She was late. That was most certainly a fact, and Rose continued to chastise herself for being so. The day had been so crazy, with the dress preparations, and all the things that had gone wrong. First, her sisters were so demanding and begged to stay later, but of course, Rose could not say as she was not the eldest. They pestered her to no end until Rose almost screamed. By a small miracle she was able to keep her composure and continue on with the night’s preparations. Next, her dress had been torn at the skirt, a most dreadful thing, that Rose had thought she would not be able to wear the dress to the Pemberton ball. It was her favorite dress, a burgundy, silk dress that shimmered under light, and was filled with lavish embroidery. Upon discovering the tear, Rose was horrified. Chaos ensued, trying to fix the dress in time. Luckily it was and Rose, late already, headed in her carriage to the Pemberton ball. What occurred next almost drove Rose impatient. Just a few miles away, she heard clattering noises, and discovered that the wheel of the carriage had become loose to where the vehicle was not usable. The driver, just as frustrated as Rose, did his best to fix it and when he did, Rose was already an hour late. Inwardly, she had groaned, for she knew how her appearance would make a skeptical of the Rochester family. She could hear the voices now: those Rochesters will never be on time.

Now, at long last, she was here, and almost instantly all her frustration died away. The sight was nothing that could be described. Everything sparkled, everything glistened, and the music sounded so sweet to her ears. Soft chatters and light laughers filled her ears. It was the most welcoming sound. Almost blinded by the brightness, Rose held her hand to her eyes as she made her way to the crowd. Luckily no one really noticed that she had only just arrived. People everywhere were busy in their own engagements. Rose figured she should do the same, and moved through the people to get a drink.

Taking the clear glass in her hands, she lifted it to her lips and let the cool mixture flow down her throat. It was just what she needed after such a day. It calmed her nerves quickly, and Rose felt quite happy and satisfied. Rose had honestly never thought that she would ever be this happy again. She did not know what had gotten into her. Maybe it was the people, maybe it was the decoration, and maybe it was the music. Regardless of the cause, Rose consciously realized that for the first time, she really was enjoying herself. She had once thought that it would never be possible. Her whole world crumbled the moment she heard of her engagement.

As soon as Rose thought of that, Rose began to fidget. Oh, of course, she should have known her happiness would not last long. After all, HE was to be there. It had nothing to do with Duke Westley himself, but if she saw him, nothing would be able to stop her memories from going back to that day in her sister’s chamber. Also, how was she to respond to him? She had never been with him in public, only in private. Rose knew that their engagement was to be kept a secret, but that would be quite difficult considering the circumstances. Rose almost got to a point where she wished that she would not see him at all.

Taking another sip of her drink, Rose attempted to push her worries aside and focus on enjoying her time here at the ball. She was not going to let certain things spoil it for her. As much as she wished that she could fully enjoy it, and as determined as she was to not let thoughts of Westley destroy it, a frown suddenly came across her face. It was unplanned, and Rose hated that she did so. Was there any chance for her happiness? Rose looked at the concoction inside the glass and stared at her reflection. It seemed she was never going to get a chance to be happy. Westley was as good as things were going to get.

There. There she is.


Good heavens, had he really been stalking about the hall all night, constantly glancing this way and that for a chance to see Lady Rochester? No. No, of course not. He'd merely been looking for someone that he knew, anyone that he knew. He hadn't been wondering how Lady Rochester was handling their soon-to-be-official engagement, not in the slightest. He simply wanted to get away from alcohol. However, he couldn't deny that the girl looked incredibly lovely, even from so far away. He spotted her from across the room even as she drifted down the stairs as if on a cloud, her face immediately lighting up with pleasure from what she saw. It was enough to make his lips twitch into a tiny smile, though he never would have admitted it from the world. It was nice to see her looking so happy, especially when he could so rarely make her smile or laugh during their little ride through the countryside of Ashton several weeks before. He kept his spot near the wall, resting his feet from all of the dancing that he had been doing, and slid his hand through his hair as he very softly sighed. He didn't have feelings for the girl, of course. That'd be ridiculous. Those sorts of feelings were complete lies, especially if anyone ever anticipated love. Love didn't exist. Passion was true love. But perhaps one day, he'd feel some sort of passion for this girl instead of just the attraction that he felt at the moment. Perhaps she'd feel it back as well? No. No, of course not. Westley was nearly a grizzled old man. If she felt any sort of passion or attraction to him, she'd be no better than daft.


Without even really registering it, Westley began to move across the floor, taking long and sure steps that would no doubt have resonated loudly throughout the room if the sounds of his boots weren't covered by the chatter and boisterous laughter about him. His eyes unconsciously flicked across her gown, though instead of taking in the stunning colors and the complicated embroidery, like a typical man he instead took in the way that it fit her. It made her look feminine, and what he could see of the curves of her figure was absolutely lovely. He forced his eyes back up to the back of her head before his thoughts could grow lecherous in any sort of way, though he also subconsciously took in the lovely curve of her neck. She seemed distracted by something, perhaps her thoughts, which would explain why she wasn't looking around like the young girl that she was any longer. No matter. It served his purpose well. He moved carefully and lithely, sliding through the little gaps afforded by the others who were conversing or drinking, though, for once, he didn't notice the temptation that the alcohol had to offer him. His eyes were solely focused on the girl that he was drawing closer to, the one who was going to be his wife. Good heavens. He was going to be married. It was still nearly impossible for him to comprehend. However, that thought didn't distract him at the moment. Instead, keeping his thoughts focused on the task ahead, he paused behind Rose and lightly dipped his head to around the area of her ear.


"Good evening, Lady Rochester," Westley nearly drawled into her ear, his deep voice as smooth as the black satin that he was entirely clothed in. For a moment, he was nearly distracted by how lovely that she smelled, but he quickly recovered his thoughts before they could run away from him. He moved then, almost in a feline sort of way, to stand before her and look down at her with that incredibly warm gaze that he held. He no doubt looked much like he had when she had first seen him, but he prayed that she wouldn't be so shocked by the sight of him as she had been before, that perhaps she was growing a bit used to him. After all, the time would soon come when he would propose to her and ask for her to move to Edythen Manor to experience a bit of what Harleston had to offer. It would have to be a careful process, one that wouldn't scare the poor girl to death. Then again, why did he care? Why in Adesia would he worry if this girl was frightened of him or anything of the sort? Because she could ruin me. Oh yes, of course, that was for certain. Tied as closely to Ashton as she was, being the sister of the duchess, Lady Rochester could easily attempt to ruin his reputation, his hold over Harleston, and anything else revolving around him. However, she had no reason to. If she did, she would be tied in marriage to a fallen man with nothing else to offer her. That gleam in her eye was much too innocent to plan anything so great as well.


Pulling himself away from such thoughts, he bowed to the young woman before her, though kept his eyes on hers the entire time instead of dropping them to the floor. "I trust your journey from Ashton was smooth?" An obligatory question, of course, though he doubted that Lady Rochester actually knew that.

Oh no, he is here! Rose thought, feeling herself uncontrollably panic. It was not that she was surprised Duke Westley was at the ball, but seeing him, standing before her now was shocking. She had hoped that the night could have gone by without seeing him, as senseless as she knew it was. Of course she would have to meet him. After all, he had to show at least some respect to her, for the sake of their union, even if it was still a secret. This did not stop her from hoping, and her wishing had not paid off, for now here he was standing before her.

When he spoke in his soft, low, haunting voice, Rose felt chills throughout her body, and her heart stirred and beat a little faster. Duke Westley almost had a soothing power over her, for the minute words came from his mouth, Rose’s initial fears and worries melted. But why did her heart pound so? Rose knew that she was not in love with her fiancé. How could she be when she barely knew him? However, she could not help but consider this possibility. It was almost a childish desire. She wished with all her heart she did love him. That would certainly make the marriage easier on her and fulfill her dreams, at least partly. For it to be fully complete, he would have to return that love. But could she, and did she harbor such feelings toward this man before her? As she watched him bow with such elegance, and kiss her hand, her body became warm to the touch, and when he lifted his head after his kiss, she could still feel the touch of his lips linger on her hand, as hot as coal. In amazement she looked down at her hand, not believing what she felt.

Once more the question arose. Did she harbor love toward Duke Wesltey? What was love? Rose could only define it by the books she had read. Love, for those heroines had been a deep passion, to where one could not live without the other. It was when they could not cease to think of the other. It was when their heart pounded at the very mention of their lover’s name. Did that describe her? Certainly not. True, she had thought of him often, but that was only to recollect on the pain she felt. She did not once, think that she could not live without him. In fact, Rose figured she would not mind if she had never met him at all, because then she would be in the mess. As far as her heart pounding at the very mention of his name, Rose could not recall if that ever occurred. She only knew that now, her heart almost felt like bursting. Was it merely the awkwardness of the situation that caused this? Rose could only think so, for she could only conclude that her feelings for Duke Westley did not go as far as love. She had respect for him, being her future husband, but he was not a man she could picture living her entire life with.

No, Rose was not in love with Duke Westley. Rose could only feel disappointment at this conclusion. If she had the choice now, to fall in love with anyone, it would be him. All her being wished to love him, but that was not possible. If she had a chance to alter her life, she would probably reverse her parent’s death. Maybe then, a marriage would not be necessary, and she would not be engaged to him. Either way, Rose came to realize she had not power over the situation. This saddened her greatly but remembering that Duke Westley stood before her, she did her best not to let her disappointment show. She gave a soft smile and bowed her head.

“Good Evening, Duke Westley. “ Rose replied, “I must say that the trip was quite delightful. I enjoyed being able to see the countryside, and passing through each duchy. I have not had a chance to travel that often, and so, I was very pleased to hear of this event.”

Indeed, Rose had been quite ecstatic to hear of this trip. She longed to visit other places of importance, and meet other people. This was a wonderful chance to do so, and to get a taste of the culture of other Duchies. It delighted her to no end, to finally be able to travel. For so long, she had been cooped up in Ashton, being told that it was not the right time to travel, and that her sister would accompany her when the time was right. Of course, that time never came until her presence was requested at this Pemberton ball.

“And what about you?” Rose asked. “Did you find your trip quite agreeable?”

The expressions to dash over Lady Rochester's face ran the gamut from contemplation to surprise, it seemed. It never ceased to amuse Westley when such things happened to anyone. He was quite pleased with ability to read people so easily, especially when they were as young as Lady Rochester. As soon as those expressions took to her face, however, they were gone, and she was speaking. Her voice had a lovely tone, he noticed subconsciously, much like someone talented in singing. She'd told him that she could sing, correct? Yes...he could remember that. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he would ever get to hear her, but pushed it to the back of his mind. It wouldn't do him any good, especially if she had as lovely a voice as it sounded. No doubt she'd have some sort of influence over him if she wished...and that didn't sit well with him at all. If she happened to tell her sister exactly what a lovely song could do to him, he could find himself in danger from the blonde. No, he could only pray that he would never hear if Lady Rochester could sing unless she somehow happened to be absolutely horrid. It could only lead to him losing his head, and he didn't need such a thing happening when he had only just begun to silently plot once more. Pushing his mind from that subject, he focused solely on what Lady Rochester was saying to him. While she seemed like a girl who didn't like confrontation, it wouldn't do him any good if he missed what she was saying and it happened to be important.


Hadn't had the chance to travel very often, eh? He subconsciously thought to himself that he'd have to change such a thing, especially when the two of them were wed. She'd no doubt prove an interesting companion to have if he was ever called to another duchy due to political business. Before he could begin wondering about more awkward things and wonder about why he was wondering about them, such as if he should arrange some sort of trip around the duchies after they were wed just so that she would have an excuse to travel, he mentally shook his head to rid himself from such thoughts. You sound like a lovestruck schoolboy, Westley. He was not in love and he was not a boy. It was ridiculous. He would never be in love, of course, as it was merely a foolish notion told to allow children to drift off to quiet sleep. And he was a man, and a great one at that. If there was someone who didn't realize that, he would have to do something to change that in the later years. Later years...how many later years would he have? His thirty-sixth birthday was approaching in autumn, and very few people these days lived to be over fifty. It was a sober thought for him to have, especially when he didn't have an heir to carry on his immediate bloodline. The ring that rested inside the box on top of his chest, however, came to him suddenly, and his eyes grew a little warmer. That would change in time.


Keep your head on straight, Westley. Now was certainly not a grand time to be thinking of that. Instead, ignoring the warmth that spread through his veins, he nodded faintly to her question. "Agreeable, indeed." His voice was soft again, as he was still struggling to pull his mind back to more pious thoughts. "Ran into a spot of rain through Marcheford, but ultimately, very lovely. Ashton is beautiful this time of year." He watched her then, waiting to see if she'd have any sort of reaction. She'd have to leave Ashton sooner than she planned if the plan forming in Westley's mind came to fruition. He wished for her to spend a bit of time in Harleston before the two of them actually wed, but he hadn't quite found a good time to invite her there. He knew that Ashton was planning some sort of celebration, though the details escaped him, and that Lady Rochester would no doubt wish to remain there for it. However, when would that occur? Agh. Too much to think about for one evening. The band chose that moment to end one song and strike up another, this one a fairly popular waltz. He glanced toward the band, almost in gratitude as it meant that he wouldn't have to continue attempting to analyze this girl, before looking down at her once again.


"I do not recall you ever telling me that you enjoyed dancing, Lady Rochester, but pray, would you grant me the pleasure of one?" The words sounded rather charming, even to himself, Westley noted happily. He didn't wish to seem like some sort of uncultured barbarian that would scare the poor girl off, after all, and having a charming voice and words would no doubt help to sooth any of her nerves. That she even could be nervous around him still surprised him as many ladies seemed to be altogether calm around him, but he didn't wish to take the chance that she was and terrify her. Extending a single hand, he lifted his eyebrow in question and offered her a very small smile, one supposed to calm her even further.

As Rose looked at Duke Westley she sensed he was, but it had been so faint and disappeared so quickly, she began to wonder if she had sensed it at all. A curiosity now filled her, wondering what it was that caused a slight distant look in his eyes. Was he thinking of her, his family, or the Pemberton ball? Rose could not tell. She suddenly saw determination in his eyes, something she had never seen. Despite this, he seemed attentive enough, though, and Rose decided that she would ignore it as he opened his own mouth to speak.

It was a genuine satisfaction that filled Rose upon hearing that he had an agreeable journey. She did not hate him so much as to not care about his journey. She did have respect for him, as she should, but respect simply wasn’t enough for her. She wanted the marriage to be founded on love, but instead politics had joined them two together. Rose knew that respect alone would not make a good marriage. They couple would get to a point where, they would no longer wish to see each other, and then it would e almost like she was not married, though still bound and unable to seek the love she desired. Was that where her marriage was headed even before the vows were said? Was there anything she could do to stop it? Rose could not tell, for she knew she was only one woman. She could not make Westey fall in love with her, and she could not force herself to fall in love with Westley. It was beyond her power.

As she looked into his eyes, with almost a blank stare, she noticed in back of her mind that the music had stopped, and Westley had turned his head. Rose did not think anything of it, her mind still occupied with her thoughts of the future marriage. When the music started up again, Wesltey once more looked at her. Rose almost wanted to laugh, when he had mentioned that she had never said if she like to dance or not. If this was evidence of how their marriage would be like, Rose did not know what extremes she would take. She could only hang on to the hope that they would truly get to know each other during their marriage. After all, they would have years to have that happen. The only question was if Westley would be willing. What kind of husband would he make? Would he try to make the marriage work, or would he simply ignore he, not giving any chance to spend time her? Rose could not tell, but she could not help but hope that would not come true.

However, despite all these thoughts entering Rose’s mind, she could not help but feel pleased that he asked her to dance. She was indeed one who loved to dance, especially if she was not the only one. She hated to be the center of attention, and dancing in the crowd did not bring any sort of attention to her. Her romantic heart tended her to imagine fantasies that books had painted in her mind. She had not danced much, but every time, she imagined the man to be her prince charming, and enjoyed each experience. In fact, she recalled how excited she heard of the Pemberton ball, for it was an opportunity to dance. With a warm and pleasant smile Rose responded, noticing how eloquent his voice sounded. It was not harsh and did not have it’s haunting tone. Instead, it had a pleasant and inviting sound to it, that rose could not think to do anything but to accept his offer.

“Indeed, I do love to dance,” Rose answered. “In time, I hope that such things will be almost second nature, considering how our lives will be joined.” Rose said, not wishing to speak out right about her engagement with him, for she feared others might overhear. She was sure, Duke Wesltey knew what she meant, though.” Rose gave a pause and then continued a few seconds later. “But I would gladly accept your offer.” With that said, Rose reached out to Westley’s extended and held it awaiting to be lead down to the floor.