"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
Miss Clarice Jennings spotted her best friend sitting near the refreshment table when she companied her aunt, the Baroness Kingsley to Almack's. While Lady Kingsley excused herself to talk with the matrons, Clarice made her way to her friend who looked rather irritated than bored.
"Dione," she said.
Dionysia turned to see her best friend staring at her and asked, "Where you dragged as well?"
Clarice shook her head as if to say no, and sat beside her friend. "Where you?" she inquired Dionysia
Dionysia nodded and sighed, "Mama says that I will have a strong chance for proposal if I attend every social event."
"Is Annette here?"
Dionysia scowled, marring her pretty face and said, "Annette feign poor health and got away with staying at home."
"Well," said Clarice cheerfully, "I'm here and you shan't be bored."
Dionysia beamed at her, and said, sighing, "I wish Rose was here."
Their friend, Lady Rosalie Fairchild had married last year to her childhood sweetheart, Drake Pierce, Duke of Scondale. Their nuptials had stirred the gossips and no one could believe that the Duke of Scondale would marry a deaf girl. Which was rather irritating. Just because Rose couldn't hear didn't mean the girl had no wits. Her wits were quite intact, and as much as Dionysia was happy for her friend, who now resided in Derbyshire with her husband and newborn son, Rose was dearly missed. Her silent comfort was no longer there.
"I wish it too," said Clarice, then scanning the room, she added, "And the Duke of Hartwell isn't here."
"What?" Dionysia snapped, her attention turning to the ballroom floor. Clarice was correct. Amongst the gentleman and ladies mingling around the dance floor, the Duke was nowhere in sight. Drat! What was point in coming here then?
"Nor is the Marquess of Rothsbey," said Clarice.
Dionysia blushed to the mere mention of Lord Rothsbey's name, and averting her eyes downward to the floor, she coughed dramatically and said, "whyever did you bring him about?"
But Clarice narrowed her violet eyes knowing, and she said, "Is there something you're not telling me, dear?"
"Me? What, No!" Dionysia said in denial. But Clarice knew better and she coughed.
"You're lying," said Clarice, "And you are awfully terrible at it."
"Well," said Dionysia, rather embarrassed, as she began to confess. "It is a matter concerning Lord Rothsbey--,"
Clarice now placed her full attention on Dionysia
"During the ball yesterday, he...." She trailed. Blast it! To mention the kiss was so damn difficult to bring up.
"He-we-kissed," she blurted in a defeated tone and was well aware that her fact her face was red as a tomato.
Clarice's eyes widened, "Good God, was it your first?"
Mutely, Dionysia nodded.
"With Lord Rothsbey?" Clarice asked, astonished. "I thought you wanted your first to be with His Grace."
"I guess things don't go as planned," muttered Dionysia
Clarice looked rather intrigued by the fact that Dionysia had kissed Lord Rothsbey rather than the Duke of Hartwell, so as a natural curious girl she was, Clarice asked, "Was it good?"
Dionysia flushed. How was she to describe it? The kiss was, in her own words, "Remarkable," she found herself saying, "He has such soft lips. But I swear it was the magic of the moment that compelled us to do so." Drusilla paused before continuing, "We were talking about Artemis and Apollo."
"The Olympian twins?" Clarice asked.
Dionysia nodded, "And then we got on about talking about each other. Do you know Lady Delilah Phillips?"
"That's the younger sister of Lord Rothsbey. I saw her at Lady Creston's ball." said Clarice, "He also has a twin sister named Dalia, who recently married the Earl of Greenchurch."
"He's also the only son of the Duke and Duchess of Cravern," added Drusilla
"And soon he'll become the duke," said Clarice. She smiled at Drusilla and said, "Pray, Dione, are you interested in him?"
"Of course not," said Dionysia, "The only man I'm interested in is the Duke of Hartwell."
Clarice frowned, "Shouldn't you allow other men to court you? It's not healthy to only pin for His Grace."
Dionysia was morally offended, "I'm not pinning for His Grace, and I just want to marry the man I love."
Clarice sadly shook her head, "I don't think you know the true meaning of love."
"Oh and you do?" Dionysia couldn't help but feel irritated.
Clarice smiled, weakly, "I may not have fallen in love, but I know the difference between an infatuation and love. And what you feel towards His is more infatuation than love."
Dionysia wanted to deny, wanted to scream at Clarice that she had no right, but she knew that Clarice was honest without a fault.
"And tell me," said Dionysia, "what is love?"
"Love," said Clarice, "Is when you see a person for their flaws. When you accept the imperfections and view them as perfections. Love is when the one you love means more to you then yourself. When the word ' I love you' holds a powerful effect on your heart."
"Oh Clarice," sighed Dionysia, "How I wish I was wise as you."
Clarice smiled, "My dear, I'm only a keen observer. Wisdom is a different thing entirely."
"So explain to me how your middle name Sophia does not fit into your character?"
"And here I thought it was because my mother named me after my grandmother."
"Well we all know that," said Dionysia, "How your mother name you after her Russian mother, Sophia Grand Duchess of Petersburg. But sometimes names can give to a person's character."
"Nyet," said Clarice, "I don't think so."
Dionysia nodded, "It does."
It was then, that two girls passed them, and said, "She is a bit lovesick, Miss Dionysus. I saw her pin pathetically at His Grace."
Dionysia snapped and turned to see a blonde and a redhead huddled together, peeping glances and laughing. Great, it was the spoiled Lady Arabella Downs and her equally spoiled mean-spirited, Lady Grace Browns
"Ignore them," said Clarice, "They are only jealous that His Grace hardly even knows they exist."
"Miss Dionysus," called out Lady Arabella, "How is that you are pinning persistently for His Grace? My mother says that any girl does so is desperate. Are you desperate for him? If you are desperate you can always become his mistress."
Lady Grace laughed, and Dionysia felt her anger boiling her blood. She wanted to strike Lady Arabella's face, for all the venom she spat out she deserved it.
Clarice grabbed Dionysia arm and squeezed it. "Don't let her bother you," she cautioned, "It's not worth it."
Dionysia calmed and turned Lady Arabella and said, coolly, "At least I danced with him and the Marquess of Rothsbey. Tell me, Arabella, how many gentlemen looked your way? Clarice says none would dare for the unfortunate scandal your family's in. Pity, isn't it?"
That seemed to shut Arabella up. Arabella's blue eyes burned in anger, and her pretty mouth twisted into a sneer. Her cheeks burned red and she glared. Every one in he ton knew about the disastrous marriage between the Earl and Countess of Moncrieff. After three children, one being the heir, the earl and countess became estranged. And while the earl had countless of mistresses, the current being the ever-lovely German Baroness von Rhine, the countess became a long-time mistress of the Prince Regent.
Arabella sneered, "How dare you!"
Clarice decided that she had enough and stood up, her violet eyes coolly set on Arabella, "How dare you," she said in a calm voice, "If you don't want to be humiliated for your family sins. Cease your insults and leave us alone."
Lady Grace snarled and placed her hand on Arabella's arm, "Come now, Bella. Let's leave these spinsters alone in their shadows."
With a flip of her blonde hair, Arabella huffed and turned her shoulder, and both Lady Arabella and Lady Grace walked away.
Dionysia relaxed and then turned to Clarice, "I never liked her. Always wanting to make others miserable as a way to avoid her scandalous life."
"Nor have I," said Clarice, "But let's not talk about Arabella no more. I find my mood soured because of it."
That, Dionysia agreed to.
"David," said Delilah
David was in the library, sitting one of the comfortable sofas, when he looked up from his book to see his sister, Delilah glaring at him with both hands on her hips. Unlike he and his twin Dalia who took after their father, Delilah took well after their mother. Delilah had light brown hair and hazel eyes. Her stature was medium height, and has a willowy body frame. She was wearing a light blue satin dress with sliver embroidery designs.
"What is it, Lila?" he asked.
"Have you forgotten?" Delilah asked.
David furrowed his brows and asked, "Forgotten what?"
Delilah rolled her eyes, and said, "You promised to take me to Madame Louie's musicale."
David frowned, his brows scrunched in thought and then looked at his youngest sister. Delilah did look rather impatient, so he placed his book down and said, "I might as well then. When is Madame Louie's musicale?"
"In a few minutes. But Honoria and I plan to meet up early there."
"So you can ogle Lord Thomas Weston?" David asked, teasingly.
Delilah blushed, her cheeks red. How delightful it was that his youngest sister found a gentleman to fancy. Lord Thomas Weston was the younger son of the Marquess of Dorne. It was about time Delilah found other interests than her books.
"And you were ogling Miss Merton," Delilah countered.
David flushed and said, in denial, "I was not."
"Pish. Don't take me for a fool. You were looking at her as if you wanted to devour her. And then you got the courage to dance with her."
David did not to have this conversation, so he stood up and said heading towards the door, "Do you want to go to Madame Louie's musicale, or not?"
Delilah huffed and followed, "Don't think this conversation is over, Davy. We still have much to discuss."
"There is nothing to discuss, Lila," said David, his voice firm on that note.
From the library they walked in silence when they encountered their mother. Leonora Phillips, Duchess of Cravern was still handsome in her age. For a woman in her fifties, she had bright hazel eyes with a few wrinkles at the edges; her light brown hair had light streaks of silver pulled into a tight coiffure and she wore an olive green dress that complimented her well. Leonora walked with swift grace and her eyes set on her two children.
"Mama," said Delilah, rushing over to be by her side.
Leonora looked at her daughter, and after studying her, she mused, "Are you going somewhere, Delilah?"
"To Madame Louie's musicale," said Delilah, "Remember I told you that I was meeting Honoria there?"
Leonora nodded and said, softly, "Of course. And David is taking you there?"
David looked at his mother, "Yes, Mother."
Leonora nodded and waved her hand, "Off you go then."
Both David and Delilah departed and as they made their way into the carriage, David knocked the ceiling to notify the driver to move, and the carriage moved from Cravern House. The ride was supposedly a silent one, or it was supposed to be a silent one as it was when Delilah chose to bring the topic of Miss Merton back.
"I saw her at Lady Creston ball," Delilah mused, thoughtfully, "She was dancing with the Duke of Hartwell."
David grunted but said nothing as he looked out the window. They were now passing Mayfair, where may of his friends took up their London residences. The carriage turned past the roaming streets.
"She's quite a lovely lady," Delilah went one. "And her eyes. Whiskey-colored. A rarity, isn't."
"Delilah," said David, "I don't--"
But Delilah ignored him, going on, "His Grace is rumored to be one of the most wealthiest men in Britain. I wonder if she's attracted to him because of that. Because if that's the case, she's not the first."
"Oh for Heaven's sake, Delilah. Will you let this matter be?"
Looking at her brother, who seemed ruffled by her talk of Miss Merton, Delilah shook her head, "Afraid not."
This ride was going to be the death of him. He was not going to hear the end of this. He didn't want Delilah to talk about Miss Merton because it would make it only difficult for him to not think about her.
"She's quite pretty," Delilah was now saying, repeating herself. Clearly she was not going to let this go. "And she looked quite in love with His Grace."
David snapped. "In love with Hartwell?" he choked
Delilah's lips curved, "Yes, I believe she does. So does Honoria." She went on, "Not that is a secret really. His Grace does have every girl fawning over him. Handsome, rich, a duke-"
"There are other dukes, you know," David reminded her.
"-Mysterious. No one knows much about him other then that his late mother, the former duchess was a princess from the Russian Empire." Delilah went on, ignoring him, as if he hadn't said a word. "Also, he-"
David realized that the carriage stopped, and with immense relief, he cut Delilah off, and said, "Good. We are here."
As Delilah, stood up prepared to get down, the door being opened from the footman, "This isn't over," she said, "We still have much to discuss."
She allowed the footman to help her down, and David followed her stead. As the carriage door closed, they made their way to wards the small, but ancient townhouse that belonged to Monsieur Louie and his wife, Madame Louie.
The butler, who went but the name of de Gaulle opened the door and said, in a thick French accent, "Monsieur de Rothsbey, welcome to Louie Lodge. I am very honored that you have accepted Madame's invitation."
David nodded and said, "It was our pleasure."
De Gaulle nodded, and bowed to Delilah, "Mademoiselle."
He allowed them entry, and soon, the house was filled with music. There was chattering, and laughter. Delilah led him to Madame Louie's saloon, where ladies and gentlemen were attended.
Madame Louie, a beautiful dark-haired beauty, not even near thirty saw Delilah and after excusing herself, made her way towards them
"Lady Delilah," she exclaimed in her thick French accent, "I am very pleased vat you have made it to my home."
"I am pleased and honored as well," said Delilah
Madame Louie looked at David, and said, curtsying to him, "Monsieur de Rothsbey, bonjour!"
Taking Madame Louie's hand, he kissed and said, "I am honored."
He let go of her hand and she clapped her hands together and said, "Come, come. Le musicale is to start."
She could not believe it. He was here. Dionysia had come to Madame Louie, to enjoy listening to famous classic musicians, and had not expected to see Lord Rothsbey to be in attendance. Yet, to her horror, he was. Standing beside a willowy figured girl that must be his sister, her traitorous heart summersaulted by the sight of him.
Following their kiss in the balcony terrace at Lady Creston's ball, he made it almost impossible to leave her thoughts. And now she seemed to find herself infatuated with him. Dionysia froze. Infatuated? Infuriated was more like it.
But infuriated or not, she couldn't help but yearning for him. Drusilla shook her head. Nononononono! The man she liked, who she loved, was the Duke of Hartwell.
"Dionysia," said her mother, and Dionysia snapped.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mama," said Dionysia, "But its trifle hot in here."
She opened her fan and waved herself, dramatically, towards her face.
"Well," said her mother, "Pay attention the orchestra. It has been a while since we heard the Moonlight Sonata by Mr. Beethoven. He managed to make it all the way from Vienna to perform here and we must honor him and his efforts by listening to his masterpiece.
Dionysia stopped fanning herself and listened as Mr. Beethoven waved his music handle back and forth, following the composition pages being turned on the stand.
Dionysia closed her eyes, as she listened to the composition. Then she imagined herself in a balcony terrace, watching a person playing the piano, an it was night, dark with only the moon shining above to cast its luminous light.
He was standing in front of her, his back turned that she could not see his face. But the sight of him, made her heart beat. And then he turned, his eyes, luminously reflected by the moon, and she held her breath. She made her way towards him, until she was in his arms, the sweet, masculine scent of him, and gazed into his eyes, before she stretched up to her toes and kissed him, her lips brushing his.
And when the music ended and applauds was followed, Dionysia opened her eyes, with tears brimming.
Her mother was alarmed, "Dear?"
"It was beautiful," whispered Dionysia, clearly moved.
Wiping her eyes, she stood and then turned to see Lord Rothsbey. Then as if he could sense, he gaze, he turned and his blue eyes were on her. Dionysia stiffened and turned away, her cheeks burning from her blush.
The person in her daydream that evolved as the music was playing was bot the Duke of Hartwell. It was the Marquess of Rothsbey.
And what was even worse was that she wanted him.
Wanted him, badly
After the musicale had ended, Clarice sought Dionysia out. Clarice had flush to her cheeks, and she was very emotionally. She gushed to Dionysia as the two sat down in Madame Louie's garden and gushed, "He was magnificent."
"Moonlight Sonata is one of his famed masterpiece," said Dionysia, "Along with Fur Elise."
"Rumor had it that he wrote I for a lady name Elise, with whom he was madly in love with," remarked Clarice, "But then men often would do things for the woman he loves."
"Would he do anything?" asked Dionysia.
"Yes," said Clarice, and then sensing something was wrong with Drusilla's tone, she asked, "What's wrong, Dione?"
"I think...I think I like him," whispered Dionysia
"Hartwell?" Clarice asked, "Yes, you've mentioned that a thousand times."
"Not Hartwell," Dionysia blurted
"Who then?" asked Clarice. Then without asking for an answer, "You mean Rothsbey?"
Dionysia groaned, "I can't get him out of my mind. I'm always thinking about him."
"Oh, Dione..."
"What do I do?" Dionysia never felt this conflicted.
"What you should always do. Listen to your heart."