Chapter Text
It was the night of the Bacchanalia Festival and Rose was attending with her parents Lord and Lady Tyler. Bacchanalia was an evening of decadence, people in posh costumes and masks, the more outrageous the better. This particular party was for the wealthy and titled of which Rose's family was both. The particular Lord hosting the night's party was the notorious Jack Harkness.
He was the sole heir of his parent's title and wealth and enjoyed all the benefits such things provided. Gorgeous, with raven black hair and eyes so blue, many a fair lady or lord for that matter had been enchanted and fallen not just into his arms, but his bed as well. The scandal didn't bother him and the more scandalous the better if what Rose had heard was true.
Lord Harkness was hosting the party in his family's home, a castle on the outskirts of Kasterborous, the capital of their world and the centre of politics, commerce, arts and all things decadent. The castle had been in the Harkness family for centuries and was almost considered a planetary monument to what could be accomplished with a bit of perseverance and creativity. It was immense and sat on the highest hill outside of Katsterborous, constructed of dark grey stone with high walls surrounding a courtyard and the main house with turrets extending skyward. The night of Bacchanalia, it was lit up with purple lights with acrobats dressed in skin tight, jewel tone costumes or nude with sparkling body paint performed in the courtyard alongside musicians and fire eaters. It was all about fantasy and embracing the heart of Bacchanalia, joyous celebration of a fruitful harvest, life, love and all things decadent.
Inside, was room after room filled with people dressed in costumes of various sorts and colours. Rose saw ladies dressed in gossamer, sparkling gowns with butterfly or fairy wings, in short skirted dresses with layer upon layer of colourful fabrics with corsets coffered in plumes of iridescent feathers making them look like long legged birds, some swan like and others like fiery phoenix. The men were dressed just as outrageously, some with tight stripped trousers with long coats exposing their toned or in some cases not so toned chests, decorated with layers of colourful beads and others like fanciful jesters or great horned beasts with gold, silver or green finery mimicking whatever animal or character they chose.
Lord and Lady Tyler chose conservative looks of a dashing masked bandit and his pink butterfly wife. Rose had chuckled a bit at the pair of them but then she supposed she was no better dressed as a water nymph, her corseted gown made of layers of blue and green fabrics of various shades meant to mimic water and accented with silver ribbon. Her hair was a riot of teased out curls studded with jewels and silver seashells with her mask, sparkling sapphire blue and silver. Although it revealed a tease of bosom and her gown fell away in cleverly pinned draping down the middle from her waist to reveal a glimpse of her legs, it was still far more conservative than most and her mother has approved with only minimal comments.
The party was in full swing when they arrived. The rooms were dimly lit with sparkling chandeliers with oil lamps and candles on the walls and tables. Glitter seemed to coat everything as acrobats swung from the ceiling, shouting and sprinkling yet more of the sparkly stuff over the crowd. There were musicians in several of the rooms playing festive music and some people were dancing. Most were huddled in groups drinking, laughing and talking. A few couples had found a darkened corner or alcove to become more intimately acquainted. Food and wine flowed with abundance.
This was Rose's first Bacchanalia. Although she was twenty one, she had avoided attending and she suspected it was much to her father's relief. Many a young lady had found herself involved in bawdy or licentious situations at these events. It was often said that one left Bacchanalia a different person than one entered it. Rose was sure her father didn't want to think about how Bacchanalia might change her. He made no effort to hide his affection for his daughter nor how much he wanted what was best for her. Seeing her dressed up in her sea nymph gown, had made him acknowledge she was a young woman and an unmarried one at that. Her mother, on the other hand, was more than willing to shove her daughter out into the crowd, hoping to catch the eye of some eligible lord. In her mind, it was high time her daughter was married. Unlike her father who was adamant about her education, her mother wanted her settled in a home with a supportive husband.
Her mother was not against her education, she just wanted to assure Rose could find a suitable match before, as she said it, younger and more dowry rich young women came along to swipe up all the rich and handsome lords. Rose had chuckled over this but after a few years at university and seeing her friends marry and leave, she began to see her mother's point. Thus, she agreed to attend Bacchanalia with her parents. Of course, attending Bacchanalia did not mean she had to stay with her parents and listen to her mother's attempts to match make whilst her father talked business.
Rose wandered away into the crowds, sipping her wine and taking it all in. It truly was a feast for the senses with the stunning home, extravagantly dressed party goers, music, scrumptious smelling food and just the pulse of the party in the air. She was approached by several men, some just looking for fun and others looking for a bit more intimate fun. She danced with a masked frog prince and a two faced lascivious older man with wandering hands before quickly making her way into another room.
This room was quieter but no less decadent and the people far more intimately acquainted with one another. It was darker, lit only with soft candle light and just as she was about to turn and leave, a man in a black and red costume with an elaborate black feathered mask with silver scroll work appeared. His black cape swirled about his jewelled, red and black shirt open at the collar to reveal a toned and tanned chest.
"My lady," he said with an amused tone and a exaggerated bow.
Rose smiled as he looked up at her, his blue eyes sparkling. She immediately knew who he was. If the over the top costume and handsome physique didn't give him away, the flirtatious look in his eyes did.
"Lord Harkness," Rose answered. She wasn't at all intimidated by him as she thought she would be. She had heard so many stories about his conquests and she had assumed he would be this overwhelming sexual presence but in fact, he was simply charming.
He looked disappointed for a moment and then leaned over with a bright smile. "Are you sure? Perhaps I'm just some dashing, suave lord attempting to deceive you into thinking I'm the utterly handsome and debonair lord."
Rose laughed heartily at this. "My lord, there could only be one Lord Harkness. His reputation is legendary."
He perked up at that and wrapped her arm through his, leading her over to a table where wine was being poured.
"Legendary! Oh tell me more including who you are my lovely water nymph and where have you been hiding." He reached for two tall glasses of a golden beverage and handed her one.
"Oh, I'm no one important really. I just arrived with my parents. It's sort of my first Bacchanalia."
"Noooo!," he said and looked her up and down. "That's a crime! And an honour for me. I get to pop your Bacchanalia cherry," he said lasciviously and with a wink.
Rose giggled and sipped her wine.
"So, who are you in the real world then? 'Cos, I need to know who I'm about to corrupt with my wicked little affair here," he said, gesturing to the party goers and in particular, a couple off to the side who were enjoying their own private party, one that involved nudity and lots of groping.
"Gawd, you really are just like they say," she said with a smile and then covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that as an insult. Please forgive me."
He laughed. "No worries. I'm flattered but now I insist to know you're name, dear lady, in recompense for my wounded reputation."
Rose laughed . "My name's Rose."
"Enchanted, Lady Rose," he said and bowed, still holding his wine in one hand. When he arose, he began walking her around the room, stopping to flirt here and there with his guests. He leaned over after telling her one very raunchy story about running naked down the streets of the capital after being caught in Lord Van Statten's daughter's bed. "So what was so riveting that it kept you from attending Bacchanalia before you most wisely decided to attend my party?"
She sipped her wine. "School mainly and well, I'm not big on parties like this. Don't get me wrong, I love a nice party but usually my parents spend their time trying to marry me off or displaying me like some prize cattle or something. It's not really my idea of fun."
He smiled. "Ahhh so you went off to school to avoid the endless boring parties and stream of mundane and stodgy lords on the matrimony hunt."
"I don't know if streaming is the right word. I'm not exactly what most noblemen are looking for. I'm a bit outspoken and not interested in social climbing or you know, spending my time battin' my eye lashes and sayin' pretty words."
Lord Harkness smiled. "Who says you have to? I think just being Lady Rose is enough and besides, the marriage market is over rated. You're young, go have fun for a while. There's no rush."
Rose enjoyed a bit more wine. "That's what I told my parents. I thought my mum was gonna have a fit! University's been fun though, except now all my friends are gettin' married and havin' babies and mum keeps sending me all the announcements. Even my Dad is startin' to make noise about finishing up school and making a good life choice."
"My dear lady, the best life choice you made was attending Bacchanalia! Stop worrying, enjoy! Life will sort itself out. You can't plan love. And tonight, is all about letting love and pleasure find you!"
"Ya know what? You're right! My parents can go sort out whoever they think 'll make a good husband. I'm just going to enjoy the night!" Rose agreed, feeling the effects of the wine and the party atmosphere thrum through her. She danced with Lord Harkness, drank more wine than she should have and enjoyed the sights and atmosphere. Eventually, she knew she needed a break and wandered off looking for a quiet place to recover.
She found her way down a hall heading away from the loud music and came across a door that was cracked upon leading to a room that appeared empty. She slipped inside and shut the door leaning against it for a moment with her eyes shut. After a moment, she looked around and found herself in a two story library. The scent of books and a fire burning in the fireplace enveloped her and she felt relaxed and at ease. She walked around the room with floor to ceiling shelves filled with various books. There was a spiral staircase to the second floor where yet more shelves lined the walls.
Conservative decorative rugs in muted colours lay over the dark wood floor and old brown leather sofas and chairs were placed around the room lending it an air of a gentlemen's study. It was so unlike flamboyant Lord Harkness she'd met earlier that Rose couldn't help but wonder who he was really. She would have expected something a little more modern with perhaps sculptures of nude men and women in compromising positions or an illicit painting or two. This quiet, tasteful room was something she'd expect her father would enjoy.
As she made her way around the room, trailing her fingers along the backs of the leather chairs, she paused at a book lying open on a table. She picked it up and laughed. It was erotica. She layed it back on the table shaking her head before walking around a sofa and collapsing onto it only to find it occupied.
"Do you mind?" an irritated voice said.
Rose jumped up and turned around startled. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was here."
"Well maybe you should have looked! Or are you so inebriated that your vision is that impaired?" a masked gentlemen who was lying on said sofa asked sarcastically.
Rose stilled and stood tall, her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Oi! It was quiet and away from the party and I needed a bit of a break. Why should I expect some …" she looked at him as he sat up. He was dressed as some type of huntsmen in tight, dark brown trousers, boots, a white and blue stripped buttoned up shirt with a fitted dark blue coat with gold buttons and detailing and topped it off with a black sparkly mask with elaborate deer antlers extending upward on each side. "What are you supposed to be anyway?"
He stood up, towering over her. "I'm the antithesis of the hunter, evidencing the dichotomy between hunter and stag," he snipped. "Not that I'd expect some blonde nymph to understand that or even the symbolism of your own costume."
Rose tilted her chin up and glared into the dark brown eyes of the man practically sneering down at her. "Why you arrogant prat! I'm a Naiad, not just some generic water nymph, a representation of the springs, lakes and rivers on our world, a protector of them. And what are you? A stag? That's a bit rich at Bacchanalia. Should have figured I couldn't find a moment of peace without some…horny bloke around," she shot back arching a brow at his mask.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" he said in a tight low voice, taking a step forward trying to intimidate her.
"Nope! And I don't care. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm sure you have some little doe girl waitin' on her stag to come hunt her down." Rose stepped around him and settled on the sofa, arranging her skirts around her as she curled up on one corner, fluffing a soft pillow to lay her head onto.
"What?" the man said in disbelief. "You…you can't just do that! Steal a man's sofa and bit of privacy! And I am not some hormonally driven symbolism of a male …"
"Do you mind?" Rose interrupted. "I just need some quiet and then I'll leave you to you're whatever it was you were doing and no, I really don't want to know," she said waiving her hand in the air.
The man stood there glowering at her. He let out a sigh and Rose felt the sofa jolt as he sat down next to her.
She sat up and looked at him. "Whadda are you doin?"
"I was here first and we can share," he informed her with a slightly less arrogant attitude.
"Fine," Rose murmured and settled down and closed her eyes. She was still a bit dizzy from the wine and dancing.
"I don't understand why you're here?" the man continued. "A pretty girl like you should be out flirting and dancing."
Rose rubbed her temples and sighed as she sat up and directed a glare at him. "Look, can you just not talk?"
"No," he answered pointedly and with a smirk. "And not until I know why you wandered in here. How do I know you're not after my…antlers?" he asked with a cheeky smile.
Rose wrinkled up her face. "First off, ewww no." He looked offended at her response.
She continued. "Second, that is like the worst pick up line ever. And I am here because I want quiet. I had a bit too much wine and need to clear my head. I did not come here to stalk some deer bloke, yeah. Can we both just enjoy being away from all the partying and drinking."
"I suppose," he drawled, looking at her speculatively. "But that still doesn't explain why you're here, alone and ohhhhh you're not hiding from someone are you? There's not some jealous boy out there about to burst in and challenge me to some duel for sitting next to you?" he accused.
"Oh my gawd! Will you shut up?" she asked, rolling her eyes. He glared at her.
Rose was still inebriated and it was impairing her judgement. Her mouth got the better of her. "No, there is no bloke and there's not gonna be from out there. As if I would run off into some room in a strange house and shag a stranger! My parents are out there and…" Then, in Rose's wine addled mind a picture formed of her parents in some room and a story someone told her echoed, a story of how she was conceived…
"Ohhhhh no! My parents are out there and they're… I can't think about it!" She grabbed the pillow and covered her head. "This is horrible," she said in a muffled voice and then pulled the pillow off and glared at the stranger. "This is all your fault! You made me think of my parents out there doing…stuff like Bacchanalia stuff and oh I just can't." The pillow covered her head again.
The stranger snatched it from her grasp and tossed it aside. "You're here with your parents?" he asked, in a tone mixed with accusation and amusement.
Rose was still too flummoxed thinking about how her parents went to this event every year and how bits and pieces of a conversation she'd heard about her Mum, Bacchanalia and Rose's birth nine months later formed in her mind. It was disturbing to say the least. Finally she looked at the man, brown eyes sparkling in his mask.
"Yeah, what of it? It's not like I'd come to a thing like this on my own and besides, it made mum happy so she could go do her matchmaking thing, at least, before I escaped."
"Matchmaking?" he snorted and looked her up and down. "I wouldn't think that would be a problem for a lady of your…stature," he finally said, pausing as he stared at her corseted breasts.
Rose sat up, angry. "Now see here, I'm not some silly, marriage obsessed lady. I'm an educated woman who can do more than just throw parties and produce heirs. I've got a brain you know!"
He laughed. "A lady with a brain who wants something more than birthing a great dynasty! Shout out the news! It's a miracle," he said with a biting tone. "And yet you are here with marriage minded parents."
"It's just to make them happy and well, I've never been to a Bacchanalia. I was a little curious," she explained and focused on a bit of her dress and fluffing out her skirt.
"Never?" he asked, sounding surprised.
She sighed. "Why does everyone ask that like it's some shocking revelation?" She rolled her head over to him. "Look, I was in school studying. This wasn't a priority."
"And it is now?" he asked, leaning back, stretching out his long lean frame. Rose took a moment to examine him, after all he was questioning her so she was entitled. She supposed he would be considered very handsome in an arrogant git kind of way. He was tall, lithe but muscular if the tight trousers and shirt were any indication. His eyes were brown and piercing and his hair was more than a bit nice. She wondered how many women had run their fingers through his tousled chestnut locks. It certainly looked like a few may have done so already that night based on the condition of it.
She curled up against the arm of the sofa and looked at him. "Not necessarily a priority except it's important to my parents. I think they want me settled so they can focus on my brother, him being the heir to the family fortune and all. My mum thinks I'm too old already and all the good blokes are taken and I suppose her going to lunch with all her friends whose daughters are married and havin' babies doesn't help. I mean, she loves me and I know she's proud of my grades and degree and all but deep down, she just wants to throw a wedding and for me to fit in. And, I've never been to one of these things. It's part of life here, yeah? Why not and it is Lord Harkness who's hosting it. Sounded like the penultimate Bacchanalia celebration to go to." She looked over at him staring at her. "What? Like you're one to talk! You're here too!"
"Lord Harkness is a friend and this isn't my first Bacchanalia."
Rose wasn't sure what to think and then it hit her. She was half pissed, sitting in some room alone with some unpleasant Lord interrogating her. This was not a good idea but then the whole party was a bad idea. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to leave, run and never look back. She looked off at the fire and worked up her courage to go out and face the crowds and tell her parents she was leaving. She winced at that and hoped they weren't off doing something she didn't want to think about.
She made to stand up and tumbled back down and cursed. "Look, I'm sorry I interrupted your privacy. I just need to get out of here."
"Stay, you're in no condition to be out there. You can barely stand up straight," he said, watching her and then glanced at the book shelves. "If you're bored there's plenty to read. You did say you were educated."
Rose felt her temper rise again. "I'm fine, it's this dress that's causing me a bit of grief."
"Right," he said dryly. "It's the dress and not all the potent wine and cocktails Harkness has been feeding you."
She stood up and steadied herself. "I didn't have that much," she defended and wobbled a little. And I'm not sure I want to read the types of books Lord Harkness has in here," she said suspiciously eyeing the book shelves.
Her mysterious Lord laughed, jumped up, grabbed her hand and led her over to a corner of the library. "He does have a reputation for having the most complete collection of erotica on the planet but I promise his interests vary to other topics. What did you study at university?"
"Art and History. I'm sort of an artist or trying to be."
"Really?" he turned to her with interest. "What about the sciences?"
She shrugged. "Not my best subject."
"Oh, you just had the wrong teachers then. Here, come with me," he said enthusiastically and it was like he was a whole different person as he yanked a book off the shelf and led her over to another area of the library where he guided her onto a lounge chair. He lay next to her and hit a switch and the ceiling opened up to reveal the night sky.
He opened the book and began to read passages about the constellations, stars and the mythology associated with them. Rose found herself immersed in not just the information he was reciting, but the sound of his voice and how he lounged next to her gazing up at the stars, pointing upward and drawing diagrams with his long lean fingers. She smiled as she thought how she'd love to draw him. She turned to him suddenly. He paused and gazed into her eyes.
Rose smiled. "Thank you for this."
"For what? Not tossing you back out into the depravity and drunkenness of the party?" he teased.
"Yeah, that and for this, the stars and all. It's nice."
"Nice?" he asked in a tone indicating he wasn't impressed. "I'm not known for nice and the stars well, they're always there. You just have to look up."
She giggled then. "So you're not a nice bloke then? Figures. I go to Bacchanalia, meet the infamous Lord Harkness, get felt up by a bunch of really handsy lords who think I'm easy and then tuck myself away with Lord Grumpy, defender of deer," she said and trailed her fingers over the horns on his mask. "Terror of ladies everywhere, condescending git and expert on the stars."
He arched a brow and gently grasped her wrist and brought her hand to his lips where he laid a soft kiss. Rose felt her breath catch.
"I think, my lady, you missed a title…seducer of ladies inexperienced with Bacchanalia." His voice had a growling quality and Rose felt herself falling into the depths of his eyes, a black abyss that should terrify her but didn't. Rose felt drawn to him, her face moving closer to his. It was like the two of them were in some very private, secluded cocoon, separate and apart from the rest of the world. It was just them and an undefinable heat pulling them together under the stars.
She wasn't any blushing virgin and knew how easy it was to let passion rule ones head but this was Bacchanalia and this was probably why he was here. Rose didn't want to just be anyone's entertainment of the night, even someone as good looking and engaging as him. She blinked and pulled away slightly, smiling softly at him but noticed the hint of disappointment in his eyes. She cleared her throat and looked upward at the stars. "So…." Rose began to say.
He snapped the book shut with a thud and sighed. "I suppose you will be running off now," he said, the bite back in his voice.
"That depends," she answered.
"On what?" he snapped,
She paused and looked him over, her artist's gaze taking in every detail of him before looking back at his eyes which burned into hers. "If you let me draw you."
That seemed to throw him. He pulled back and looked at her speculatively. "You want to draw me…like this?" he asked, sweeping his hand down across his costume.
"Yeah, that a problem?"
"I'm wearing a mask and costume. You'd only be sketching some false image. Don't artists like to capture the true likeness of their subjects or is that just an illusion, you draw what you want to see instead," he asked with the slightest insult.
Rose sat up and reached over with a two fingers tilted his chin up, feeling the slight scruff beginning to emerge that reminded her of his outward abrasive attitude. "It is an artist's job, my lord, to see beyond the mask, especially the one her subject wears every day so I doubt you wearing something a bit more elaborate will make it any harder for me to capture you. So you gonna let me sketch you are you gonna toss that book at me."
He looked down at the book in his hands and tossed it aside. He lounged down on his side, his gaze challenging. "Go on, artist, let's see what you've got."
Rose smiled a tongue teasing smile. "Challenge accepted. Don't move!" Rose went on a search for paper and pen or pencil when he directed her to a desk. She made a happy hum when she found a pad of paper and some pencils. She walked back, moved some lamps near him and when satisfied sat down, not caring that her dress had hitched up giving him a good look at her legs. In fact, she completely missed the steamy looks he directed at her, so intent was she on sketching him.
As she worked, he asked her more about her family. Rose was vague, too intent on her capturing her subject. She asked him if he was married or engaged only to be met with stony silence.
She paused and arched a brow at him to find a glare directed at her. "Fine," she answered. "No personal questions allowed. This is Bacchanalia, it's all about fantasy anyway so I'll just have to go with what I know about you."
"And what do you know about me?" he snapped.
She smiled and sketched. "You're smart, brilliant really. You know your mythology, about astronomy and the stars. You mentioned traveling off world and ships so I could guess you know about engineering too. She paused again gazing at him. "Your eyes, they say so much."
"What do they say?" he asked, his voice gruff but he was gazing at her intently..
Rose looked directly into the depths of the objects of their discussion and he shivered. She continued her study before responding. "That you're tired of people disappointing you, that you've known pain and sadness; and that you still want to believe in something but you don't know what."
He snorted and shook himself out of whatever had captivated him. "All that from a couple of hours looking at me through this mask?"
She smiled. "You're titled, wealthy and used to people being intimidated by you when you unleash the storm brewing inside." Rose continued whilst she sketched. "I annoyed you because I interrupted your private little pity party in here or maybe it was your refuge against all the goings on outside. Alll those people embracing the decadence, the ostentatious trappings of privileged society and pretending that there aren't problems and troubles in our world that need attending to. You don't like that, how people try and cajole and play up to you, persuade you to do something or give them something they want. You're like this lonely god, here looking down but don't want to be touched by any of it. It's beneath you."
"I never said that!" he shouted furiously, sitting up, breathing hard and his fists clenched.
Rose paused and shot him an annoyed look. "Ya know, it would help if you stayed still."
"Well it might help if you stopped accusing me of being…"
"A condescending pain in the arse who tried to toss me out for just looking for a quiet place? Seriously? You act like this was your own personal space and it's not even your house."
He settled down. "I was fine until you blonded in," he replied darkly.
"Yeah, it's all on me isn't it. Blame the lady who just wanted a place to rest from all the drinking and carousing. Clearly, I'm a trouble maker."
"I'll bet you are," he said, the twinkle back in his eyes as he took his time gazing at her, all of her. "You wandered away from your parents and found yourself in a boat load of trouble. Tell me Lady Artist, you do this at school too?"
Rose ignored him, the lead flying across the page as she sketched. "I am sorry if I touched a sore spot earlier about your being single," she finally said. "I hate it when people ask me why I'm not married and then give me those pitying looks."
"How do you know I'm single?" he retorted. "Maybe I'm married and off looking for a little fun or maybe this is my last fling before marriage."
Rose raised her eyebrows and sketched onward.
"I admire you," he revealed. "You want more out of life and you went for it, followed your dreams. You didn't sacrifice what you wanted to meet some societal expectations. That took courage. I don't encounter many ladies who have that sort of determination and inner strength. If you intend on marrying, you should make sure it's someone who appreciates those qualities and respects you. Most of that lot out there at the party and in the city for that matter, they won't."
Rose paused and took a deep breath. His observation had hit a nerve but then she'd hit several of his as well. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you know marriage is about compromise. Everyone gives up something. You're right, whoever I end up with probably won't be too keen on his wife working as an artist." She shrugged. "I'm expected to marry and if I don't choose soon, a choice will be made for me. My family will pay the price if I don't and I can't do anything to jeopardize my brother's future like the scandal of me turning my back on my family's wishes or running off to some artist colony to try and make a living. Our society isn't very forgiving that way."
"It's not fair," he stated.
"No, but I'm lucky. I have a family that loves me and parents that allowed me to go off to university and study what I love. We're fortunate that we've done well, we still have my Dad's family estate, maybe not the wealthiest around but Dad does well and Mum throws a mean tea party so she's pretty popular. Lots of people don't have that, can't go to university or they barely make a living. I can't complain 'cos I have to marry and can't have everything I want."
He looked off across the room, lost in thought. A silence fell over them both seemingly lost in their own private worlds and yet, it wasn't uncomfortable.
Suddenly he spoke. "I'm alone. My family is gone and I'm supposed to keep what's left, my heritage going, preserve the name, care for the people that served my family. It's my responsibility. I'm tethered to it, it binds me so tight I think I can't breathe. Every day, is the same, get up, make decisions that impact not just my life but so many more. The fate of so many tied to me and I…" His voice cracked. "What if I'm wrong, make a mistake? I hate it!" he said, his voice filled with anger. "Every day, I hear from lords marketing their daughters, attempting to bribe me with pretty smiles and soft sweet voices or worse. One…I thought, well, I thought she would be suitable, be a partner."
He let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, she wanted to be partner all right. Wanted my accounts, my mother's jewellery, the status, the parties and to manipulate me. She even claimed she was pregnant. It was a lie I soon uncovered. Oh, she was clever, sophisticated and accomplished but she was interested in making a statement, of status, not me or what I cared about."
"So you stopped trusting anyone after that," Rose stated, her eyes focused on her sketch.
"All ladies want something. Marriage is game, Lady Artist, nothing more and one you will play one day. Even you, you want something, freedom, you'll pay the price for it. You'll sacrifice your dreams and bow down to a husband to give him what he wants and what will you get? Freedom and yet still in bondage to a husband who probably won't love you or care what you want as long as your not an nuisance to him or get in his way. It will leave you cold, alone and bitter with only your artwork to keep you company. I suppose at least you'll have that instead of shopping and shallow parties to fill your time."
Rose swallowed hard. He was a bitter and angry man but there was some truth to what he said. She looked up at him, her eyes wet with unshed tears. His face softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… It's just you deserve more. If you claim to have learned so much about me in this short time, I have come to know you and I can see…"
The door burst open and a very drunken Lord Harkness staggered into the room with a young couple, the three of them snogging and groping. Lord Harkness looked up at the startled Rose and her angst ridden Lord.
"Oh sorry," he said and smiled as he looked at them. "Didn't mean to interrupt the fun in the library and can I just say, the two of you look…"
"I was just leaving," Rose interrupted and shoved the sketch at her mysterious Lord as she almost ran out.
"Wait! You didn't tell me you name!"
Rose paused and looked back at him. A sad smile on her face. "You didn't tell me yours either."
"What him?" Lord Harkness asked and stumbled a bit and laughed. "Gorgeous, that is none other than Lord Theta, the most eligible bachelor on the planet, other than me that is. Although, I'm much more fun!" he explained with a wink.
She paused in the doorway and understood why he had been so ill tempered. She knew all about Lord Theta, his temper was legendary as was his ability to cut any lady to the quick.
"Thanks for letting me draw you, Lord Theta. I hope…I hope you find some happiness somewhere. Life's too short to let yourself not have hope." With that she turned and dashed out of the room, weaving her way through the crowd heading for the courtyard where she ran into her father.
"Rose, what is it?" he asked concerned.
"Nothing, it's nothing. I …I just need to go. I'll see you at home."
Rose ran out of the party and found transport home, the whole way thinking about Lord Theta, of his penetrating eyes, of feeling the warmth of him next to her whilst stargazing and the sound of his voice as he told her about the stars. She looked out the window of her hover carriage, staring up at those same stars but it was different. He had made it different.
His bitter words echoed in her mind like sharpened blades slashing through the pretty picture she had painted of her future. A cold feeling seeped through her and she realized something had changed her at Bacchanalia. She'd often heard people say you were never the same and she understood now. It wasn't the wine or the festivities. It was the revelation she'd found in a library with a bitter and scarred Lord and how he'd made her feel. No one had ever cut her so deep and filled her with such warmth at the same time. Tears coursed down her cheeks as the impact of that one encounter and embedded itself in her heart. She sat back in the darkness and realized in one night, her life had changed forever.