{NOVEL PREVIOUSLY NAMED: "PALE EYES"}
𑁍Julius Cadwell is a pauper from an impoverished village, Porlock of Somerset in England. Julius journeys to Wellington to work as a footman for the Duke of Wellington, Somerset.
♕︎Reuben Griffith is the only s...
❝His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; and every light occasion of the wind upon his lips their silken parcels hurl. What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find: each eye that saw him did enchant the mind, For on his visage was in little drawn What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn.❞
•William Shakespeare
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Looks can be deceiving, but most appear the way they behave...
Parlourꨄ︎
The soiree organized by the Duke was anything but drab, Lord Alfred had outdone himself as usual.
There was a banquet set, with all kinds of delicacies; from desserts, to wine, to alcohol as well as a basket of freshly baked pieces of bread and a platter of roasted pork. Punctilious footmen and maids transversed the parlour with serving trays containing champagne.
Lord Alfred, Clement and a few other male acquaintances were chatting, arguing, but mostly laughing boisterously in front of the fireplace. With perfumed cigarette pipes and decanters of spiced wine and alcohol littered before them.
Lady Alice was seated on the piano bench, playing a soft romantic arrangement with Duchess Augusta and Adelaide encircling her.
Reuben was stood beside the banquet. He flexed his foot against the freshly waxed parlour floor, dreading everything. He wasn't one who enjoyed much conversation, but it would be nice if the guests at the soirée weren't all old greedy men, but unfortunately, until the guest who were to arrive in Wellington for the ball arrived, all his father's guests for any event at the meantime would be these men.
Reuben wasn't one to sneak a scotch, but he felt he needed something to dull the thoughts of Julius, and since the soirée wasn't distracting him as much as he had hoped for. He quietly beckoned a footboy over to pour him a glass.
Reuben stuck out his tongue in distaste as the liquor burned down his throat. He would never understand the joy people found in alcohol. After briefly nursing the amber liquid in his glass, he decided that it just wasn't for him. He spent most of his time at the event sulking by the table.
“Do not look so woebegone, Reuben.” Elizabeth had walked to him. “Why are you by yourself?”
“I have no interest in joining father and his grey-haired playfellows in their bacchanalian affairs,” Reuben scoffed.
“This soirée is barely as exciting as a retirement facility,” Elizabeth softly laughed. “Clement is a young lad, at least you can find companion in him if not the others.”
Reuben arched a brow at her gentle raillery. “I know you are well aware that I'd rather eat my toes than have a conversation with Clement, if not forced on me.”
“That is quite an amusing way to put it,” she smiled despite herself, absentmindedly twirling a finger around the shawl over her shoulders. “What has you melodramatic than usual, Uhm, dearest brother?"
