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I'll be posting as soon as power lines are restored in our area. Sorry. .. :(
The warmth of the bowl nestled in her hands was very comforting that she was debating with herself whether to finish the soup or to just hold on to its warmth until the cold of the mountain took it from her. “I was afraid he would stay and ask you to leave,” she said, still staring into the thick liquid inside the bowl. “It doesn’t matter that you might be wrong, I am doomed if both he and you share the same thoughts about me.” She lifted her head to find him chewing on the bread, watching her. Who could he have been if he were not an orphan of Cannor and how come he knew so much about the past? He was different somehow. Perhaps more clever and observing than the others, or maybe he was just too superstitious.
Ysabel lifted the wooden bowl to her lips and savored the feeling of warmth traveling down her throat until it settled in her stomach and she wondered how long until she felt such warmth again. There was no fireplace in her room to warm it and there would be no fire to comfort her once she was out of the walls of Cannor, not unless she wished herself discovered if any of the orphans had the mind to go after her.
She put the bowl down on the bed. “And what about you? What happens when they find out that I am missing? Derrin knows you are watching over me.” Again, it was none of her business. He was just a stranger who had made a decision to help her get out of Cannor, she should be thankful and not one to make him think twice about his decisions in life. “Why don’t you just come with me?” Ysabel asked, getting up so she towered over his sitting form. The corners of her lips tugged up so she was looking down at him with a small, wicked smile on her face. “If what you believe is correct and the gods have returned, then I shall be made queen. And as for you, I shall appoint you to a position – any position you wish – and grant you lands and castles. Come on, we better leave, before some more of your brothers decided to visit us.”
The hall outside the room was made of the same gray stones laid out on top of each other. There were no windows where the cold might enter, but the wall opposite the door was lined with evenly spaced torches. Because no light could enter, the torches were lit no matter what time of the day it was. Time would be hard to guess inside the keep, but the flickering flame from the torches was more warmth than the gas lamp and candles that lit her room.
She let Roran lead her through the maze of halls, occasionally stopping to check if the next hallway was clear. It might not be easy to guess the time, but Ysabel imagined it was still dark outside and dawn might be a couple of hours yet. She deduced this from the quiet and the lack of men loitering in the area. Roran was right, this would be easier than when most of his brothers were awake.
Their first stop was to steal some food. Her back was pressed against the wall beside what she guessed was the kitchen door. It must either be the thin air or fatigue, because she was catching her breath and her limbs specifically felt very tired. For a few moments that she treasured, they listened in the silence, waiting for a sound to betray a person in the kitchen, but there was none. “The cook might have gone to bed,” she whispered.
Ysabel lifted the wooden bowl to her lips and savored the feeling of warmth traveling down her throat until it settled in her stomach and she wondered how long until she felt such warmth again. There was no fireplace in her room to warm it and there would be no fire to comfort her once she was out of the walls of Cannor, not unless she wished herself discovered if any of the orphans had the mind to go after her.
She put the bowl down on the bed. “And what about you? What happens when they find out that I am missing? Derrin knows you are watching over me.” Again, it was none of her business. He was just a stranger who had made a decision to help her get out of Cannor, she should be thankful and not one to make him think twice about his decisions in life. “Why don’t you just come with me?” Ysabel asked, getting up so she towered over his sitting form. The corners of her lips tugged up so she was looking down at him with a small, wicked smile on her face. “If what you believe is correct and the gods have returned, then I shall be made queen. And as for you, I shall appoint you to a position – any position you wish – and grant you lands and castles. Come on, we better leave, before some more of your brothers decided to visit us.”
The hall outside the room was made of the same gray stones laid out on top of each other. There were no windows where the cold might enter, but the wall opposite the door was lined with evenly spaced torches. Because no light could enter, the torches were lit no matter what time of the day it was. Time would be hard to guess inside the keep, but the flickering flame from the torches was more warmth than the gas lamp and candles that lit her room.
She let Roran lead her through the maze of halls, occasionally stopping to check if the next hallway was clear. It might not be easy to guess the time, but Ysabel imagined it was still dark outside and dawn might be a couple of hours yet. She deduced this from the quiet and the lack of men loitering in the area. Roran was right, this would be easier than when most of his brothers were awake.
Their first stop was to steal some food. Her back was pressed against the wall beside what she guessed was the kitchen door. It must either be the thin air or fatigue, because she was catching her breath and her limbs specifically felt very tired. For a few moments that she treasured, they listened in the silence, waiting for a sound to betray a person in the kitchen, but there was none. “The cook might have gone to bed,” she whispered.
Her eyes moved from one man to the other, from Derrin’s authority to Roran’s quiet submission, until finally it rested on the food. It was just bread and soup and a cup of water, but she was not in a position to complain. In fact, she was thankful that they were at least feeding her.
“If you say so, Roran,” Derrin shrugged, but Ysabel noticed that he was studying her. When the healer left them, Ysabel was on the bed pretending to still be asleep, he took the liberty to remove her cloak and boots for her own comfort, because he thought she would be staying in bed. She would not be surprised if he thought it rather odd that upon his return, she was dressed and seemed prepared to move in the middle of the night.
“It is cold,” was her answer to what she supposed was Derrin’s question. “My cloak is warmer than the blanket and the boots warms my toes. I’ve no complain about your home save that it is terribly cold. I cannot imagine how the lot of you can stand to live here.”
Derrin chuckled. His eyes followed her as she moved to the table to taste the soup. “Warm soup and good company, my dear. Am I right, Roran?”
“I mean, living amongst men and without the company of a lover.” Because the men of Cannor were sworn to have no other love than their duty to Andor, to keep watch of the mountains and keep the north safe. She waited for his response, and while doing so, she tore a piece of the bread only to drown it in the thick soup. Again, she was not in the position to complain, and perhaps when the stomach was hungry, the brain agreed that everything was tasty. She took a bite, then another, then she added without looking at either of the men, “Of course you get by with one another. Cannor had stood for centuries against Horngul’s stubborn jabs. There must be a merit living with all men.”
“Such as the peace and quiet,” the older man conceded. Ysabel smiled up at him, but he was turning his back and was about to speak with Roran again. “Can you imagine how life will be living with a girl? Unlike you, I prefer sleep than sitting in a room with this one. Make sure no one bothers her.”
“Thank you for the meal, although a girl can do better than this.” She sipped from the rim of the bowl, relishing the warmth that settled into her stomach. Had it been only water, she would have been satisfied by it because of the warmth. “You can only imagine how delicious meals made by her are.”
“I would rest if I were you,” he answered without a trace of irritation in his voice. “You’ve a long day ahead of you tomorrow and I am pleased to see that you have recovered rather fast.”
Roran didn’t stand in his way when Derrin walked out of the door and left the room. The healer's statement hang in the air. It might be nothing, but her heart was hammering in her chest, because he sounded as if he knew. She waited for the door to close and for his footsteps to fade before calling Roran and offering him some of the food. “You must be as tired as I,” she said, tossing her half of the bread. “Come share it with me and then we can start running away.”
The sooner the better.
“If you say so, Roran,” Derrin shrugged, but Ysabel noticed that he was studying her. When the healer left them, Ysabel was on the bed pretending to still be asleep, he took the liberty to remove her cloak and boots for her own comfort, because he thought she would be staying in bed. She would not be surprised if he thought it rather odd that upon his return, she was dressed and seemed prepared to move in the middle of the night.
“It is cold,” was her answer to what she supposed was Derrin’s question. “My cloak is warmer than the blanket and the boots warms my toes. I’ve no complain about your home save that it is terribly cold. I cannot imagine how the lot of you can stand to live here.”
Derrin chuckled. His eyes followed her as she moved to the table to taste the soup. “Warm soup and good company, my dear. Am I right, Roran?”
“I mean, living amongst men and without the company of a lover.” Because the men of Cannor were sworn to have no other love than their duty to Andor, to keep watch of the mountains and keep the north safe. She waited for his response, and while doing so, she tore a piece of the bread only to drown it in the thick soup. Again, she was not in the position to complain, and perhaps when the stomach was hungry, the brain agreed that everything was tasty. She took a bite, then another, then she added without looking at either of the men, “Of course you get by with one another. Cannor had stood for centuries against Horngul’s stubborn jabs. There must be a merit living with all men.”
“Such as the peace and quiet,” the older man conceded. Ysabel smiled up at him, but he was turning his back and was about to speak with Roran again. “Can you imagine how life will be living with a girl? Unlike you, I prefer sleep than sitting in a room with this one. Make sure no one bothers her.”
“Thank you for the meal, although a girl can do better than this.” She sipped from the rim of the bowl, relishing the warmth that settled into her stomach. Had it been only water, she would have been satisfied by it because of the warmth. “You can only imagine how delicious meals made by her are.”
“I would rest if I were you,” he answered without a trace of irritation in his voice. “You’ve a long day ahead of you tomorrow and I am pleased to see that you have recovered rather fast.”
Roran didn’t stand in his way when Derrin walked out of the door and left the room. The healer's statement hang in the air. It might be nothing, but her heart was hammering in her chest, because he sounded as if he knew. She waited for the door to close and for his footsteps to fade before calling Roran and offering him some of the food. “You must be as tired as I,” she said, tossing her half of the bread. “Come share it with me and then we can start running away.”
The sooner the better.
Nick noticed the change in his wife when, for the second time in Greenwich, they came across Professor White. Perhaps he was just not the kind of people she liked, although Nick failed to find any fault in the way the professor had treated Claire so far. Nevertheless, Professor White would not be something that he would argue with her about, especially not after they started the day so very well. When she suggested to move along, Nick just nodded and bid his old friend good bye and boarded the ferry. The rest of their journey back home was quieter than he expected it to be, with Claire feeling seasick and all.
The rented carriage pulled up to the estate at almost lunch time. Unlike the day before, it was cloudy and the air smelled of the coming rain. Nick watched the reflection of branches of the trees on the pond as they swayed with the gentle breeze. Gray clouds were reflected there too, sailing the sky. It was a good thing they were back before the clouds wept.
The butler and a couple of maids greeted the couple when the carriage stopped. He went ahead of Claire, holding up his hand to assist her down. “Would you like me to leave you be with the doctor when we get inside? I have plenty to keep me busy with the ball this weekend. Or perhaps I can call for your father, if you’d like to speak with him?” she asked as soon as they were out.
Nick frowned, but his eyes were teasing. “You sound like you are in a hurry be get rid of me,” he said aloud, then leaning close so only she could hear, he whispered, “With the way you’ve been acting the whole morning, I am worried that I didn’t meet your expectations last night. Tell me honestly, did I not?” But there was a playful smile on his face when he looked ahead of them and placed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her inside.
“Robert, will you send a note to Doctor McQuerin? An apology, actually. I shall –“
“No need to bother, Mr. Rochford,” said the voice which was definitely the doctor’s. They were at the foyer then and he was walking from the sitting room on the first floor. He was sharply dressed as always, in black, except for his shirt and gray cravat. His hair, still black, though there were occasional grays, was carefully combed away from his face. By the way he was looking at Nick, the younger man guessed that he made the doctor wait long enough.
“Dr. McQuerin arrived early this morning for your appointment, after you missed yesterday’s,” supplied Robert, who was standing to his right. Nicholas didn’t need to hear it, and Francis McQuerin definitely didn’t need a reminder. “Your cousin also dropped by to check whether you have come home,” the butler added.
The doctor either did not to hear the other highlight of the morning, or that he had nothing to comment to it. He walked in quick, long strides towards them. Nick cleared his throat and said to Claire, “Perhaps it is a good idea to leave me with Dr. McQuerin, Claire. I shall see you in the dining area for lunch.” He patted her hand on his arm.
“My apologies, Mrs. Rochford, but I need to borrow your husband for a while, for his own good.” Then Dr. McQuerin turned his charming smile to Nick. “Nicholas, if you will please follow me to your room.”
*****
Later Nick found out that the wound needed to be closed again, and then violently disagreed when Dr. McQuerin suggested it to be cauterized to prevent future bleeding because of Nick’s foolishness. He also found out how harshly the doctor speaks. It might be because of his military background, but Nick sensed that the doctor just didn’t like stubborn patients.
“Have you spoken with my father as of late?” Nick asked after he was neatly bandaged and was leaning against the pillows.
The doctor, who was washing blood off his hands on a washbasin, looked over his shoulder at Nicholas. “No, I have not. The last we saw each other was when he called for me to tend to you on the night of your wedding day.”
Nick nodded and looked away. The doctor was not involved in their operation. Friend or not, he doubted Mr. Bennett would carelessly share information with this man. He might know that they were up to something, but he was not that well versed as to what it was. As if reading his thoughts, Dr. McQuerin said, “Even if we have had the chance to talk, your father will not be discussing business matters with me, you understand?”
“I know.” He reached for a fresh shirt, which was hanging at the back of a chair.
The doctor turned around and regarded her with one of those looks that made him feel like a boy again. “What are you doing?”
Nick shrugged and tugged on the shirt until it was free. “I am meeting Claire in the dining hall for lunch,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
McQuerin shook his head and sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid you are not, Mr. Rochford,” he said. “How soon do you want to be back in the field?”
He knew where the conversation was leading to, but Nick answered, “As soon as possible, of course. Not a day later than necessary.”
“Then you shall stay on that bed until I tell you it is safe to walk around. I shall order your lunch to be served here instead.”
The rented carriage pulled up to the estate at almost lunch time. Unlike the day before, it was cloudy and the air smelled of the coming rain. Nick watched the reflection of branches of the trees on the pond as they swayed with the gentle breeze. Gray clouds were reflected there too, sailing the sky. It was a good thing they were back before the clouds wept.
The butler and a couple of maids greeted the couple when the carriage stopped. He went ahead of Claire, holding up his hand to assist her down. “Would you like me to leave you be with the doctor when we get inside? I have plenty to keep me busy with the ball this weekend. Or perhaps I can call for your father, if you’d like to speak with him?” she asked as soon as they were out.
Nick frowned, but his eyes were teasing. “You sound like you are in a hurry be get rid of me,” he said aloud, then leaning close so only she could hear, he whispered, “With the way you’ve been acting the whole morning, I am worried that I didn’t meet your expectations last night. Tell me honestly, did I not?” But there was a playful smile on his face when he looked ahead of them and placed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her inside.
“Robert, will you send a note to Doctor McQuerin? An apology, actually. I shall –“
“No need to bother, Mr. Rochford,” said the voice which was definitely the doctor’s. They were at the foyer then and he was walking from the sitting room on the first floor. He was sharply dressed as always, in black, except for his shirt and gray cravat. His hair, still black, though there were occasional grays, was carefully combed away from his face. By the way he was looking at Nick, the younger man guessed that he made the doctor wait long enough.
“Dr. McQuerin arrived early this morning for your appointment, after you missed yesterday’s,” supplied Robert, who was standing to his right. Nicholas didn’t need to hear it, and Francis McQuerin definitely didn’t need a reminder. “Your cousin also dropped by to check whether you have come home,” the butler added.
The doctor either did not to hear the other highlight of the morning, or that he had nothing to comment to it. He walked in quick, long strides towards them. Nick cleared his throat and said to Claire, “Perhaps it is a good idea to leave me with Dr. McQuerin, Claire. I shall see you in the dining area for lunch.” He patted her hand on his arm.
“My apologies, Mrs. Rochford, but I need to borrow your husband for a while, for his own good.” Then Dr. McQuerin turned his charming smile to Nick. “Nicholas, if you will please follow me to your room.”
*****
Later Nick found out that the wound needed to be closed again, and then violently disagreed when Dr. McQuerin suggested it to be cauterized to prevent future bleeding because of Nick’s foolishness. He also found out how harshly the doctor speaks. It might be because of his military background, but Nick sensed that the doctor just didn’t like stubborn patients.
“Have you spoken with my father as of late?” Nick asked after he was neatly bandaged and was leaning against the pillows.
The doctor, who was washing blood off his hands on a washbasin, looked over his shoulder at Nicholas. “No, I have not. The last we saw each other was when he called for me to tend to you on the night of your wedding day.”
Nick nodded and looked away. The doctor was not involved in their operation. Friend or not, he doubted Mr. Bennett would carelessly share information with this man. He might know that they were up to something, but he was not that well versed as to what it was. As if reading his thoughts, Dr. McQuerin said, “Even if we have had the chance to talk, your father will not be discussing business matters with me, you understand?”
“I know.” He reached for a fresh shirt, which was hanging at the back of a chair.
The doctor turned around and regarded her with one of those looks that made him feel like a boy again. “What are you doing?”
Nick shrugged and tugged on the shirt until it was free. “I am meeting Claire in the dining hall for lunch,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
McQuerin shook his head and sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid you are not, Mr. Rochford,” he said. “How soon do you want to be back in the field?”
He knew where the conversation was leading to, but Nick answered, “As soon as possible, of course. Not a day later than necessary.”
“Then you shall stay on that bed until I tell you it is safe to walk around. I shall order your lunch to be served here instead.”
I think you used your sister's account. :D
Yup :) But can he not admit right away that he's a spy so he can turn into a double agent without her knowing it?
The answer she received was not what she had in mind. Ysabel had always known that she was different even before her unique talent manifested, but what he told her was just unbelievable she had to put an effort not to laugh. And yet, part of her wanted to believe what he said, if only because she had no idea why she was different, but the gods were dead. The kings and queens who built Andor, Horngul, and their neighbors were as dead as the gods. This was a new age, where magic did not exist.
Still, she was different.
The man who bought her from her parents was named Adranus. He was a man of questionable character, who ran his little criminal empire in the heart of Bolavo. He was also the man who raised Ysabel to believing that it was for her good that she kept her talent a secret and refrain from asking questions about it.
Stories of gods’ kings and queens were not very popular in Horngul. She had heard some, but as a rational adult, didn’t take it into heart. Now, this man was implying that she might just be one of the legendary people who ruled the continent.
She let her hand fall to her side and kept her face a blank mask protecting her emotions. “The gods are dead,” she whispered with less conviction that she would have wanted. What he told her was impossible. She needed to get out of the fortress to protect her secret and prevent these people from turning her into a slave as Adranus had once warned her.
Ysabel turned away and grabbed her belongings. She was putting her boots on when she heard the door crack open and a familiar voice greeted them. “Ah, I see you have asked our guest to dress herself. Good thinking, Roran,” Derrin said. He was standing on the doorway, carrying a tray and was smiling at her. A smile that chilled her blood colder than the mountain did. She looked from the older man to Roran then back. Their escape plan was compromised, but she wondered whether or not he had been standing by the door all along.
“I have brought food,” he declared, stepping into the room. The scent of soup and freshly made bread wafted in the small room. In response, her stomach grumbled and she almost forgot that she should be running by then and not fantasizing on the taste of the food on the tray. “These are all for her, Roran, you hear me? If you are hungry, you may eat with the rest of us, but these are all for the girl.” His tone held warning, but it was difficult to think ill of Derrin with his eyes so soft and his smile as warm as the food he placed on the table.
**No major plans, just food :)
Still, she was different.
The man who bought her from her parents was named Adranus. He was a man of questionable character, who ran his little criminal empire in the heart of Bolavo. He was also the man who raised Ysabel to believing that it was for her good that she kept her talent a secret and refrain from asking questions about it.
Stories of gods’ kings and queens were not very popular in Horngul. She had heard some, but as a rational adult, didn’t take it into heart. Now, this man was implying that she might just be one of the legendary people who ruled the continent.
She let her hand fall to her side and kept her face a blank mask protecting her emotions. “The gods are dead,” she whispered with less conviction that she would have wanted. What he told her was impossible. She needed to get out of the fortress to protect her secret and prevent these people from turning her into a slave as Adranus had once warned her.
Ysabel turned away and grabbed her belongings. She was putting her boots on when she heard the door crack open and a familiar voice greeted them. “Ah, I see you have asked our guest to dress herself. Good thinking, Roran,” Derrin said. He was standing on the doorway, carrying a tray and was smiling at her. A smile that chilled her blood colder than the mountain did. She looked from the older man to Roran then back. Their escape plan was compromised, but she wondered whether or not he had been standing by the door all along.
“I have brought food,” he declared, stepping into the room. The scent of soup and freshly made bread wafted in the small room. In response, her stomach grumbled and she almost forgot that she should be running by then and not fantasizing on the taste of the food on the tray. “These are all for her, Roran, you hear me? If you are hungry, you may eat with the rest of us, but these are all for the girl.” His tone held warning, but it was difficult to think ill of Derrin with his eyes so soft and his smile as warm as the food he placed on the table.
**No major plans, just food :)
I think I used the wrong words. Maybe "I don't think he'll forgive her" is too strong a statement. :p It's just that Nick won't take her side, at least not yet. Instead, he would use her against the enemy. While doing so, he won't notice how deep he'd fallen for her until he thought he was about to lose her.
I think it'll be easier if she confessed, like she'll be a state witness or something. But how do you think she'll react when she finds out that he's been lying all along? Can he not reveal his real identity even after she told him that she's a spy?
I think it'll be easier if she confessed, like she'll be a state witness or something. But how do you think she'll react when she finds out that he's been lying all along? Can he not reveal his real identity even after she told him that she's a spy?
The morning was a grim reminder of the reality that was waiting for them back in London. He was back to being the government spy and she was again the Duke's daughter who he married for connections. It was the sad reality made lighter by the sound of Claire's voice.
Nick groaned and tried to pull her back against him, but Claire managed to twist out of his weak attempt. He wasn't sure what time he had fallen asleep and how long was he out. His eyes still hurt and the bed was not uncomfortable, but when he opened his eyes, the sight that greeted him banished the sleepiness. Instead, a slow smile crept on his face.
"Nicholas, we should be going. Your father will be worried sick, and you need to see the doctor as soon as possible. The ferry will be running this early in the morning, won’t it?"
His hand travelled to the small of her back, marveling at the perfection of her complexion, making a mental note to find a way to thank Mr. Bennett for talking him into marrying this woman. He kept his lips sealed for a long moment, just staring at her face and smiling like an idiot, while his hand caressed her back. And when finally he found his voice he said, "I cannot help you with your hair, dear wife."
**********
It was already mid-morning, after a warm bath and breakfast, when the two of them checked out of the inn. Nick paid a boy to hire a carriage for them and in no time they were back at the port. The tickets he bought the other day was replaced with new ones and they were finally welcomed aboard.
"Mr. Rochford," called a familiar voice. Nicholas turned in time to see the professor approaching them. He tipped his hat in a manner of greeting.
"Professor," he said. "Urgent business in London? It must be, for you to travel this early."
"Good morning to you, Nicholas. And Mrs. Rochford, I'd say you look more beautiful under bright lighting," he told Claire, but then turned to Nick again. "I thought you two were going back to London last night."
"We were. Only that the ferry service had shut down early. We managed to secure a room nearby."
The professor shook his head. "You should have gone to my place. You know where i live, yes?" Nick nodded and Professor White continued, "I have a spare bedroom at home. Anyway, where did you stay that you looked a bit sick this morning?"
"Do I?" He turned to Claire as if to ask how he looked. "I've been... ah, sick. The accommodations last night has nothing to do with how I look today, I assure you. How long will you be in London?" He asked, hoping to direct his curiosity elsewhere. "My wife and I are hosting a masquerade ball this coming weekend. We will be honored if you would consent to attend, right Claire?"
Nick groaned and tried to pull her back against him, but Claire managed to twist out of his weak attempt. He wasn't sure what time he had fallen asleep and how long was he out. His eyes still hurt and the bed was not uncomfortable, but when he opened his eyes, the sight that greeted him banished the sleepiness. Instead, a slow smile crept on his face.
"Nicholas, we should be going. Your father will be worried sick, and you need to see the doctor as soon as possible. The ferry will be running this early in the morning, won’t it?"
His hand travelled to the small of her back, marveling at the perfection of her complexion, making a mental note to find a way to thank Mr. Bennett for talking him into marrying this woman. He kept his lips sealed for a long moment, just staring at her face and smiling like an idiot, while his hand caressed her back. And when finally he found his voice he said, "I cannot help you with your hair, dear wife."
**********
It was already mid-morning, after a warm bath and breakfast, when the two of them checked out of the inn. Nick paid a boy to hire a carriage for them and in no time they were back at the port. The tickets he bought the other day was replaced with new ones and they were finally welcomed aboard.
"Mr. Rochford," called a familiar voice. Nicholas turned in time to see the professor approaching them. He tipped his hat in a manner of greeting.
"Professor," he said. "Urgent business in London? It must be, for you to travel this early."
"Good morning to you, Nicholas. And Mrs. Rochford, I'd say you look more beautiful under bright lighting," he told Claire, but then turned to Nick again. "I thought you two were going back to London last night."
"We were. Only that the ferry service had shut down early. We managed to secure a room nearby."
The professor shook his head. "You should have gone to my place. You know where i live, yes?" Nick nodded and Professor White continued, "I have a spare bedroom at home. Anyway, where did you stay that you looked a bit sick this morning?"
"Do I?" He turned to Claire as if to ask how he looked. "I've been... ah, sick. The accommodations last night has nothing to do with how I look today, I assure you. How long will you be in London?" He asked, hoping to direct his curiosity elsewhere. "My wife and I are hosting a masquerade ball this coming weekend. We will be honored if you would consent to attend, right Claire?"
No, I don't think he'll forgive her if he found out at this point, but he would give her a chance to redeem herself though silently. I think he should be in the stage wherein he's beginning to enjoy her company. He sweetie not to fall in love with her, but you and I know that he will eventually. There should be something that will make him realize how he's fallen for her. Hmmmm...
Maybe the professor will have his little investigation on who Nick really is, because he suspects Nick to be the same person he met on the night before Nick and Claire were wed. Or maybe one of his associates will do that. Can we introduce a side character at the ball? The associate and middleman. He can be the third party who'll get between Claire and Nick, the threat that will make Nick realize he doesn't want to lose her.
Tell me what you think.
Maybe the professor will have his little investigation on who Nick really is, because he suspects Nick to be the same person he met on the night before Nick and Claire were wed. Or maybe one of his associates will do that. Can we introduce a side character at the ball? The associate and middleman. He can be the third party who'll get between Claire and Nick, the threat that will make Nick realize he doesn't want to lose her.
Tell me what you think.
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