illicit affairs. | bridgerton

Chapter One

⠀⠀Wispy lashes slowly fluttered open, Ophelia's eyes quickly being drowned by the white light blasting through the crystal clear windows of her bedroom; the ripe age of twenty-two had been full of surprises already, including the sudden news of a lifetime. The Wynns were to move their primary residence to the streets of Grovesnor Square— and Ophelia's life was to be uprooted forever, starting today. Now in what seemed to be an exoskeleton of the room she'd once grown to be a lady of stellar form in, bare feet gently grazed the oak panels of the floor beneath her as the summer humidity finally hit her skin. How lovely, her thoughts ran rampant, perfect weather for the travels. But she had to remind herself there were to be more than enough joy to come in the future that was worth the stuffy ride in the carriage.
⠀⠀Soon enough, Ophelia would be making her first appearance as a debutante— twenty-two was far beyond her 'ripe years', according to her own father and denied by her mother, and she was to marry soon. After all, she couldn't risk becoming a spinster like her dearest Aunt Thérèse (whom her father had simply refused to acknowledge, even in her presence— after all, he thought she'd been a bad example for his sweet girl) childless and alone, yet loved by so many.
⠀⠀And it hadn't been as if Ophelia purely detested the idea of finding a young suitor to spend the rest of her days with, no matter how detestable they truly were— in fact, she quite enjoyed the thought of having a love like her mother and father. After all, she'd never seen something as pure and true as their love and it had been one for the stories. Well . . . at least to Ophelia, who never truly understood the strife they had seemed to hide away behind intricately carved doors. But that was nothing "for a young lady to worry about" by any means, and her father had made sure of it, rather spending his time ensuring she had the finest upbringing he could supply. From etiquette to table manners to dancing to the harp, Ophelia had been trained to be the most resilient diamond possible but it felt like it could never be enough. How could she be enough when all she ever did was try? It had been years and years of trying, years and years of bitten nails and gasping lungs yet what had come of it 'til now? And the thought of being a spinster . . . she simply couldn't bear the disappointment she would bring to her father, more than the disappointment of Ophelia being a girl in the first place. So she had to be perfect.
⠀⠀Ophelia's lady maid, Marie Rayne, had entered the room with a knock and a bright smile spread across her face. If there was anybody who the young woman could go to, it's would have to be Marie.
⠀⠀"Good morning, my Lady. How was your rest?" A curious brow quirked as she spoke, shutting the door behind her with a delicate motion.
⠀⠀"Good morning, Marie . . . Fine, I suppose. Though I found myself quite restless."
⠀⠀"Well—" Placing Ophelia's clothing for the day upon the bed, the brunette had quickly offered the option of a dress the colour of either a lavender field or an obnoxious green that practically hurt her eyes. A gift from her grandmum, surely. A slender finger had moved toward the soft purple dress, Marie quickly grabbing the stay as Ophelia unrobed and slipped the cotton shift to hang against her pale frame. "I suppose you may have time to rest, if your father permits . . . on the way to Grosvenor Square?"
⠀⠀"Oh, don't remind me . . ." A dramatic huff left Ophelia's lips as Marie began to lace and tighten the stay around her torso. "But I— I suppose I should be grateful. I've been training my whole life for this, but somehow I feel like I could ruin things at the drop of a hair pin." Her eyes had shut as she took in the thought, quickly turning her nose up at the thought.
⠀⠀"Ma biche, you have no need to worry about such things . . . What have I always told you?" Nimble and calloused fingers quickly tied the laces, now preparing the rest of the young woman's attire. "Live—"
⠀⠀"In the moment . . . oui." A calmer breath soon left Ophelia's lungs as she began to place her accessories on her person, lips curling into a smile that could warm the coldest room. If only she knew what just the simple upturn of the corner of her lip could do.
⠀⠀Soon enough, the two young women had prepared together in this room for the last time in a long time. In fact, they had practically grown up together at the estate: Marie's mother, Giselle, was the lady maid of Ophelia's mother, Margeuax. And since they lived in their own respective quarters so close to the family, how could they not be so dear to one another, despite the circumstances? It didn't matter to them.
⠀⠀"You'll be there soon, right, Marie?" Intricately crystallized gloved hands had carefully grabbed the young woman's hands, a hopeful sparkle soon flickering in Ophelia's eyes. She could only dream it wouldn't be too long until they could wander around whatever home awaited them, chatting about the dreary drama that engulfed the people of the ton.
⠀⠀"Of course, my Lady . . . We will be leaving once l' ameublement has been fully put away, whatever is coming with you. I promise." And suddenly, almost as if it was meant to happen, a rapping against the door began and Marie quickly ran to the bed, cascading the remaining linens across her forearm as Ophelia's father had entered the room with a determined grin that stretched practically ear-to-ear. Philip Wynn was the soon-to-be Duke of  Cambridge (being a hardworking man, a royal honour had been bestowed in his favour— charm had worked absolute wonders too) and he was followed by his wife, who had been a beauty beyond compare, envied by the women of the city.
⠀⠀"My dear, are you ready for the journey? I trust you made sure to get as much rest as you can . . ." A small nod ensued as Ophelia looked toward her father, eyes flickering between him and her mother. She could only wish to be as wonderful as her mother, though the sadness in her eyes had begun to worry the young lady— it was a recent discovery that she couldn't help but focus on.
⠀⠀"Come—" The sweet birdsong of the matriarch cut through the growing staleness in the room, dainty hand waving in her own direction. "We simply must try to eat before the ride, though it shouldn't be terribly long . . . it should settle nerves though, mon coeur."
⠀⠀And with no desire to wait, Ophelia had quickly trailed her way down the stairs with a twitter of excitement at the thought of breakfast. Her stomach had started to ache, twisting and turning— though she couldn't tell if she had been famished or just reacting to the changes within the boundaries of her little life. During breakfast, the Wynns had begun to eat what seemed to be the most appetizing meal Ophelia had eaten in what seemed to be the longest time; and just like that, it was time to set off to her new home for the season until she found her place in the heart of a young man deemed fit. But that wasn't going to be just any east feat— not for Ophelia.
⠀⠀Sent off with an embrace from Marie and a glance through the curtained window of the carriage, Ophelia Wynn could see that things were going to be forever changed for her.