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princessanonymous · 3 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

20. 𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 (𝓞𝓻 𝓪𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓝𝓮𝓮𝓭)

As the days unfolded, (Y/n) found herself slowly embracing a sense of ease. It marked the third day away from the vampires, and Dorian had yet to find her. The sisters at the nunnery, though aware of little about her past, treated her with kindness. They likely assumed she was a noble child whose family had fallen victim to a vampire attack. While not entirely true, the fact remained: she was now an orphan. The idea of being sent to an orphanage lingered in the background, but for now, the sisters seemed to enjoy her presence, and she, in turn, appreciated theirs.

In the cozy living room, (Y/n) engaged in companionship with some of the nuns. Glancing outside on the sunny day, she made a face — too bright and too sunny. After months of living nocturnally, adapting to the daytime proved more challenging than (Y/n) expected.

Turning her attention elsewhere, she marveled at the beautiful handcrafts one nun was creating — a delicate handkerchief adorned with flowers and butterflies. "Does this take a lot of time?" she inquired, observing Sister Margaret's skilled embroidery.

Smiling, Sister Margaret shook her head. "Once you've mastered the basics, it becomes an easy, even pleasant task," she explained calmly.

A knock at the door disrupted their peaceful moment. Three men entered, one clad in religious garb and the other two resembling battle-hardened hunters. Knives and stakes adorned their brown leather belts. Father Thomas, a familiar face, led the group. The priest routinely visited the nunnery. The hunters, though, were completely unfamiliar to her.

"Hello, (Y/n)," Father Thomas greeted with a grandfatherly smile. "How are you today?"

"Good," she replied briefly.

The priest gestured to the hunters. "Allow me to introduce Archibald and Jonah Rowan. They are vampire hunters. They will help us track down the vampire that attacked you."

Vampire hunters? A shiver ran down her spine at the sight of their weaponry. "What will you do to him?" she asked hesitantly, trying to maintain composure.

Archibald stepped forward gruffly, "We'll track that beast down and send it back right where it's s'posed to be; in Hell."

She bit her lip, uncertain.

"We just need ya' to tell us everythin' you know 'bout this thing," added the other.

Reluctance crept inside her ; she was unsure if she wanted to do that. She couldn't bring herself to tell them anything she knew. Killian was with Dorian, which meant that if she sent the hunters to him, his partner would be attacked too. Even then, she didn't want to aid in killing Dorian. She knew she should, but she didn't want to. He hadn't hurt her that bad; he had treated her— no matter how he had treated her, he just didn't deserve such a fate.

Looking away, she clutched her doll, Clementine, close. Killian had put it in her bags and she had been relieved when she found it. It was like a souvenir of him. "I don't— I don't remember anything,” she gulped.

"Are you sure, (Y/n) ?" The priest questioned skeptically with a probing stare.

"I don't remember anything," she reiterated more fervently, hugging the doll defensively. "Why would I lie?"

They exchanged hesitant glances, some unconvinced, unsure why she'd conceal the vampire's identity. Opting not to disclose further information, (Y/n) focused on rearranging Clementine's dress, witnessing the frustration on the hunters' faces as they posed more questions unanswered. She simply chose silence.

⊱ ────── {⋆𖤐⋆} ────── ⊰

Someone knocked at the door to the room she had been staying in for the past five days. She stood up from her modest bed, a sense of routine settling into her life.

"Good morning, dear. Why don't you come down to eat?" Sister Margaret invited, her voice gentle and reassuring. The girl nodded appreciatively, grateful for the sense of normalcy and compassion that surrounded her in this place. She followed the older woman, their footsteps echoing through the quiet corridors, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the estate she had left behind.

Together, they descended the stairs, arriving in the communal area where the other inhabitants of the house were already seated for breakfast. The atmosphere was a far cry from the gloomy estate she had escaped. Here, the air was filled with a calm and pleasant energy, a stark departure from the tension that had become the norm in her previous surroundings.

Breakfast unfolded as a tranquil, communal affair. The residents engaged in light conversation, sharing anecdotes and laughter that resonated with genuine warmth. The contrast to the heavy, stifling meals at the estate was stark. Here, the air was filled with a sense of camaraderie and acceptance.

(Y/n) appreciated the small talk, the mundane discussions that seemed almost magical in their simplicity. The nuns were welcoming, never pressuring her to conform to any expectations. It felt like a breath of fresh air, the light-hearted and carefree atmosphere she had been deprived of for far too long.

Seated at the table, (Y/n) chose to remain quiet, observing the interactions around her. She found solace in the light-hearted banter, relishing the newfound freedom to simply listen and be present. It was a stark departure from the oppressive silence that often accompanied her meals in the estate, and she savored the moments of normalcy.

The people around her in this new place seemed genuinely kind, their gestures and words motivated by a compassion that was almost foreign to her. Their warmth enveloped her without being overbearing, and she found solace in the genuine care that surrounded her. It was a stark contrast to the kind of love she had experienced in the gloomy estate.

As she sat at the breakfast table, her stomach twisted a bit. The contrast between the meals here and those at the vampire’s estate brought forth a mix of emotions. Dorian's way of caring, though vastly different and at times unsettling, lingered in her thoughts. In a strange, messed-up way, she found herself longing for it even in the midst of this newfound haven.

Her mind wandered to memories of hands brushing through her hair, the warmth of a kiss on her forehead, or the sensation of a hand holding her wrist with a vice-like, firm grip. These were nothing but fragments of the past, haunting her in the present. These were nothing but phantom touches, feelings that would most likely disappear eventually. For now, however, they felt comforting ; like she wasn't alone and he wouldn't leave. It was a thought that both terrified her and brought her a form of solace.

Was it normal to long for someone who had caused her so much pain? The question lingered, only troubling her more,

Five days.

Only five days and she already missed that place; her lavish prison. He must have done something to her, must have messed her up somehow, causing this inner turmoil to brew within her.

She flinched visibly, the sudden touch triggering an instinctive reaction that she couldn't control. The hand that had innocently rested on hers quickly retreated at her adverse response. Sister Gloria, with a heart full of concern, had a visibly worried expression on her face, having keenly observed the gloom that had settled over (Y/n). The girl gave her a strained smile, not knowing what else to do. The woman's expression softened slightly, but the creases of worry on her forehead remained.

After the meal, once she finished helping them clean up the place, Sister Glaria requested her help in feeding Pepper, the horse that had aided in her escape. While the nunnery didn't have a stable, they had set up a small temporary cabin to ensure the horse was well taken care of.

The girl readily agreed and followed Sister Gloria to the makeshift stable. As they entered, the familiar presence of Pepper greeted them, the horse's gentle eyes reflecting a sense of trust that had been forged during their shared journey through the forest.

(Y/n) petted the horse affectionately, expressing her gratitude for Pepper's assistance. The revelation that horses could be trained to navigate an entire trip on their own had been surprising to her. The journey through the dense forest had been long, and she hadn't arrived until the sun had set. It hadn’t been a linear path either, Pepper had trudged through the plants and trees masterfully, turning left or right at different points until they finally reached their destination.

"What is her name?" asked Sister Gloria with a soft smile, her curiosity evident. It was then that (Y/n) realized she had never shared the name of the mare with those at the nunnery.

Caught off guard, she blushed in embarrassment, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "Pepper."

The nun's eyebrows rose in recognition, a light of realization in her eyes. "Oh, that must be why she looks so familiar."

(Y/n) furrowed her brows in confusion. "She does?"

"A brunette with long hair. He took strolls around here for the last month, practically every day, with the same precise path, and occasionally came to talk to us. That’s how we learned this mare’s name."

As the nun spoke, (Y/n)'s mind raced, trying to piece together the information. A gentleman with a familiar routine, someone who had taken the time to introduce Pepper to the nunnery. She smiled faintly; Killian.

The woman paused for an instant and placed a hand on her mouth. "Oh dear, he hasn't come here recently... Is he— was he... your father ?"

The nun jumped to the unlikely and wrong conclusion that Killian could be her dead father, but (Y/n) shut that down quickly. She shook her head, "No, an... acquaintance. Someone that helped." Misunderstandings were quick to happen when she wasn’t telling them the whole truth, but she thought it was better that way.

Sister Goria sighed in relief. There was a moment of silence as she fed a carrot to Pepper.

"Sister Gloria, what is going to happen to me now?" (Y/n) finally asked a question she dreaded the answer to.

The woman remained silent for sometime, before saying, "Word of mouth has already begun to circle around. Local villages have been informed. We will find a place for you. Maybe in an orphanage or a benevolent family."

Dread took hold of (Y/n). She didn't like the sound of those options, neither an orphanage nor being placed with a family she didn't know. However, the nun offered an alternative, a glimmer of hope in the form of staying here.

"But, you could also stay here if you wish to," she added with a warm smile. "We would love to have a young girl around here to liven up the mood. I am sure nobody would mind."

The idea of being part of a community that had shown her kindness and understanding felt less daunting. She mused at the possibility, imagining herself contributing to the lighthearted atmosphere she had grown to appreciate.

"You don't have to decide now," assured the nun.

That struck her in an odd way. 'You don't have to decide now'. She had a choice, didn't she? The realization sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

"I like that," she managed to say, her voice cracking slightly, "I like that very much."

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #stockholm syndrome #toxic relationship #abusiveness #Our girl seems to be healing :)

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natequarter · 7 months

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the ghosts' opinions on what alison should name the baby:

robin: robin if it's a girl. robin if it's a boy. robin if they later decide to change their name and need advice on what to pick. failing that, mary, gender irrelevant

humphrey: literally anything that isn't his name. err maybe henry, francis - not francis, actually - thomas - no, not that either, they'd never hear the end of it - william? charles? george - oh no definitely not that - richard, maybe? none of those? well, that's all the boy's names that were popular in his time, so... margaret and mary are probably a bit old-fashioned, maybe elizabeth? failing that there's anne or - well, maybe not katherine. sophie's quite a nice modern name, now that he thinks about it, but maybe not that either... don't mind him, he's rambling

kitty: fluttershy, of course! or destiny. and maybe george for a boy. (there are a lot of suggestions of george from the ghosts. they weren't thinking of fanny, honest.)

thomas: isabelle. or alison, since she is so radiant that a child deserves to be blessed with her grace. and absolutely not francis, under any circumstances. but definitely isabelle. really, isabelle is a must. she should pick isabelle.

fanny: absolutely none of that modern nonsense! alison should pick a good, old-fashioned name, like ethel or archibald.

the captain: richard? adam? anthony? (alison thinks these are genuinely innocent suggestions.) otherwise, elizabeth, for a girl, after the late queen, and charles for a boy

pat: we should make this a club!

julian: doesn't understand what all the fuss is about. leave it to the moth-- wait no that's alison. leave it to the nurses...?

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers

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mamaito · 1 year

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#my art #mechat #archibald thomas #wip

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i-am-not-a-super-hero · 12 days

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My Candy Love New Gen is finally out!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳 So I went ahead and played the first chapter a bunch of times, here are the answers I chose in case they can be useful to someone else :3 (spanish only since that's my main server)

/neutral +positive -negative

Zahra: Bueno, ¿quieres beber algo, Ysaline?

Un zumo de naranja está bien. /

Como tú, un café será perfecto. /

Sí, me apetece un té, si hay. /

Zahra: …

¡Y también pienso disfrutar de ella! No creo que mi próxima casa tenga piscina… /

¡Y cuando vuelvas ya me habré ido! /

Y me salvas la vida, de verdad. No me quedaré mucho tiempo… /

Zahra: Por cierto, Ysaline, ¿qué esperas de este nuevo comienzo?

(REBELDE) Quiero tomarme la revancha. /

(DULCE) Pues la verdad es que espero que vaya mejor que en EPMC… -Tasha

(ENÉRGICA) ¡Quiero arrasar en mi nuevo trabajo! +Tasha

Zahra: ¡Qué experiencia más terrible! ¡Podría haber hecho que Ysaline se desencantara del amor para siempre!

(REBELDE) Ignoraré los consejos de una adolescente de dieciséis años. -Tasha

(DULCE) No te preocupes por eso, mamá. /

(ENÉRGICA) Lo que tengo muy claro es que el siguiente que intente jugar conmigo va a pasar un mal rato. +Tasha

CONJUNTO: 40 PAS

Archibald: Pero lo que no sabía es que tú también habías decidido venir aquí…

De momento, estoy en casa de mamá. REGALO TAKI

Llevo muy poco tiempo, acabo de llegar… /

Para ser sincera, lo cierto es que no he tenido elección. /

Roy: Y no entiendo cómo es posible que no me haya fijado en ti…

(REBELDE) ¿En serio ese es tu mejor piropo?

(DULCE) No pasa nada, a veces pasa… /

(ENÉRGICA) No te preocupes, a mí también me pasa cuando corro. +

Thomas: …

(REBELDE) ¿Y por eso llegas tarde? /

(ENÉRGICA) Creo que la primera hora ya ha pasado, no deberíamos demorarnos más. -

(DULCE) ¿No te gusta madrugar? A mí, tampoco… +

Thomas: …

(DULCE) Siento que tengas que encargarte de esto… -

(REBELDE) Estoy de acuerdo contigo: el papeleo es un rollo. +

(ENÉRGICA) Es increíble. ¡Me atrevería a decir que no te gusta el papeleo! /

Thomas: Es de buena calidad y estás de frente.

(REBELDE) Vale… Pero es mejor poner en el pase la foto que he traído. -

(ENÉRGICA) En realidad, tiene bastante gracia… ¡Creo que me acostumbraré! +

(DULCE) Bueno… Tal vez podrías haberme preguntado mi opinión antes… /

Thomas: Es una foto tuya, se te reconoce, y estás guapa… ¿no?

En este caso concreto, no, la verdad es que no. /

¿Intentas arreglarlo con un cumplido? /

De verdad, ¿tú crees? /

Thomas: …

Mi madre es rica, pero yo no. /

Así es, mi madre es arquitecta, y es bastante conocida en el sector… /

Preferiría que guardaras tus comentarios para ti… /

Thomas: …

(REBELDE) Déjalo. ¿Puedo dar una vuelta, para conocer la oficina? IMAGEN

(ENÉRGICA) ¡Esperaba que al menos me presentaras a todo el mundo!

(DULCE) Quizá podrías enseñarme un poco la oficina… /

Thomas: ¿Qué te apetece?

Nada, estoy bien, gracias…

¿Qué te apetece a ti? /

Déjame mirar a ver qué hay… IMAGEN

Thomas: …

Un zumo de tomate. Es estimulante… /

Un chocolate caliente, si está bueno. /

Un café está bien. /

Amanda: Tú debes de ser la nueva. Soy Amanda de Lavienne.

(DULCE) (Le estrecho la mano sonriendo) +

(REBELDE) Deduzco que tú debes de ser la veterana. Soy Ysaline. /

(ENÉRGICA) ¡Sí! Me llamo Ysaline. ¿¡Me das dos besos!?

Roy: …

¿Qué te parece esta, en forma de dinosaurio? ¿¡No es muy bonita!? / ESCRITORIO PREHISTÓRICO

Mira, una verdadera silla de oficina: móvil, con buen apoyo lumbar, sobria… / ESCRITORIO ERGONÓMICO

La silla redonda es bonita, ¿no? Me gusta, y parece cómoda… / ESCRITORIO AGRADABLE

Brune: ¿Qué te hagamos un montón de preguntas?

(REBELDE) De momento solo van tres. Creo que podré soportarlo. +Elenda

(DULCE) Toda va bien, gracias. Y sí, ya he encontrado mi mesa. /

(ENÉRGICA) Lo ideal sería tenerlas todas por escrito, para poder responder a mi ritmo. +Brune

Brune: Yo creo que al final, estamos mucho mejor aquí.

La empresa en sí misma estaba bien… pero la gente que trabajaba allí… +Brune

Digamos que ha sido… instructivo. Pero quería cambiar a otra cosa. /

Yo también lo creo. Allí, el ambiente era insoportable. +Elenda

COMEDOR – ROY

Roy: …

¡Perdona, es que es muy raro!

Aquí todo el mundo sabe que haces… ¿qué exactamente? IMAGEN

Voy a dejarte entonces, antes de no poder parar de mirar esos abdominales…

Roy: Dos series de cincuenta. Tampoco quiero quedar molido…

(REBELDE) ¡Ah, claro! Después de hacer jogging, cien flexiones… ¡Qué menos!

(ENÉRGICA) ¿En dos series? ¡Eso es para principiantes! IMAGEN

(DULCE) Vale, no quería molestarte… Te dejo. /

SALA DE REUNIONES – AMANDA

Amanda: ¿Puedo hacer algo por ti?

Quizá… Aún me estoy adaptando… /

Pues… No. Pensaba que la sala estaba vacía… Perdona.

Amanda: Vengo de una familia privilegiada. No voy a renegar de ella por eso.

(REBELDE) No hay por qué avergonzarse, pero no me gustan demasiado los interrogatorios. /

(ENÉRGICA) Tienes razón. No me avergüenzo de ello, es más, todo lo contrario. -

(DULCE) No, por supuesto. Es solo que no me gusta alardear de ello. +

Amanda: …

(No me muevo. Mala suerte para la abeja reina.)

(Me precipito a ayudarla a recogerlo todo.) IMAGEN

(Por curiosidad, aprovecho para intentar leer los papeles…)

DESPACHO DE DEVON – DEVON

Devon: Ven, Ysaline, puedes entrar.

(Entro en el despacho y me indica que me siente) +

No, eres muy amable, pero no quiero molestar…

Devon: ¿Quieres que firmemos tu contrato, quizá? Lo tengo aquí…

¡Encantada! ¡Es increíble lo rápido que va todo esto! /

¡Estupendo! Casi me esperaba pasar una entrevista de trabajo.

Devon: No aceptaba un no por respuesta.

(DULCE) Estupendo… Una vez más, mi madre es quien lo ha hecho todo. +

(REBELDE) Ya te digo. Habría podido comprar toda la empresa.

(ENÉRGICA) ¿¡En serio!? ¡Si es así, prefiero ir a buscar a otro sitio!

Devon: Y cuando lo hayas leído, podrás firmarlo…

(ENÉRGICA) (Me tomo un minuto para leer rápidamente las páginas.) IMAGEN

(DULCE) Vale, bien. Confío en ti.

(REBELDE) ¿Te importa si me lo llevo a casa para leerlo más tranquilamente?

#my candy love spoilers #my candy love new gen spoilers #my candy love #my candy love new gen #mcl #mclng

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warnersister · 4 months

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“Tea in the Cotswolds” Michael Gray x Reader

Michael Gray x Reader

When Thomas has business with Archibald Wentworth, a prestigious delegate in the Cotswolds, Michael is tasked with occupying the man’s adult daughter - getting more acquainted than expected.

The Blinders had expanded their business - all the way to the Cotswolds, Tommy had taken John and Michael for the ride; leaving Arthur back in Birmingham as he didn’t find this the right environment for any sort of negative articulation to be breaking out; especially at Wentworth Family Manor.

The houses became progressively larger as the carriage rolled down the cobbled street, some with drives too large to be able to see the house it belonged to at all. But eventually, the vehicle came to a stop at the looming house; substantially larger than all others. In his head, the only similar build Michael had seen to this was Buckingham Palace - large and awe-inspiring enough to be the encasings to a proud museum, contents sacred and protected.

But potentially Michael’s imagination wasn’t too far from reality.

“Right,” Tommy began, eyes flicking between the two men whom had accompanied him. “Today is a very important meeting. And i need to leave a good impression on the Wentworth’s. So we leave our egos and our guns in the car.” John’s brows creased in confusion. “Leave our guns?” “They’re not dangerous. This is legal business; real estate - dabbling a bit in the illegal side of things but not enough go start a fight. Mr Wentworth is an extremely prestigious man, as is his wife and daughter.” He told them calmly. “I’ll talk with Mr Wentworth, John you’ll talk with his missus and explain what we do: nicely. Michael - I’ll leave you to get acquainted with his daughter, yn.” “You’re leaving me with the child?” He asked, confused. “Yn is twenty.”

They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

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