Emett

Prologue

HAMPSHIRE, ENGLAND
1844

"He is beautiful, he truly is!" Ivy breathlessly confided in her two friends.

Lillian was no proof against the admission either, "Oh, I dare say you are right! How is one to deny it? He is splendid. He knows it, surely. Can't you see it in his gait, the commanding manner? He knows he leaves the female hearts ablaze in his wake!"

"Ah! Such a wicked, vicious heart! What a strikingly gorgeous man!" Ivy still sighed as she continued her pleasurable scrutiny of the male specimen from afar.

The two shared a sly smile when they saw him hold Lady Greta's hand and take it to his lips for a gentle kiss, he was merely welcoming her to the ball but the girls witnessed the telltale blush that colored the woman's face; she wanted him, just like every other woman present at the ball.

He had started chatting with his guests now, his back turned towards them. Not being able to see his face brought some clarity of thought to both the girls for the first time that evening, they realized the fact that Francesca hadn't shared her opinion of him with them. They looked at one another, and then stared at her, she knew they both wanted her to join in the conversation but she dexterously avoided eye contact.

"Well?!" they questioned her in unison.

She forced herself to look in their direction and replied with feigned innocence, "Well, what?"

"Well, what do you think about him?" asked Lillian with undue emphasis on the word him.

"I don't. That is to say, -er- it has never crossed my mind. I...I don't think about him." Francesca could feel herself melting away under their blatant inspection. The profusion of blood coursing through her dilated veins, made her feel as though her face was baking to a scarlet gold.

"Oh, come on, you! It is written all over your face. Why do you feel the need to hide it from us?" Ivy pointed out with friendly indignation.

Francesca desperately defended her disposition, "there is nothing to hide, Ivy. I am not lying to you. I don't really think anything of him. He is not attractive to me."

"We can't believe you, you know. But if you have chosen not to admit it to us, it is your choice and we will never force you to say something you don't want to say." Ivy generously allowed her friend to exercise privacy in the matter.

The ball was suddenly appearing to be a dreary, dull affair. As Francesca scanned the faces of the ladies garbed in expensive muslin, chiffon and brocaded silk, she recognized plummeted spirits here and there and then she looked at her two friends, they had also started registering the same symptoms. It dawned on Francesca then that he had slipped away from the ballroom. It was rather strange to her how the happiness of so many women was the doing of one man only. For him to have such a profound effect on so many hearts was a thing of immense fascination. It wasn't as though there weren't many other eligible bachelors in the vicinity, au contraire, there were several other very handsome and suitable men in this particular social gathering. Francesca wished the women would not have their hearts set on just the one man. She could, even now, see a few ladies dancing and enjoying themselves with their partners; she felt that the soirée still had a lot of life left in it. She, however, knew that several young ladies (and older ones as well) would love to disagree with her.

"Shall we go into the garden, ladies?" Lillian inquired of her two friends. Since the object of her desire was no longer in the room, she planned on looking for him on the outer grounds. Where else could he have gone? She asked herself.

"Oh yes, please!" Ivy replied with marked enthusiasm.

Francesca was about to object but Ivy clutched onto her elbow tightly and lightheartedly ordered her, "Oh come along, you! No excuses!"