Lucille [H.S]

4

17th May 1815

On many a pleasant afternoon, the Viscount often found himself venturing from the solitude of his study to find pleasure in the simplicity of the surrounding nature of the family manor gardens. There was something about the way the warmth of the sun's rays gracing his skin made all his worries evaporate into thin air as his body began to unwind. His mind was granted momentary peace by the pleasant distraction of the blossoming flowers, a rainbow of rich colours and sweet perfume drifting on the breeze overtaking his senses, providing him with a form of relaxation he craved from the moment he awoke in the morning.

However, upon Juliette's usual wake-up call that morning, Harry was met with the news that he would not be alone on his walk later in the afternoon. Instead, he would be accompanying a chaperoned Colette for a walk through the public gardens to officially mark the beginning of their courtship.

An agreement had been made between both families on the timeline of the couple's courtship which would eventually lead to their wedding in just under four months' time. Certain elements had been left up to Harry to do as he deemed proper, such as gifts and letters he intended to send but his mother could not resist having some form of input on where he would take Colette to publicly show his interest in her. It had been her that had arranged this afternoon's promenade.

As much as he despised the entire ordeal, the hope that he would now have an excuse to publicly engage with Lucien a little more frequently without arousing suspicion was enough encouragement to go through with it. Besides, Colette seemed a lovely young woman and it was not lost on the Viscount how lucky he had been to be tied to her rather than one of the snobbish, self-centred women he often bumped into during social events. At the very least, some kind of friendship between him and Colette would make things a little easier for both of them.

It seemed that the arranged visit was not a solo affair and the entire Styles family, including Matthew, bundled into the carriage to join Harry on what was already a troublesome affair. A little break from his mother would have been a fine thing but he supposed he would have a lifetime away from her if he wished after his wedding day. He had already planned to stay at the Styles country manor right after their honeymoon period concluded, unwilling to subject himself to his mother's meddling any longer than he had to.

Strolling through the dappled shade of the garden pathway, the Viscount took advantage of his momentary solitude by letting his thoughts drift to his lover. In a few moments, he would be bumping into the Hawthorne family so he could invite them to spend the afternoon with the rest of the Styles family while he took the chance to get to know Colette better. Most men in Harry's position would take this moment to ensure his appearance was acceptable, straighten up his shirt or tidy his curls a little perhaps, but all the Viscount cared about was whether his dearest would be in attendance. Was there the possibility he had made himself Colette's chaperone? It would surely give them the chance to regularly meet each other without suspicion, yet again, would Lucien really put himself in a position where he has to watch his lover pursue his sister? It was unlikely.

But Harry so desperately longed to see the man he was so devoted to outside the confines of midnight dreams. He needed to see those pink lips curl into that infamous smirk he adored so much, he longed to get lost in the clear blue sea of his eyes or run his fingers affectionately through those gorgeous thick curls. If Lucien could hear his current thoughts he would positively mock him for being such a hopeless romantic. He often joked that Harry would make an excellent poet, one that would surely compete with the likes of Lord Byron or Percy Shelley.

However, the Viscount knew the biggest romantic of them all was indeed Lucien despite how hard he tried to deny it. His love letters spoke for themselves and Harry often found himself re-reading the poetic words of old letters in the dwindling candlelight, blushing like a schoolboy at Lucien's declarations of devotion.