Random Oneshots

The Greatest Team | Portia x Jack Featherington

2000 Words of Lord and Lady Featherington being my guilty pleasure couple
(and pleasure is indeed happening here)

...

Head in her hands, Portia Featherington stood beside the big study table in the bedchambers of Lord Featherington. This couldn't be true! They were, in fact, ruined. Broke. Penniless. Oh, how she had whished for Prudence to succeed and to find a good, rich, husband. He didnt even have to be that handsome or overly smart, considering that Prudence was - well, at least she was pretty. And she was Portias daughter. No matter how unfortunate she'd been in terms of wisdom, smartness, even general knowledge, behavior and looks, Portia still loved her with all her heart.

But now, she was to be wed to no other than that liar Jack Featherington, should he not keep his plan to flee London like a coward. It was a disaster. Foolishly, Portia had suggested that they could fix his mistakes, that they could use his ability to lie, that they could fool the whole ton. And now, the two were faced with the consequences of their actions. No, he was faced with the consequences.

Lady Featherington would not allow herself to fall from grace even more. Her reputation and her honor hung by a small thread, indeed, but she would not be so stupid to leave for the Americas, leaving everything she held dear, leaving her girls alone at home.

She knew Jack - Lord Featherington - didn't care for them at all. He didn't care about a wedding, or about her family, or about his reputation and the gossip. Oh, the gossip her girls would have to endure if their dear mama was to flee the country overnight. Unbearable. He only cared about his money an wealth.

And still, she was considering. Pondering upon this life-changing decision. Not because she wanted to see the Americas - God forbid, she would probably hate it there, this ungodly place with no society like the one she was born into. It was because of him. Because he had shown her that he cared about her. At least that was what she wanted to believe.

The way he talked to her, this unnerving half-smile on his lips, the joy in his eyes when she showed him her wit and cleverness, the way he told her he saw her fit to be the queen of America, the way he called them a team. Two people involved in solving a misdeed in their favour. A Team. Nothing more.

It was so stupid and childish of her. Portia thought she'd left the phase of foolishly fast heartbeats and nervousness caused by any man behind her, but the new Lord Featherington proofed her wrong. She'd even grow jealous of Prudence, her own daughter, her own blood, for the chance she had with him. Portia was not blind, she saw and knew that Lord Featherington didn't look twice at Prudence, no matter the effort on her side.

But oh, how she whished Lord Featherington would look at her this way. Lovingly, accepting, anticipating. Like the way he did before he almost kissed her. Why hadn't he kissed her? She longed for his touch and his voice. She longed for it so much, that it hurt.

At day, she whished that he would come to her rooms again, that he would talk to her, make her feel worthy and pretty. At night, she'd lay in bed, eyes wide open, and she'd dream about him kissing her, touching her, making love to her. How she hated herself for imagining something like this. The possibility, that he only played with her, that she was just another person he thought he could trick with his charms was quite high.

And now, she stood in his office, thinking about her future, about her, about him. The way he called her by her first name, her head in his hands, his eyes on hers. She could swear she fell in love right at that very moment.

Her thoughts were interupted by footsteps, and then the door swung open and revealed no other than the man of her secret fantasies. Portia tried to breathe regularily, but she failed as Lord Featheringtons lips curved into a small smile when he noticed her.