𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 - 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛

1815, London, England

Florence had always held a deep passion for horses, she respected them as much as she admired them. Her horse-enthralled mother had set no debates around the passion, and of course as rebellion would have it Florence didn't take well to being told what to like or not like.

As tragedy struck, and life worked against her she felt compelled and drawn to the animals, whenever she was stuck or had a particular anxiety she would take her favourite horse out of the stable, make a conversation with the stable boys before riding across an open field with her horse.

Today was like no other, she woke early, failed at distracting herself before taking out a horse and enjoyed the bitter wind that nipped at her unclothed skin. Her long locks of brunette curls twisted and danced around with the wind behind her. She would ride on any day, no matter the weather, she enjoyed when it rained because the weather would dampen her hair and her horse enjoyed the puddles as much as any other weather.

But now in England, her horse was left behind in Sweden, and she missed him dearly but she had a pick of others horses in Aspley's stable, she had picked out one with a beautiful colouring and white dots trailed up the horses legs, but as she made up in appearance she lacked in skill. She couldn't perform half of the tricks Florence's horse in Sweden could, but it didn't matter she only wanted a peaceful horse ride today.

She had left the overly quiet stately home of the Aspley's whilst the sun hadn't rose, she enjoyed the foreign scenery in a field, the trees shaded her from any prying eyes though she doubted anyone would be awake as early as she. She had spent a good amount of hours, and the sun was glistening and some beads of sweet had dampened the lining of her hair and fell down her face, shining her features wonderfully.

She had retired from the horse, returned her to the stable, thanked no one in particular, disappeared to her borrowed room, undid her pinned up hair, dryed her face and changed into a fashioned but simple designed dress, it was a white dress, that stopped just above her ankles, it had been crumpled in her luggage but still remained a sophisticated dress, it had a low cut top that was balanced easily with some blue bow details. She brushed her hair lightly brushing out crumpled up curls that were just too tight and managed to loosen them, they made a wonderful sight down her back.

She hadn't really any plans for the day, but she imagined talking a walk around the local market would be a peaceful leisurely stroll for her. The light wind was a contrasting choice with the beating down heat from the sun.

She had a purse filled with numerous coins, several pounds, and many shillings, Erika had fetched them for Florence before they had set sailed for England.

Florence strode confidently down the lane that led away from the Aspley home, and as she did, flashes of the man from yesterday flooded her mind, now that she was reflecting, she saw him and his angelic face which she swore now was carved by gabriel himself, his voice had been calm even when reaching a misunderstanding with his younger sister, he appeared just like any other man she had been forced to make acquaintances with, but something inside of her hinted that he was different and that she would be pleasantly surprised when it would be revealed.

She pushed the thought aside and was about to start revelling in his brown eyes she had only got a short glimpse of when she was stopped abruptly by a booming voice.

"Lady Galloway!" Florence looked in the direction of the voice, even though she had met her only yesterday she didn't fight the grin much and responded almost immediately.