Cranborne Manor

Three

Treven examined himself in the mirror. He turned sideways and surveyed his new evening suit. Typical black. Dull, casual black. He glared at his reflection. Too long had he been wearing this color.

He sighed and turned towards the window. Two days he had been in this bedroom. When Eric's friends had arrived, he watched from the window. He had seen the pretty redhead step from the carriage. He had seen the admiration and anticipation in her emerald eyes. Turning away, he had drawn the curtain over the window. Women were not trustworthy. If he knew anything, it was this.

Eric had knocked on Treven's door, asking if he would come and enjoy the evening with them. He declined, claiming he had work to do. It hadn't been entirely a lie. He had plenty of work to finish. But had he done any of it? No. He had sat at the small desk listening to the pretty laughter coming from below.

Tonight was the night. He would exit this room and celebrate Eric's birthday with the other guests. There had only been a select few invited, via Eric's request. Most were from neighboring estates, manors, and towns. They would all return to their homes this night instead of sleeping in the Farman Estate. Only Eric's closest friends would stay the night.

He could hear the people downstairs talking. He could hear the small orchestra. Steeling himself for a night of great annoyance, he opened the door.

As he walked down the hall, the voices of men and the vain giggles of women grew louder. He descended the stairs and found Eric waiting anxiously at the bottom. Eric looked up and relief spread across his face.

"Finally, you're here! You should really be more punctual."

"They can wait. Besides, a late entrance is always more impressive."

Eric smirked.

"I suppose that's true. Now, lets not keep them waiting any longer."

Eric took off towards the doors to the ballroom, Trevin following behind.

Only for one night. Just one night. Trevin thought as he walked towards an evening of torment.

The doors opened and the brightness of the room temporarily blinded Treven.

The sparkling dresses. The shining jewelry. The twinkle of candles and crystal goblets. He blinked twice and began to see faces. But were they real? No. The white flour and the red rouge on their faces made them artificial. These women were not real. They were pretending to be something they were not. The men in the room did not seem to mind. They flirted unabashedly with every person in a skirt, proving once again that all women were the same.

As they were announced, Treven noticed a familiar young man making his way through the crowd.

The man from the woods. The pretty lady's brother, Treven remembered.

As Treven and Eric finished their descent, the young man approached. He smirked at Eric and grabbed his shoulder.

"Fancy entrance, friend." he laughed. Then he turned to Treven and his eyes clouded in confusion. Maybe even remembrance.

Treven smiled, hiding the thoughts within. Another one. Another one of these flippant, selfish, flirts, who cares for nothing and no one but himself. He had probably acquainted himself with the prettiest ladies already and danced with half of them.

"Treven, this is my friend, Gilbertus Cranborne. His father, Lord Cranborne, is a close acquaintance of my father."

Treven watched as Gilbertus's face contorted in a grimace. He reached forward and grabbed his offred hand.