With a huff of frustration, Sterling pulled the knot from his bow tie and tried again for the fourth time. He had always hated formal dress, had always been terrible at tying these things. And it wasn't helping that his hands were drenched in sweat from nerves. He had slept hardly a wink last night, dreading this day and the pressure it brought upon him. Sterling hated being the center of attention but all eyes would be on him tonight. The thought of speaking to dozens of beautiful women made him nervous but not half as nervous as the idea that one of them could be his future wife.
"Let me do it," someone said from the doorway and Sterling looked into the mirror in front of him to see his sister approaching from behind. She looked wonderful in an elegant pink dress and the pearls that their aunt had given her on her last birthday. She flattened out his lapel and began the process of tying his bowtie. He held his head up so that she could see. After a moment, she spoke. "Many of the women are already here. But I imagine you'll be hiding out in this office until the festivities begin."
She raised an eyebrow as she finished tying the tie. She straightened it out and then turned him so that he could see for himself in the mirror. She kept her hands on his shoulders and peered into his eyes from her place behind him.
"There is nothing to worry about," she told him softly, kindly. "You're charming, attentive, kind, and I'm told attractive. They already love you."
He kissed her hand and smiled in appreciation for her show of affection. She patted him on the shoulder once more before she turned for the door.
"Come out when you're ready."
He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked handsome enough, he supposed, but these women would be scrutinizing every inch of him and he knew they would find plenty there to scrutinize. He took a deep breath. There was no sense in further delaying the inevitable. So, after one last straightening of his bowtie, he turned and headed for the door.
He could hear the noise of the ball the moment he opened his office door. Below him, on the first floor, the grand hall would be teeming with guests eagerly awaiting the arrival of their host. He heard women laughing and calling to one another, as well as the low thrum of several men's voices as well. He cleared his throat and descended the stairs.
"Lord Huntington," he was approached the moment his feet hit the first floor landing. She was a modest girl in a bright yellow dress and exorbitant jewels. Her smile showed the gap in her teeth as she introduced herself. "My name is Lillith Morris."
"Well, it is very nice to meet you Miss Morris," Sterling said, stooping to kiss her hand as tradition dictated. She blushed at the contact. "Do you happen to know where I can find my sister?"
"Oh yes. She's just over there," the girl pointed across the hall and Sterling saw Cora there, talking with two other women whom he did not recognize. "The Lady Cora was kind enough to show me your official portrait. It is very handsome, my Lord."
More blushing.
"Thank you, dear," he said with a smile. "Please, enjoy the refreshments. I'm afraid I must excuse myself for a word with my sister."
Then he was pushing past the smiling girl in the yellow dress and through a sea of curious onlookers. Women smiled his way and men nodded in greeting. He did his best to get through all of it with grace and civility until he was finally approaching his sister. She was laughing with the two women she had been speaking to when he arrived at her side. She turned and smiled at him.
"There you are! Sterling, I would like to introduce you to Miss Ella Bennett and Miss Violet Carter," Cora said kindly, placing her arm through his as she did. He smiled at the guests.
"Bennett?" he asked. "As in the logging Bennetts?"
"You remember," she said, face lighting up at the prospect. "My father still talks about the day you came to the plot. He still can't believe a lord would debase himself with such backbreaking manual labor."
Sterling smiled. "Your father needed the help. He was always willing to loan my father funds and support for whatever Northbrook was in need of. I figured I may as well work off some of that debt."
"Logging is hard work," Miss Carter put in. "You must be very strong."
Cora looked down at her feet, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a smile indicating her barely restrained laughter. He couldn't help but smile at the obvious ploy either.
"No more than any other man," he assured her. Then, he caught a glimpse of the man standing over her shoulder. Sir Alfred Hughes stood a few feet away speaking with the Duke Gilbert of Afton, a man who, as Steling well knew, had a daughter around his age. He turned to Cora and whispered to her. "Sir Alfred is still here?"
"He decided to stay this morning last minute," she whispered back.
He nodded, excused himself, and strode over to Sir Alfred and Duke Gilbert, both of whom smiled at his arrival.
"Sir Alfred, I wasn't expecting to see you here," Sterling said kindly.
"Ah, yes," Sir Alfred answered. "Well, I thought on your kind invitation and remembered the King's orders to meet with as much of the nobility as I could along my way. I thought there could be no better occasion to do so, what with them all gathered in such a way."
Sterling nodded but watched the man as he did. He had no reason to suspect Sir Alfred of anything at all but the advisor had seemed so set on leaving before the ball last night. He could not help but wonder what had so drastically changed his mind.
"Sir Hughes was just keeping me updated on all of the goings on in the capital," Duke Gilbert said then and Sterling's attention turned to him. "Tell me, how is that princess of ours getting along?"
"She is marvelous," Sir Hughes beamed. "A true ray of light in these bleak times. She fears for her uncle of course, remains at his side."
"Ah yes, a beautiful girl," the Duke spoke. Sir Hughes' head snapped in his direction. "Or so I am told."
"Yes, she's a lovely girl," Sir Hughes said, for some reason visibly relaxing. "I do believe we will be having a ball like this of our own quite soon."
"To find the princess a husband?" the Duke asked, eyes sparkling at the prospect, no doubt thinking of his wild and reckless unwed son. "But I thought the princess was betrothed to Prince Lucien of Baliene."
"Not officially. Not yet. It may be a better political move for her to marry one of her own countrymen, to show her patriotism and honor her subjects."
And garner support to avoid a rebellion, Sterling thought but he did not dare say that aloud. Sir Hughes seemed to be avoiding the topic of the rebellion at all costs and Sterling was not going to be the one to bring it up to him.
"If you are still unwed at the time, I invite you to attend Lord Huntington," Sir Hughes said, smiling as he took a sip of his wine. There was amusement in his eyes at the very idea but Sterling hadn't the faintest idea why. Of course he would attend such an event if the occasion should arise. Every unmarried man of nobility would be expected to go. It would be considered an insult if he refused.
"I am honored, Sir Hughes," Sterling said with a bow and then excused himself to attend to his many other guests.
Reluctantly, he began to make the rounds. He spoke to each girl in turn, trying his best to begin an actual conversation with any one of them but all they seemed to want to speak of was how handsome he was or how beautiful his estate was or of his family or breeding. They wanted to spend their time complimenting him or swooning over him. The ones he did manage to get talking about themselves only stuck to the topic of their families and only with the intention of letting him know that they would be willing to abandon them and move here with him if he so decided. After about an hour, he turned away from a horribly dull girl in an orange dress to see his cousin, the Duchess, laughing grandly at something her companion had told her.
It took him a moment to realize that the woman whose arm the Duchess was clutching in her doubled over state of laughter was a servant from his own kitchens. Brenna. She was dazzling in a deep emerald dress with very few embellishments save for the lace covered bodice and matching long sleeves. It was simple compared to the other extravagant dresses in the room, understated, and somehow that made it more beautiful. Her gorgeous caramel hair was done up in an extraordinary fashion and she had added just a touch of makeup to her face. Not much at all. She did not need it. All at once, Sterling realized that she had the most natural beauty he had ever seen. The girl smiled at the state the Duchess was in and the room seemed to glow a little brighter.
Suddenly, he noticed his palms were sweating. Embarrassed, he wiped them on his trousers and set off toward the recovering Duchess and her intriguing guest.
"Duchess," he said as he approached. His cousin, having regained her composure, smiled at him. "I see you found your conversationalist."
"Indeed I did," the Duchess said. "She's delightful. I see you've been making your rounds. Anyone caught your eye yet?"
Sterling thought about how to answer that question in the nicest way possible without lying and settled on. "They are all very... interesting."
"So no then," the Duchess smiled over the rim of her nearly empty wine glass. Sterling smiled back.
"Enjoy the ball, Adelaide."
Then he turned and walked away, forcing himself to return to the crowd of waiting women. After a few more hours of trying in vain to find someone able to hold a conversation, Sterling was beginning to feel quite tired of the effort and instead gave into the mundane exchange of compliments. He tried to think of girls that may have stood out to him. Miss Wright was sweet. She seemed kind when she asked about his family, though he knew that she already knew everything about them. Miss Taylor was perhaps among the most beautiful and had been a prospect his sister had encouraged. Miss Roberts had said she's enjoyed art but then couldn't name a single painting when he'd asked for her favorite.
Eventually, his head was spinning as he tried to remember them all and he found himself needed a bit of fresh air. So he made his way through the suffocating crowd to the double doors in the back corner that led to an open balcony. Quickly, he wrenched open the doors and slipped outside, closing the doors behind him and imagining he would have at least a few minutes alone before they found him. But when he turned around to the balcony, he saw that he wasn't alone at all.
Standing at the railing, a wine glass sitting in front of her, was Brenna. She raised an eyebrow at his escape and he laughed at the sight he must have been, sprinting from a room of beautiful girls vying for his attention for a moment of peace. But she said nothing in judgement. She only turned back around to continue admiring the grounds from the balcony. The sun was setting, the gardens were in the distance. It was a beautiful view. Sterling approached and leaned against the raining beside her, appreciating the view himself.
"A sunset is both an end and a beginning," she said. "An end to all of the days before and the pain that the past holds-"
"And a beginning to those days ahead and the potential that is the very essence of the future," Sterling finished the quotation and smiled at her.
She smiled back and took a sip of her wine.
"Antionette Cloutier," he said. "You are a librarian's daughter."
"You know Cloutier," she said, eying him carefully. "Some would call her work controversial. There are some circles where her writing is banned."
"I'm no rebel," he said. "And I can appreciate art whether it is created by male or female."
She smiled and took another sip of wine. He watched her curiously.
"And what are you?" he asked. "A rebel? A traditionalist? A proponent for change?"
"I'm a kitchen maid," she answered with a quirked brow and a sly smile and, for the first time all night, he barked out a genuine laugh. She smiled and asked. "So, why the grand escape?"
"I just needed a few minutes alone. To catch my breath."
She nodded, surprisingly understanding.
"I'll leave you to it, then," she said, heading for the door. "And I'll be sure to trip the lock on my way in to buy you some time."
He smiled and turned back to the view, taking a deep breath to steady himself. As momentous as the choice ahead of him was, when he heard the sound of the door shutting behind him and the accompanying "Oh dear me! Such a tricky lock!," he couldn't help but smile.