more of his love and favoured him over me? How dare he pretend he ever even cared for me? I told everyone in that household right then and there that I need of my true birth mother. I shouted that I knew of my father's wicked ways and soured past and how he was ashamed of me and would never give me the title. I was struck by him across the face. Never since I was a young age of ten was I struck by my father. I couldn't live there. I couldn't stand it for any minute longer. Grabbing whatever I had left in my closet, I walked out and since never looked back.

Oh god, I thought to myself. I was going to vomit. So, I was the tipping point in their relationship? I was the factor that broke their weak foundation and ruined their family ties. Looking down at the sleeping man, I grimaced and mourned for their losses. Surely, his father had loved him and he was wrong for ever thinking nothing but love. Couldn't they talk it out? Couldn't they mend their words and build their relationship back? And what the bloody hell was happening between my family and his?