hhbridgertonau

[hhbridgertonau]

20 - Roses in Full Bloom

TW for brief depictions mentioning sex. Not the chapter you're looking for? Check the Masterlist!

The cold of the morning disrupted Daleon’s dreams. She saw the empty side of the bed next to hers, and the drawn curtains revealed the glaring sun high on the sky. Despite how late it was for the lady of the house, she wished to succumb further into the warmth of the covers.

Sensations of the night before filled her mind, warming her from the inside out. Gab’s kisses were like fire on her skin. She traced a finger over her neck and collar bone, trying to replicate the tenderness. There was still much she had to understand of the intimacy of the marital bed, and it was safe to assume their curiosities and desires were mutual, but her curiosity was getting the better of her in accompaniment to the phantom touches. She trailed her hand lower, finding even the gentle glide of her hand across her stomach exciting. She stopped on the inside of her thigh, hesitant to touch any further. But even hovering near it made it tingle. She could only imagine what she would actually feel if she touched it - if Gab touched it.

If Gab suddenly decided to barge in, it would be the end of her. And yet, she begged to think maybe he would indulge her in her growing fantasies. She ought to be ashamed of herself. She retracted her hand, sat up, and rang for her maid to assist her with her dress. Adorned in a lavender ensemble with bits of her hair pulled up into a small bun, she set out to find her husband and their guests.

All was quiet on the second floor, and she wondered if the others were still asleep or had gone elsewhere. She saw Fauta in the hall, dressed in only his night shirt and pajamas. She thought to say good morning, but he did not see her. Instead, he went into another room across the hall. She remembered it to be Peggy’s. She approached the door, thinking to stop him from disturbing Peggy, but there were no sounds of alarm. Curious, she tiptoed closer and peeked through a small crack in the door. No one was in sight, but she could hear from somewhere in the room, the two viscounts.

“I should have locked it,” said Peggy.

“Or perhaps, you left it unlocked for me?”

There was laughter, mostly Fauta’s. She couldn’t quite see what was happening. There were a few bumps and knocks, and what she recognized as gasps. She waited, and then they came into view. Fauta trapped Peggy in his arms and kissed him. Harshly, Daleon might have added, with the way he squirmed in Fauta’s hold. And yet when they parted for air, Peggy did not push him away or hit him. Instead, he leaned up again for another - and that was the catalyst of it all. Fauta licked Peggy’s lips, sliding his tongue down his throat and over his Adam’s apple, pressing harsh kisses and suckles to the column of his neck. Peggy - who in Daleon’s memory had never been extremely vocal - moaned at Fauta’s ministrations. The sounds made her heart pound.

“We really should stop doing this,” said Peggy. But it was obvious to the three of them that those words were futile.

Fauta carried Peggy by his thighs towards the window sill, where he set Peggy down, limiting Daleon’s vision to only Fauta’s back. They kissed again, this time with the clear addition of tongues intertwining. It was a ghastly sight for certain, and yet Daleon could not find it in herself to walk away. And then Fauta pulled down his breeches. Daleon gasped in shock, and quickly covered her mouth to hide her voice. She should have looked away by now, but there was something enamoring in the way they touched each other. And how foreign it was too, considering she had never seen them interact. How long had they been seeing each other like this for them to be so vulnerable? A few moments later, Peggy’s breeches were discarded on the floor, and long, slender legs crossed behind Fauta’s back, pulling him closer towards him.

Daleon could not catch what they were doing. They only whispered into each other’s ears and kissed each other languidly. Peggy threw his head back, giving Fauta more opportunities to kiss his neck. Peggy reciprocated the affections - and it seemed Fauta was doing something to him as Peggy gasped and moaned beneath him. She had never seen Peggy make that face before. They were swaying, almost dancing, in complete and utter bliss with their bout of sensual affections.

“I must have you, Peggy.” She heard Fauta say.

“Then be quick. The others are already awake.”

Fauta adjusted himself, then angled himself towards Peggy’s behind, something Daleon could not see. There came a great big sigh, and they came skin to skin. And then there was rhythm. They moved toward and away from each other, slowly at first, before picking speed. As quickly as it began, it ceased. Daleon saw Peggy with his mouth agape, silently screaming and clawing at Fauta’s back that it began to redden. The two men slumped slightly over the other, as if a great fatigue hit them. Peggy embraced him and cradled Fauta’s head in his hands. They kissed once more, and Daleon gently clicked the door close to leave them to their debauchery. She was not entirely sure what to do, and it was certainly none of her business, but the way they did it sent her mind reeling, and she could not help but envision the one person who she desperately wished to seize her in that position.

She felt her face warm tremendously, and her head began to swim at the rush of information. It was not difficult to imagine Gab doing those things to her, and how enjoyable it could feel. Her fingers twitched.

Gab felt the air was somehow sweeter that day, and the sun much fairer. Of course, it did not matter in the slightest. In fact, it was preposterous. Nothing needed to change simply because he was beginning to accept Daleon’s affections, or the fact that he no longer wished to deny them, or the fact that he was now thinking of her as often as he did and wishing to reciprocate those affections—

He busied himself that morning to occupy his thoughts with something else. He oversaw the remaining decorations and purchases needed for the ball (which was to happen in a day’s time), loosening Daleon’s schedule and his own in the process. She should be awake by now - unless she intended to sleep in the morning, then the day would have to continue without her.

A knock at the door alleviated his worries. “Gabriel?” Her voice pierced through the wood.

“I’m here, Daleon.”

She wore a lavender dress today. Never mind how he now paid attention to it. It crumpled and wrinkled under her fist. They greeted each other, but she did not approach him to give him her morning kiss.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I—“ She trembled. Then as if realizing how she presented herself, she calmed, and straightened her dress. She swallowed. “I was simply admiring you.”

Even the way she looked at him was different now. Still, he gave her the benefit of the doubt. He walked over to her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. She let out a surprised gasp, but melted into him, allowing herself to be wrapped in his arms. The way her cheeks turned red delighted him so, he was sure he was making the same face. For once, Daleon could not respond, she only leaned in towards him, remaining in his embrace.

“That is different.”

“I thought we were easing each other into it,”

“Yes. We are.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “Are you alright with it now? Being affectionate with me?”

“I might need some more time,” he said. “Until I feel it is as natural as breathing. And then perhaps we may…”

He did not need to say it. He felt Daleon nod her head.

“I promised to take you into town once we settled in,” he said, wishing to change the subject.

She nodded eagerly. “Will we go today?”

“Yes.”

They stayed there for a while. Gab was sure Daleon could hear his heart pounding - but he wanted her to hear it. It was hers now, after all. God forbid he should ever say that out loud. Footfalls echoed across the landing of the second floor, faint, but enough for Gab to tense at them.

“Come now, our guests are waiting for us.”

She reluctantly pulled away with a pout on her lips. Gab offered his arm, and she clung to him, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked down past a servant who glanced at them happily as she carried towels to the rooms. It was not comfortable, and he ended up correcting her as they came into the dining hall. All eyes were on them, some in shock, and some fond.

“I never thought I’d see the day dear old Gab would be so smitten,” said Roush. “Marriage has truly changed you.”

Gab glared at him, and were it not for Daleon holding his arm so tightly, he would have lunged for the man and hit him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pushed the words through clenched teeth.

“You look like a lovely couple,” Dancel replied with a teasing tone.

“Now, now, before Gab gets angry,” said Roush. “I was going to propose we go on a hunt. Some fresh air will clear our minds before the big night tomorrow, yes?”

Gab heaved a sigh, grateful for the change in conversation. “I believe I’m a little ill-equipped for a hunt, but luckily,” he glanced at Daleon. “I had plans to be out today.”

The party left Esther Hall shortly after breakfast, riding on horseback to Edengrove’s modest town of Bertrand. There, life was predominantly rural and cozy. Commonly populated by the bourgeois, but still overseen by the handful of aristocrats, most of the duchy’s income came from farm work and occasional gardening services and goods. The lifestyle of domestic farming and the aesthetics of the period laid down by the previous king still influenced the town, with its clay-tiled roofs and cobblestoned bricks. Three farm mills were spotted on the horizon over a hill, one of which belonged to Gab’s family. The other two belonged to an earl and a count who lived in London. Gab saw that a few farm-masters tended to it in their absence. As Gab and his party walked and weaved through the shepherds and merchants, making their business in stalls or well-kept shops, cattle and flocks often crossed their path. Daleon thought it akin a fairy-land.

For the town, the sight of their solitary Duke was rare, and naturally, its denizens were abuzz at his presence and of his wife’s. No one approached their party, but they stared at them. Gab’s hold on Daleon’s arm tightened. “Do not stray far from me,” he whispered. His gaze casted wearily on the townsfolk, but if he had looked, Daleon had an amused smile on her face. “I am glued to your side, dear.”

Fauta and Roush disappeared into a shop with a swinging sign of a deer’s antlers attached to a plaque of wood that bore no name, but had the clear engraving of a gun. Beside it was a toy boutique, with stuffed animals and wooden soldiers lining the window. Daleon’s eyes drew to a particular toy: a wool-bunny with a pink bow. Dancel peered in with her.

“It looks just like the one I bought for you when you were little,” he said.

“Indeed it does. Will you buy it for me again?”

Dancel laughed. “I spoil you too much.”

“I jest. I’m well past the age of wanting stuffed animals.”

“You’re never too old for the enjoyments of your childhood. There are many who would willingly pay a hefty price to return to those days. But I suppose you are right. It will be less for you, and more for your future.” He gave Gab a knowing glance, before turning to join Roush inside the hunter’s shop at his behest.

Gab stared at the wool-y creature, barely noticing how Daleon slipped away from his hold for a moment to inquire with the shopkeeper. He cast a quick glance at her, then motioned for Keith to come to him.

After their brief patronage, the party rode for half an hour or so until they reached a clearing nearing a cliff-side. A fallen stone fort from some siege centuries ago lay in ruins near the edge of the rock. Its stone walls had all nearly crumbled, with the passing of time, save for a few foundational bricks that jutted out of the ground, blanketed in moss and other forms of wild flora thriving through its cracks. It barely had significance for them now, merely acting as a lonesome reminder of a past that no one there had any recollection of. Spanning seven acres near this ruined fort, was a forest home to tall and lush pine and birch trees where the gentry of Edengrove made as their hunting grounds. The wind howled at their arrival, sending a few birds fluttering off into the powder blue sky.

“Gabriel,” Fauta shouted, his voice ricocheted over the cliff. “Coming to join us?”

“And leave Daleon alone? You must think me daft.”

Fauta chuckled. “You are the epitome of devotion, dear cousin. Well, I suppose that leaves the four of us. Shall we make it a game?”

Roush perked at the suggestion. “A game of who shoots the most?”

It was here Daleon began to think that hunting was a ghastly thing. “The poor birds,” she muttered under her breath.

“If Mika was here, they wouldn’t hear the end of it,” added Gab. “Can’t help it if our monarchy finds it a sport.”

The gentlemen continued with their discussion. “We’ll split up in pairs,” said Fauta. “You can accompany your beloved Dancel, and I will be with my beloved Peggy.”

Daleon glanced at Peggy. After that unexpected morning, it was easy to tell then and there how they were affectionate with each other, perhaps even more than society was willing to realize. Their shy glances, the way they drew closer to each other when they thought they weren’t being observed, the way Peggy looked and felt like a different person. How mysterious their relationship was, and to such a passionate degree too. Why had Peggy not said anything about it?

“I’m not a very good shot,” Peggy replied. Fauta gave him a pat on the shoulder, and after deciding to regroup at the same spot after the next hour or two, their kills would be tallied, and the victor declared. The men wandered off into the forest, leaving Daleon and Gab to tend to themselves.

A small patch of daisies sprouted against the stone and grass near the ruins where the couple were expected to wait. Gab had been smart enough to bring a pocket book to read as he sat by the stones. Daleon gathered a small bundle of the daisies, and sat beside Gab as he read. With nimble fingers, she began to pick off their roots cleanly, until only the stems and the flowers remained. She took them by threes, and began braiding the stems. She added more and more to the braids until it began to form a small but sturdy rope with the flowers neatly arranged in a row. Gab watched her, admiring the way she worked.

“I used to make these crowns for Dancel and Ergon when we were little,” she said. "My mother and father too. It was one of the few things I learned from them, strangely enough.”

Gab closed his book. “This is the first time I’ve heard you mention your mother.”

“They are not too happy memories. I barely remember her now.”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

She shook her head. “I know not if she is alive or dead. My memories are…fuzzy.”

Fleeting images began to surface. A small row-house in the German country-side, dark emerald wallpaper, her and Ergon running up and down the steps in a game of chase, the strong smell of tobacco. Shouts. Quite a few of them. Something about money. Strange how she kept those memories at bay for so long. Gab must have realized how vague she was being. Did he think differently of her now?

He shrugged at her remark. “I suppose we are the same in not wishing to remember what once was.”

“But you had such a wonderful family, or at least so the servants say.”

“I did. And that is why it is too painful to remember.” Gab looked distant, staring beyond the rolling hills from where they sat and finding Bertrand in full view. The small red and brown-tiled roofs gave a sense of comfort, and further still - Esther Hall standing like a fort all its own. In many ways, this was kingdom. How frightened was Gab when his parents passed to realize all that was his responsibility?

“You must miss them terribly,” said Daleon.

He looked at her. “Do you miss yours?”

The answer caught in her throat. She did not want to say ‘yes’, but neither did she wish to say ‘no’.

“Regardless,” Gab took her hand and patted it. “Your past may not have been beautiful, but you are.”

She did not expect to hear that from him. Fire and sparks raced through her arm from where Gab held her hand. He kissed it, and held it close to his cheek. “We can make new memories with us, and our children.”

Her eyes must have been deceiving her. Was she still in bed, dreaming? “Were you secretly such an affectionate man this entire time?”

He looked up at her, his trademark look of contempt easily overthrown by the tomato-rednesss of his cheeks and ears. “You are my wife. I should be allowed to be affectionate with you whenever I please. Appropriately, of course.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Now I truly wish you had courted me…” What other delightful things could they have done, if they were as in love as they seemed to be? She found herself reminiscing a past that never existed.

“Please,” Gab rolled his eyes, the red began to fade. “If we had courted the traditional way, you would have likely tried to find some excuse to get me alone and kiss me all the same.”

He was right. “Am I…truly that predictable?”

“So you admit it?”

Having nothing to retort, Daleon returned to her task, pouting at first. But her discontent instantly grew into affection and adoration, that she grinned from ear to ear. They say together in silence, with nothing but the wind whistling through the blades of grass, setting dandelions in flight. Daleon quickly found rhythm in her work, and soon, she completed her crown, adorned to the brim with daisies.

“For you, my prince.” She got on her knees and placed it on his head, tucking his hair behind his ear.

He looked up at it and muttered a “Thank you.”

She leaned in to kiss him, but yelped at the sudden boom of a shot gun deep within the dense woods. Birds cawed and flew above their heads, retreating to the skies and over the mountains. Daleon put a hand to her chest, her heart pounding wildly against her sternum. Gab caught her, and pulled her close to him, sheltering her from whatever harm could befall her. He clicked his tongue.

“I doubt we’ll be able to enjoy each other’s company with them around,” he said. “Did you see how they teased us this morning?”

She laughed and cuddled up to him, savoring his warmth. He smelled of oak and pine, and she loved it so, she breathed deeply. “It’ll only be for one more day.” One day more before they could be alone - and have each other all to themselves. She wanted to slap herself. There she was being greedy again.

A few more gun shots went off, and their competition was well underway. “We could leave ahead of them,” said Gab. “I’m sure they won’t be looking for us.”

“Where will we go?”

“Well, we can stop by the town modiste and fit you for a new gown, and then perhaps the patisserie… Or perhaps we can simply return home and be alone for a while.”

She would have liked to stay and explore the town a little, but there was something in Gab’s gaze that made her think otherwise. Thoughts of the immediate morning and the night before seared her skin, and she could not help but flit her gaze lower to his lips.

“I’d like to go home.” She realized it was the first time she had ever used the term with Gab, and the notion sent her heart fluttering.

“Very well.”

Gab stowed his book away into his inner coat pocket. He scooped Daleon into his arms, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back, before standing up and walking towards his horse. It was not an easy feat with Daleon’s weight, but she lost her breath as he carried her so effortlessly. She felt like a princess staring up at her beautiful prince with his crown of daisies, about to ride off into the rolling hills towards their castle. Home.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

19 - Harmonious Desire

TW for brief depictions alluding to sex. Not the chapter you're looking for? Check the Masterlist!

Shooting fifteen to twenty arrows did wonders for the seething mind. Gab could only pity the poor target riddled with holes. Had it been a person, they would have been dead long ago, rotting to the ground with the unfortunate appearance of a Swiss cheese. He had not hit a bullseye since he started.

It was far from being a novelty, but he could not believe Fauta’s effrontery. How daft did a man have to be to openly discuss such frisky subjects in front of someone’s wife and both their families? More upsetting, perhaps, was Gab’s reaction to the query in front of Daleon, no less. He knew his outburst would strike a conversation between them in the foreseeable future, and the bow would not be there to save him then.

His feet grew cold as he heard crunching in the grass. It was Dancel.

“A most excellent shot, your grace.”

Gab stifled a breath of relief, and pulled another arrow from the quiver.

“Where is Daleon?” He asked.

“With your uncle, I think they have gone to see your parent’s graves.” Dancel made himself comfortable on one of the louvers overlooking the makeshift range. Daleon decorated it as a miniature carnival of sorts. A maypole with long pastel ribbons was near completion a few feet away, along with a few other games like knock-the-pins and ring toss. It reminded him of the spectacle in Mayfair. The king was bound to be pleased by it.

“And Fauta?”

Dancel asked a footman for a cup of coffee before answering. “Inside with the others. I’m sure the baron is giving him a scolding.”

Gab rolled his shoulders, extending his arm and drawing the string. “Better him than me.”

An arrow flew from the string and into the target, just an inch off the bullseye. He picked another arrow.

“Daleon will surely question you about it now that she knows,” said Dancel. “She does not relent when something piques her curiosity.”

Gab did not reply. He drew his breath, and with it, the string of the bow.

“Do you not desire children? I assumed you were of the traditional sort—“

“As if being a traditionalist is a crime.” Gab continued to pull, but relented after a thought. He relaxed his arms and lowered his bow. “Of course I’ve thought of it. I have a dukedom to maintain.”

Finding it fruitless now, he handed the bow to Keith, and turned to face Dancel. “Having children with someone who was arranged to marry me would be simple. Having children with Daleon complicates things.”

He saw an amused smirk. “How so?

“Well— I would not know how to discuss the implications of it. I dare not bring it up as a gentleman.”

“But you are her husband,” Dancel retorted. “It is your responsibility to initiate the engagement. You do wish to…engage with her?”

Embarrassment swelled within his chest, and most likely his face. He knew Dancel was on to him. “Should you really be asking such a question? Daleon is practically your daughter.”

Dancel shrugged, blatantly feigning ignorance. “I simply understand what it means to physically desire someone, and I do not believe it is something to be ashamed of, especially for a married man such as yourself. You do realize how many men and women covet your positions?”

“I am aware.” How odd for a non-traditional man to be concerned with traditional, albeit rather taboo, topics. He marched to where Dancel was and sat beside him. He hunched over, arms resting on his thighs with his hands clasped in prayer. They trembled from the fatigue of firing arrow after arrow.

“I do have feelings for her,” he said. The confession came with the utmost awareness that Daleon’s affections, consistent and persistent as they were, deserved to be reciprocated. How could he not with the way she looked at him? In the way she kissed him every morning and night?

“If I deny it any longer, I might drive myself mad.” He ran his hands across his face.

“Then speak with her plainly, your grace. Daleon is anything but timid.”

“You make it sound so simple,”

“It is. You are simply terrible at making yourself transparent with your affections. What happens next, if it does happen, is…natural.”

Gab knew he was right, and that terrified him.

The day passed as quietly as it could have with guests, and Daleon was a far better hostess than Gab could ever be. After dinner, she played a few tunes on the pianoforte as the men took their brandy and whiskey. Even Ainsworth indulged in a glass or two. Everyone knew every song she played, and hummed or sang merrily to it. Gab only watched from the corner of the room, admiring his wife, and quietly sipping at his own glass. It was a sight oddly reminiscent of both of their childhoods - of families gathering around a warm hearth without a single worry in the world. As Gab reluctantly wished to admit it, it was a pleasant, heart-warming feeling.

But even with all the festivities that transpired, Daleon could not keep a smile on her face for long. It was obvious to anyone that she was distant, and Gab could not decipher why. When Ainsworth excused himself to retire for the evening, the rest followed, agreeing that they had enough for one day, and the journey had worn them quite a bit. Daleon took Gab’s arm, and they walked hand in hand past long and seemingly winding hallways to their bedroom. The familiar silence coddled them. She had not uttered a word, something Gab felt was very unlike her.

It wasn’t until later, when the servants came to assist their changing into night-robes, did she finally speak.

“I wish Ergon was here,” she said. She wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he was eating well, if someone was taking care of him on his journey.

Gab knew his words were futile. What did he know? “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

She only hummed in acknowledgment.

“Leave us.” Gab commanded for the second time that day. At once, Keith snapped his fingers and all the servants left in an instant. He was already dressed in his shirt and pajamas, but Daleon still had her stays left over her chemise. She flushed as she turned to him, arms covering her chest as best she could. “I- I haven’t…”

In the dimmed light, with the shadows shading her, she was beautiful. And it was not the first time he truly thought so.

“I’ll do it.” The words were out of him before he even thought of it. He got up from his seat as Daleon turned to keep herself modest from him. He undid the knots and ribbons of her stays, careful not to pull too harshly. When it came loose, he quickly fetched her nightgown, strewn carefully over the back of a chair, and covered her shoulders with it. She could have finished by herself, but Gab did not want to leave her. It was a strange, enigmatic pull that kept his hands resting gingerly on her shoulders while she slipped her arms through the sleeves, catching a brief glimpse of smooth fair skin. It was as if he had not seen her getting undressed and redressed in front of him. He did not move even after she finished.

“Gabriel? What’s wrong?”

As if released from a trance, he let go. “Ergon will be fine,” he said, changing the subject. “He’s your brother. He fights well, and does not concede easily.”

“You’re being…oddly affectionate with me.”

There was a thought hanging between them, they knew what it was or at least had an idea.

“I suppose I am.”

It was Daleon’s turn to be silent. His reassurance utterly moved her, but it only raised another concern. They began to settle for the night, tucking themselves under the duvet. Lying on their backs, they stared at the ceiling together, at the ornate moldings and fading colors of decades old paint.

“Gabriel?”

“Yes?”

“Have we… missed a step in our marriage?”

Gab turned onto his side. He saw Daleon’s face, worry etched into her expression. She turned to face him too. There was certainly no escaping it now.

“We haven’t missed anything,” he answered, straight and almost to the point. “We simply have not made the next step.”

“And what happens when we do not take that step?”

He sat up, leaning against the headboard. “To put it simply, it means we will not have children.”

Alarmed, she sat up with him. “I always thought they came naturally with marriage—“

Gab pressed his lips tightly. “They do not.”

“Why have you not told me?”

“Because it is an intimate thing.” He looked at her apologetically. “I have yet to be accustomed to your frivolous affections, how much more…consummating.”

The very word was enough to twist his gut in knots. “Do not misunderstand, Daleon,” he went on, taking her hands in his. “I am past worrying about the circumstances which led us to this very moment. You are my wife. I accepted that long ago.”

He let the words sit, and slowly, in the dimming lights, she seemed to glow. He swallowed the fear in his throat and pushed himself to speak - to be plain.

“I want to be careful. I am afraid of doing it wrong. What if I hurt you? I especially do not wish for us to consummate our marriage simply because Fauta brought it up.”

“But if Fauta hadn’t brought it up, when would you have said anything?”

“I was hoping to discuss it when you decided we should have children. It would have given me time to steel myself…”

Daleon scooted closer to him, taking his arm, and wrapping herself around it. How childish, Gab thought, and yet he did not recoil. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Why had he never noticed them before?

“How many would you want?”

Gab felt his cheeks warm. “Children? Well—“

It was a genuine question.

“One is too lonely,” he said at last. “Two might lead to conflict in terms of inheritance. I would be happy with three.”

The answer and the accompanying justification surprised Daleon. She could not fight the smile on her face. “So you have thought about it?”

“Of course I have.” Gab turned his face away. “I knew I’d marry eventually, but I simply did not think it would be you.”

Daleon reached out for his chin with her long and slender fingers. Turning his face towards her, they gazed into each other’s eyes - a darkened sea they were both willing to drown in, only glimmering with the dying embers and wicks of the flames in the corners of their chambers. Their breaths, short and ragged, mingled and warmed in the inch of space between them.

“And now?” Daleon’s voice wavered.

“Now, I have want for nothing - but you.”

Oh, how she loved him. Too stunned to speak, Daleon leaned up and kissed him. Gab’s breath hitched as she did. Their lips were softer and more malleable, molding into each other like they were made to be connected. Parting suddenly became difficult. Tonight was different, and they both knew it.

“Is it frightening, consummating a marriage?” Her breath tickled his face and made the hairs on his neck stand.

“Not frightening,” he said, brushing his nose to hers. Thank God they were alone. “But I have heard it will be a little painful on your part.”

“How so?”

“Daleon—“

“I must know, Gabriel.” She kept him close. “If I am to be the mother of your children, and God knows I want to, you must tell me.”

Gab needed a moment to answer. He looked straight ahead, almost into an unfathomable distance, pondering how best to explain it. Daleon, on the other hand, was now insatiably curious. After that kiss? She only wanted him more and more. It was surging deep within her belly, spreading outward like the effects of a warm cup of tea.

“When we do it,” Gab began. “You and I will be connected physically.”

“Like a dance?”

“Of sorts.” He winced at his own indecent thoughts, surging through his mind as he looked at her. “We will be connected…“

He knew he was not going to be able to properly say what he needed to say. He needed to be clearer - even if it cost him his pride as a gentleman.

“In between…our legs.”

Daleon’s eyes followed his as he looked down, and when she saw where he was referring to, she almost shrunk onto herself, squeezing her thighs together. There was a surprisingly pleasant pulse that shocked her - and then nothing. That had to be part of it.

“Down there?”

Embarrassment was evident in the couple - but they had come too far to retreat now. “You will be connected to me,” her gaze flitted down towards him. “In the same place?”

“Yes.”

Daleon’s mind raced. This was dangerous. This newfound knowledge was dangerous. She tried to picture it with little success. He was going to touch her there? The more she thought of it, the more her curiosity piqued. What was more, the sensation returned with a gnawing vengeance, eating away at her stomach. She almost wanted to test it for herself.

“Daleon,”

The call of her name snapped her from her reverie. Gab’s hand was on her cheek, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her cheekbone.

“I understand if you are frightened,” he said. “We do not have to do this now.”

She reached for his hand, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm. “I am not frightened,” she whispered. “I only wonder…perhaps, we can ease each other into it?”

His gaze acute gaze darkened, and Daleon felt her stomach lurch at its ferocity.

“Yes,” Gab whispered, headily, closing in on her. “That is plausible.”

Daleon caved, pressing her lips against his with such force it nearly knocked their heads together. Secretly delighted at the acceptance of what was to come, Gab pulled her close until their chests were pressed to the other’s, the only thing shielding them from each other was the thin fabric of their nightwear. The contact left very little to the imagination, and Gab could feel hunger in him rising, as did Daleon.

Silly how such a childish kiss ignited so much desire.

What happened next could only be described as “fireworks.” Daleon was a fool to think all their kisses before this one were intimate. Gab caressed her waist, hands sprawling over the small of her back. She could feel power in his kiss, domineering yet gentle - and then he started kissing her jaw and down, further down. She tensed and relaxed simultaneously, and instinctually her hand ran through his hair, coaxing him to do more. Gab left a trail of kisses down the column of her neck, peppered them over her collar bone, and every expanse of exposed skin her chemise could allow, and she felt it like raw heat and lightning surging down into her belly and betwixt her thighs in the most precious of places. Gab was no better, feeling his blood boil underneath his nightshirt. He was sure his back was sweating, but he didn’t dare to move. For all he knew, he had already crossed a line, and he would not dare to cross the point of no return, yet.

Daleon began to reciprocate the intensity of his kisses, surging towards him with a blazing passion - one that she didn’t know she kept so deep within her, now overflowing from the cup in her heart. Their kisses became more open-mouthed, desperate, and famished not for sustenance, but an ethereal feeling that could only be found within each other. Gab was naturally receptive of them, meeting with his own demure (or rather, embarrassed) affections. He sighed in between their kisses, moaning her name like a prayer. Daleon gently caressed his neck, wondering if he would feel the same things she did when he kissed her there. Her hand trailed down his chest, over his nightshirt, where she could see soft dewy skin from the sheerness of the fabric. She went lower past his stomach, before resting on the lines of the waistband of his slacks. She played with the hem of his pants, startling Gab. She kept at it, teasingly tugging. He grabbed her wrist, squeezing it tightly.

“Not yet.” He panted. “It’s too soon. I want…to kiss you more. I must kiss you more.”

She was trapped in Gab’s embrace yet again, but the heat from before began to ebb slightly, settling into comfort, and a nice steady rhythm. They kissed lazily, and more open-mouthed, giving each other a taste for the future. When they finally parted for air, they were dizzy in each other’s arms. Gab dragged them both under the sheets, onto their pillows. And there they stayed, counting their breaths as they reeled from their newfound ‘evening’ delight. Sleep blanketed over them, and with it, dark and sensual dreams of each other, touching and writhing from sensations they never thought possible; sensations they would seek and covet in secret.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

18 - Newfound Delights

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My dearest Dancel,

I shall not apologize for the absence of news. My life in Edengrove has been quite eventful. Everything is new, but there is a strange sense of familiarity. It is as if I have not left our summerhouse in Somersetshire, and yet strained as our marital circumstances have been, I am content, and found purpose in my duties as duchess and wife.

Gabriel is ever the tender gentleman, and in many ways, he reminds me of you and Ergon. Lady Nightbloom has taken her fair share of liberal expressions of Gabriel's character, but who he truly is is a secret and a privilege only I am able to witness. And what joy it is to be married to such a delightful, chaste character. Of course, his usual stoicism and judgmental attitude are ever present in the business, which he holds quite frequently during the day - but when there is nothing left to judge, he is gentile and passionate, as much as he wishes to hide the latter.

I do so wish to tell you more, but I fear a letter will be too short an opportunity. Which is why I invite you and the Stewart family to visit us post haste, by Friday at the latest. I know it has not been long since I left, but I hope you will come.

Ever your starling,

Daleon Driscol

The entirety of Esther Hall was in a delighted uproar in the anticipation of their guests. All throughout the house, footsteps thundered to and fro, carrying materials, decorations, and construction supplies for the upcoming celebration. It was a much different atmosphere compared to when Daleon first arrived, and her worry for being returned to London after her marriage was well past her then. Daleon wondered why she ever feared it at all. Gab had not pushed her away, and they quickly grew accustomed to sharing the same quarters, and living together in general. In response, she became bolder in her advances. She kissed his cheek every morning upon waking or seeing him if he was awake before her. He was understandably apprehensive of them at first, even in private, but she could see how he slowly began to recoil less, and lean more towards her.

And it was in that gradual acceptance of her affection, and the slow reciprocation of it, that she found herself in an unexpected predicament of simultaneous content and discontent. The content came from being able to express her affection once a day; the discontent stemmed from wanting more.

Heaven forbid she started thinking her marriage was beginning to dull so soon (it was not). But lately, on the occasion she closed her eyes, she pictured Gab - beautiful, stunning, and gentle as he was with his affections, doing more than the minimalist reciprocations of her affections. Where could those lips and hands touch? What wonders of their united souls could be uncovered if they were a little more engaging?

But such vulgar thoughts had no place in the mind of a duchess.

The ball served as a good distraction from her wandering implicit thoughts, and the staff shared the sentiment.

"A ball requested by the king is one thing, but his grace has not allowed visitors since his parents’ passing," said Mrs. Warrick. She and Daleon were in the large banquet hall that was to be used for the evening soiree. The flowers had yet to be delivered, but Daleon wanted a head start on the other decorations and party favors.*

"That is only to be expected, Mrs. Warrick," said Daleon proudly. "If I do not take action, Gabriel will only be brooding in his study for the rest of his days. A man of his youth should be enjoying his time with family and acquaintance." They tied lavender ribbons to small wicker baskets woven by some of the craftsmen. "Did the former duchess not hold gatherings?"

"Only a few, your grace," Mrs. Warrick admitted. "There was only a handful before Lady Emily's condition worsened."

"What was her ailment? If I may ask?"

"A sickness in the lungs. There was no cure. Lord Isaac tried everything he could afford." There was a flash of pained nostalgia on the headmistress' face. "It robbed our mistress of her joyful youth, and it was hard for the young master to watch his mother so sick. It hardened him into adulthood so quickly." She passed a few of the finished baskets to a maid before continuing. "I've told him time and time again in the absence of his parents that they would not wish their bright and clever boy to be cooped up in this place in solitude."

Then she turned to Daleon and smiled. "You remind us very much of our late Lady Emily. And we are only so happy to see the young master cared for."

Daleon could only smile modestly, not uttering a word.

"Oh goodness, look at me. My apologies, your grace. I spoke out of turn."

"Nonsense, Mrs. Warrick. I doubt Gabriel would ever confess to me of his past. I am honored."

Speaking of Gab, he marched in, a scowl on his face. "Daleon, why have you purchased multiple large canopy tents? I believed we were only having the soiree in the evening."

"Dear, do try not to frown so much," she said while smoothing the creases between his brows with her fingers. He relaxed under her touch. "You'll age faster. And why can't we have an outside canopy? We'll never know if our guests will arrive early, and they'd have much more fun outside than in. I've purchased pall mall equipment too. Besides, it will establish your reputation for the better by being a welcoming host."

"You mean our reputation," he picked up a basket and inspected it mindlessly. "Which is all well." He sighed, still reluctant at the idea of having guests.

She hung her head to hide her flushed face. "Our earlier guests should be arriving soon," she said.

"Ah, yes. More people to parade on my quiet recluse."

"They're our family."

"I'm not against them coming,"

"Except for Fauta, I presume."

"He knows no tact and is sure to try and make advances on the maids, if not you. It has happened before."

She tried to play coy. Though in truth, she was elated at Gabriel's words. "Well, in that case, I shall gladly glue myself to your side."

"I do not believe that will improve things, but I would want you to stay close to me as much as possible."

Now, she could no longer hide the smile on her face. It grew on her more and more until she was smiling silly and she wanted to let out a squeal of glee.

"To protect you from Fauta," Gab reasoned against the evident redness of his own face. "Stop smiling."

She pressed the back of her hand to her lips to hide it, but it was too late. She did not think in her lifetime that a man several years her age could be so darling, and her heart swelled at the notion that he was her husband.

"Leave us," he suddenly commanded. Mrs. Warrick clapped her hands, stopping the servants from their decorating, and quickly fled the ballroom, closing the doors on their way out. Gab bit his lip, clearly displeased.

Daleon's smile disappeared. "I'm sorry," she said. "I did not mean to embarrass you."

"Be that as it may. I meant what I said. I don't want him near you." He reached out his hand, brushed his knuckles over her cheek, and held it there.

She swallowed, trying to control her breathing and rapidly beating heart. "I shall be on my guard."

A knock came at the doors. It opened, and in popped the head of a maid. The couple pulled away instantly, discreetly straightening their clothes. "Your grace, there is a carriage outside."

A dark and brooding carriage rolled up on the front steps of Esther Hall. Dancel and Peggy stepped down, and Daleon ran to embrace them both. "Where is Ergon?" she asked.

'"He does not wish to be disturbed," Dancel replied. "He has informed me of where he is, but has instructed me not to tell you or anyone else. He wishes you well."

To think Ergon would ever deny himself the opportunity to see her. "For all our time together as siblings, this may be the first where I am unable to decipher his intentions." She stopped herself from shedding a tear. "Has my marriage to Gabriel truly made him so distraught?"

"He has always hoped that you would stay with him forever."

"I know that," she said, rubbing her hands to keep herself from worrying. "I only wish I could solace him now and make him understand. We don't have to be apart just because I'm married. We are still—"

"I assure you starling, he is safe." Dancel took her hands and held them. "He will return when he is ready to face you. Give him time."

She nodded, squeezed his hands in return, and thought to change the subject. "But what of you now?"

Dancel smiled. "I am not alone. Zaheer has always been great company, as is Peggy when he is not hiding in his home and writing his book. And Roush calls on me almost every day."

Over his shoulder, Daleon saw Roush emerge from the carriage, smiling and tipping his hat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peggy frown.

Lord Ainsworth and Fauta arrived a few minutes later, just in time for tea. They arranged for a table under the canopy of one of the newly purchased tents. Sandwiches and biscuits, scones with clotted cream, petit fours and Victoria sponges were stacked neatly on tiered trays accompanied by citrus tea brewing in pots. The scent put everyone at ease as they gathered around. Fall was almost upon them, and the leaves in the trees began to change their hue.

"Never in a million years did I imagine both of our families to share a table," said Ainsworth with a laugh. He began to look worse for wear, and it should have been with the news of Jellie being sent to Lairvania to meet with Prince Lakas, and as much as Ainsworth wished to be with his precious granddaughter, his weary bones would not last the trip, and Mika therefore was absent from their gathering in Ainsworth's place.

"It is all very exciting, isn't it?" he continued. "But surely you did not invite us here simply to have tea.” He shifted in his seat, turning towards Daleon.

“Does the lady of the house have something to say?"

She did not know whether to praise the older gentleman for his keenness, but the looks from the other men at the table were oddly expectant of her. Perhaps because she was the only lady at the table, but she had not an inkling of what they wished to hear from her.

"Well, I suppose I shall tell you," she said, oblivious to their expectations. "The king has requested a ball to be held in his honor. I invited all of you here a little early, to settle in ahead of the other guests we had planned."

She reached her hand out to Gab's. He took it instantly. "And I know it has only been a short window of time, but I wanted Gab and I to see our families again.”

A cacophony of sighs escaped their guests; some relieved, some disappointed. Daleon pretended not to notice.

Fauta raised his cup, gazing at the couple. "In other words, you have not consummated your marriage, have you?"

Gab nearly choked on his tea, spurting some before a fit of violent coughing. Tea spilled from his cup, and Daleon quickly wiped it with a napkin. A maid came to assist.

When things were sorted, Gab sat down and glared at the viscount. "I have only been married a little over a week," he pointed out. Daleon tried to calm him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Gabriel,”

"And even if we had, did it not once cross your mind that she- we would not be expecting such a thing?"

"A week is too long if you ask me,” said Fauta. “You have the diamond of your season as your wife."

"By circumstance!" Gab glanced at her, eyes flickering as he realized what his words may have implied. "Pleasant circumstance. That does not concern you."

The other guests glared at him with disdain. Dancel and Ainsworth especially. Their icy glares almost matched.

"Indeed, it doesn't." Fauta slunk slightly into his seat, sipping the rest of his tea in silence.

"My married life will remain private, and that is all I will say on the matter." Gab was inconsolable at this stage. He clicked his tongue. "Keith,"

The valet approached the table.

"Have the archery range set up. I need to clear my head."

Gab set his tea down with a loud clack, stood up and marched in the direction of the courtyard, west of Esther Hall.

Daleon glared at Fauta, baffled by his audacity, however she was still rather confused by what had transpired. Their marriage was an imperfect subject to discuss, that much was certain. Had she been wrong to believe that it was? No. Gab was more important. Shaking her head, she thought to go after Gab, but Ainsworth stopped her.

"Your grace, might I ask if you would take me further into the gardens?" he said. "There is someone I wish to see."

She looked at him, puzzled. “Who?”

Ainsworth offered Daleon his arm, and together they ventured a little ways ahead from their party. He picked a few daisies along the many rows of blooms, gathering them into a small bouquet.

“I should assume his grace has shown you around?”

“Not the full extent of the gardens, my lord,” she confessed. “But even from the windows upstairs, I can very well see their splendor.”

“Well, I pray my memory is not too faulty, but there is something of significance just by that willow tree.”

Daleon had seen the tree, but she always found its placement odd. From the higher floors, one could see how it stood askew from the rest of the garden. The garden centered around the tree, and the decorative flora stemmed from it as if it were the core of its beauty. Its massive boughs, ominous yet serene, beckoned them closer. Its long tendrils of leaves were perfectly parted, like an entryway into another world. When they neared, Daleon saw stone piercing through the root - a gravestone, and engraved upon it were the names Emily Stewart Driscol and Isaac Driscol.

Despite his wearying age, Ainsworth knelt, and offered the daisies, simply letting them stand on the moss-covered stone. He offered a quick prayer, crossed himself, and stood.

“You must forgive Gabriel for his outburst, and Fauta too for his…spontaneity.”

Daleon approached the stone, gingerly running her fingers along the curves. She thought to send for a servant to clean it. “On the contrary, I think it shows how close they are.”

“Most of my nieces and nephews bore singletons. We agreed it best to bring them all together so they could view each other as brothers and sisters. But Gabriel always preferred his own company, or rather, he preferred the company of adults.” He smiled fondly in memory. “He always used to say we had more interesting conversations, but Emily always said he never understood a word.”

She thought it sad to hear stories about Gab from other people. It was certainly not a crime or something to find flaw in. However; “I do so wish he would be a little more open with me. I want to know what he thinks of me, if I am making him happy…”

Another thought crossed her mind.

“My lord, I find it incredibly ludicrous to ask you something, despite our very brief connections,”

“My child, you may ask me anything.”

“I suppose these words may not fully be credible considering they’re Fauta’s but, what did he mean by ‘consummating a marriage’?”

Ainsworth did not react, though his gaze showed him pondering how to respond.

“Marriage is the physical and spiritual binding between man and woman,” he said. “When you married in church, that completed the spiritual binding. Consummating the marriage is the physical part of it.” His eyes twitched a little, and Daleon did not know if he was unnerved or mortified.

“It is not as easy as I make it sound. Some consummate their marriage on the night of their wedding, but others take their time. Do not doubt Gabriel’s love for you. It is there. It has only chosen to manifest itself differently.”

She worried her bottom lip. “And what if we do not consummate our marriage?’

“That,” he gave her a knowing smile. “Is something you must ask your husband.”

As Daleon tried to fathom what any of it meant, she wondered: had Fauta presented her with an opportunity or a conundrum that could threaten her marriage?

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

17 - Roses

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The following morrow, Gab awoke to a bouquet of pink carnations in front of him. A quick blink cleared the morning haze, and he saw not flora beside him, but his wife. It was a strange feeling, calling and thinking of her as such. Stranger even was knowing that he would see her face every night before he slept, and every morning when he rose. It was not a sensational feeling, but his character loathed an instantaneous sort of change. He needed to be eased into it - which was clearly not what happened with Daleon. Although he confessed the brunt of his fears to her the night before, it did not signify the end to an indescribable feeling within him - the feeling of having a permanent companion when he believed he would never have one after his parents’ passing. The outburst had alleviated part of his worries, but the action needed to prove their value was still the task ahead of them.

But for now, in Daleon’s peaceful slumber, Gab looked at her and allowed the effects of his matrimony to consume his thoughts. Their noses almost touched, and he watched the steady rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. She was beautiful in her serenity, and he understood then the privilege, if not fortune, he had marrying a woman like her.

Had things been different, perhaps he could have fallen in love with her. Perhaps, he still could.

Daleon's awakening interrupted his thoughts. She looked as surprised as he was seeing him in the same bed.

“What is it?” He asked.

“For a moment, I thought you were an angel.”

She reached out her hand and caressed his cheek, and Gab would be lying if the act didn’t send his heart fluttering. Her sense of romance could rival even the most affluent of poets. Their marriage now seemed like a rite of passage to these tender touches and intimate moments without restraint, and such pleasant notions were they. But damn him if he openly admitted his enjoyment of them.

Daleon moved closer and kissed his cheek.

“Do you intend to make that frequent?”

“I intend to make it consistent.”

He could only heave a sigh as Daleon kissed him again. It was not one of disdain, but growing newfound content.

~~

They drove a few hours more until Edengrove was well in sight. Daleon almost pressed her face against the carriage window, trying to take in all the sights and sounds of the town. Gab grabbed her by the arm and gently reminded her of her role as duchess, and she needed to act like it. Daleon complied, but held tightly to Gab’s hand as they drove past the modest houses and shops.

Esther Hall’s ivory facade came into view, and the carriage pulled into the long driveway. Already, Gab could make out the silhouettes of his staff lined up along the steps. It was not typical of his servants to do so, but perhaps at the news of him having a wife, he was not surprised at them having arranged for it. His staff was undoubtedly curious about their new duchess. Their interest and keen were smartly hidden behind stoic faces, save for his butler Keith and Mrs. Warrick, the head of the house, who smiled at their arrival.

The portly woman curtsied to them both. “Welcome home, your grace.”

“Yes,” Gab looked to Daleon. “We are home.”

He had no doubt Esther Hall would be more than suitable for Daleon, but he did not anticipate her energy and eagerness to be akin to that of a child’s. She stared up at the rooms and the high ceilings with stars in her eyes. He allowed her to wander, merely holding her hand as he was being dragged along. He heard a few laughs from the servants as they passed by, and was well aware of their glances.

“Daleon,” he almost hissed. “Control yourself.”

They walked across the vast halls and back, stopping just before they turned a corner. Daleon looked up at a family portrait of Gab and his father standing next to each other, and nestled in the middle of them, seated, was his mother.

“It was the last painting my father had made of the three of us before he died,” he said. His mother looked healthier then, but Gab’s memory did not betray him. The portrait was altered to hide his mother’s sickly appearance, but maybe that was how they wanted her to be remembered. The same was for him, for his past self looked naive, but cheerful, and still had the foreign ability to smile.

“You look just like your mother,” said Daleon.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I would have liked to meet them.” She squeezed his hand.

He squeezed it in return. “I would have liked them to meet you too.” He paused before adding, “We will have to commission a portrait of us as well. We can hang it beside this one.”

“Shall we ask Dancel to do it?”

“Of course.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but the faces in the painting looked enraptured by their presence. He could not help but wonder how his parents would have felt, seeing him now as a married man.

Much was seen and explained in the time of Daleon’s exploration, so much so that the couple had become famished from their walking about. Still, Gab thought it satisfying to have introduced Daleon to most of his home, or rather, their home. Luncheon was arranged for them, and upon arriving at the dining hall, the table was set with their plates on either end. Daleon frowned at this, but made no complaints.

“This will not do, Mrs. Warrick,” said Gab. “Daleon is to be seated beside me at meal times, regardless of the absence of guests.”

Mrs. Warrick showed no sign of the change affecting her. “My sincerest apologies, your grace.” She instructed a few maids to move the plates and glasses to the seat next to Gab. Immediately, he noticed the way her expression changed to one of joy, and nearly uncontrollable giddiness.

“You did not have to rearrange it,” she said. Her faint smile tried to reassure him.

Gab shrugged. “On the contrary, I see no reason to change what has always been tradition in this house.” He glanced to Mrs. Warrick to prove his point. While the head of house bowed her head once more in apology, he could make out the slight upward curl of her lips.

A footman pulled Daleon’s seat and waited for her to sit. “Did you and your family sit beside each other at meals?”

“We did,” he replied, taking his seat at the head of the table. “As my wife, I hope you will continue in that tradition with me.”

“I don’t mind it at all, your grace. In fact, I admire it. Dancel always said it was good for a family to sit and eat together.”

A family. Yes, they were family now. “I am surprised to see that we agree on something for once.”

The meal proceeded in silence, but the extra sounds of cutlery gently clacking against china distracted him. He frequently glanced at Daleon as she ate. It had been ages since Gab had someone to share meals with, but the idea that Daleon, who would sit beside him, now made his stomach churn. He knew he would get used to it eventually.

Keith abruptly marched in halfway through their meal, carrying a silver tray that held aloft a letter.

“For you, sir.”

“A congratulatory letter already?” Gab knew he had many things to attend to since his absence, but surely some could wait a little longer without having to send him a letter of urgency. He paused to take the letter from Keith. The royal seal was on the envelope. He tore it open, and quickly read the words within.

“It’s from His Majesty,” he said. “He wants to hold a ball, here.”

He must have sent it as soon as they left for London to arrive so close to their own. The man was tactless and impatient. Gab suspected he was only proposing the soiree to exploit something of his marriage to Daleon - another one of his social spectacles. And not only that, he anticipated something else was coming, and he did not want to think about what it could be, let alone entertain it.

His nose twitched. “I’ll write to him,” he said. “Even a king must learn to leave a man alone on his honeymoon.”

Daleon put a hand on his arm. “But Gabriel, a soiree will bring some income to the duchy.”

“That is perceptive and practical, yes, but it will take some work, which frankly I have no time for.”

She smiled at him. “Then may I arrange it? I think you’ll find my event planning capabilities of use to you.”

For a moment, Gab looked uncertain. Then, he shook his head. “I am adamantly against the idea of inviting nearly the entire ton to my house.”

Daleon pursed her lips, if only to hide the evident frown growing on her face.

He tried not to let it affect him. “I would reconsider arranging it so long as it was in London.”

“But an opportunity for your duchy to make money would be greater if it was held here, would it not?”

He stopped himself. He did not want to argue with Daleon over a social gathering of all things, and it was the king’s request. The smart decision would be to hold the ball. And really, what harm could a social gathering bring? He took one deep breath. Marriage changed a man, but was it supposed to happen this quickly?

He put his hand atop Daleon’s. “If you are to arrange it, at least ask for my opinion on the expenses. I don’t want things in excess, even if it is a ball.”

Daleon grinned from ear to ear. “Then I shall see to it this afternoon. We should decide on a theme first.”

He almost wanted to curse himself for being soft. Instead, he sighed and returned to his meal. “I have not the faintest idea,”

“Something simple then. Maybe flowers?”

“That is decent.”

With a newfound burst of energy, Daleon quickly finished her meal. She stood from her seat, and kissed Gab on his cheek. “Shall we go into town this afternoon to make some arrangements with the modiste?”

Gab finished the last bite off his plate. “I‘ll need to write my reply to the king first, and plan my correspondence for guests.”

“Then I shall help you. It will be faster if we write them together.”

Her words made him feel queasy. The entire exchange was a first for him, and he did not know what the appropriate reaction was. He supposed he felt grateful that he would no longer have to take on the superficial brunt of society by himself.

“Very well. I appreciate the assistance,” he decided to say. “It will be the first time the duchy has had a ball in fifteen years.”

“It is a duchess’ duty to help her duke lead a society. And parties are my forte.” She ran her fingers along the lapel of his coat, straightening it. “You need not worry about the king fussing over your attendances, I’ll take care of them.”

She excitedly began to tug on his arm, and while Gab hated to be rushed, he stood, and took Daleon to his study. He had barely gathered his parchments and quills when Daleon was all jittery, and sat herself atop Gab’s desk while he rummaged for his envelopes.

“Isn’t it exciting, Gabriel?” She held her face, but it did nothing to hide the smile growing on her lips. “It will be our first ball together.”

“We are a society that thrives on the successful arrangement of balls, it is nothing to be too excited about. And do come off the table. You are a duchess, are you not?”

Daleon did not listen, and threw her arms around Gab’s neck. “I could kiss you again.”

Again? “Exactly how many times in a day do you intend to be… affectionate with me?”

She jutted out her bottom lip. “It will depend on my mood.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth, nuzzling into him. Almost on instinct, he held the small of her back, eyes cautiously gazing towards the open door of the study. Heaven forbid what his staff would think if they saw him being affectionate with his wife. That was not a crime, but some etiquette still needed to be maintained.

“Make it quick.”

When Daleon kissed him again, he closed his eyes and thought of his father and mother. He remembered them being affectionate too - sometimes too affectionate. Maybe his tolerance and desire for it was hereditary. It truly was a gentle, simple, but freeing sensation. To think, he nearly handed her over to Tomo. But she did not choose him, she chose Gab.

“Daleon?”

“Hmm?”

“I believe I am beginning to understand what it is you feel for me.”

Her pupils dilated in an instant. Almost black, beady eyes stared up at him in wonder.

Their next kiss was different. It was deeper, and there was something more starved about it, as if the act of affection at this level was far from satisfactory. Gab knew what it was, but he dared not name it, dared not relive a certain dream he had. He only continued to chase the tenderness of her lips, and the warmth of her body under his palms, and pressed dangerously close to his. He did not wish to take pleasure in the notion that Daleon wanted him too.

Daleon clawed at the back of his coat, and cupped his face, wanting to pull him deeper into her. She trembled as he did. And there was an instant shared thought between them, of not wanting to stop, or be separated; a shared thought of more. He forced himself away from her, hands firmly gripping her arms to make them both stop. They heaved, soothing a mutual lightheadedness sprung from such indecent acts.

“Is it strange that this doesn’t feel enough?” said Daleon.

Gabriel did not want to vocalize his agreement. This was not the time, nor the place. “We will have a more appropriate discussion at a later date,” he said, but he could not see when or where in the near future he would have such an intimate discussion.

All he knew then was that his leisurely days in a dukedom, once unbridled by change, were coming to an end. And in their place - an emergent burning desire.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

16 - Cotillon of Thorns

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The wedding was, by definition, romantic. It was a small and intimate ceremony in the chapel of St. John, with only their immediate families in attendance. Bouquets of white lilies and roses lined the pews, and white ribbons hung from the wooden beams of the ceiling, almost acting like curtains over the altar.

It was dream-like seeing Gab stand there, waiting for her. His hair had been combed and slicked back, with his suit fitting perfectly square on his broad shoulders. Daleon would have wished to say she floated on air knowing that she married the man who truly held her affections, but with the circumstances clouding over her head, all she felt in the moment of exchanging vows was solemnity. Gab looked gently into her eyes when they exchanged rings, and held her hand as the parishioner announced them husband and wife. Her first kiss as Daleon Driscol was chaste, simple, and tender. Yet, she did not feel any sort of euphoric jubilation from it. In fact, she felt nothing. Try as she could, she could not read Gab’s face, and the defeated sigh he let out only reminded her of her place as his wife by circumstance.

She was a fool to believe that any of this would have ended happily.

The reception at the Morningstar estate was different. It was perhaps the liveliest their home had ever been. The music and clinking of glasses filled her ears and overwhelmed her. The whirlwind of guests approached her and Gab like bees to honey, offering their congratulations with such enthusiasm - it was as if the scandal never happened.

“The ton truly has a small mind,” Gab mumbled to her after they finished a few more congratulatory greetings. “I am glad we will be leaving them soon.”

She offered him a faint smile, before looking a little further out, watching Dancel and Roush talk with other guests. Ergon was nowhere to be found.

In a few hours' time, she would be leaving this world behind and stepping into a new one. She did not know how to say a proper goodbye, or if she should say one at all. She could always return to visit, and this would always be her home, but it felt strange to have her horizons suddenly broaden. There was excitement and fear, and most notably, a husband to love and cherish. If only the butterflies in her chest gave her some reassurance.

“We should dance,” said Gab.

She did not feel like dancing. “Might I freshen up first?”

Excusing herself from her husband’s side, she pushed past a few party goers and up to the second floor, retreating to the familiar pink pastels of her own room. A great number of her things had already been moved, and the knowledge made her heart sink. She sat on the loveseat at the foot of her bed and heaved a sigh. Nothing had gone to plan - and she felt oddly sick.

“Daleon?”

Dancel stood in the doorway. He must have followed her. “It is unlike you to be away from your adoring public.”

“I thought I’d be happier,” she admitted. “But I only feel…frightened.”

Dancel took her hand and sat beside her. He gently massaged her knuckles as he spoke. “Love is more than a feeling,” he said. “And it’s not like the books and poems I used to read to you as a child. There are hardships and pains too terrifying to name, and in the darkest moments, hope will feel fleeting and fear will consume you. Love overcomes all of those - but only if you choose it.”

His eyes spoke of great sorrow and longing, one Daleon only remembered from her childhood. She took his hand and held it to her cheek, engraving the warmth of it into her skin. “I will miss your wisdom, Dancel.”

He sighed. “There are many things I wish I could have taught you both. But wisdom is not taught, it is earned. One day you will earn it, with your husband and eventually, your children.”

“Do you think I will make a good wife to him?”

“You are a Morningstar.” He smiled. “You can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

The reception ended without a single dance from the newlyweds. Despite their weariness, Gab expected them to depart before the sun set. Both families stood outside, saying their farewells as servants loaded the couple’s trunks into the carriage.

Daleon held out her arms, and Ergon came to her embrace. Strangely, she thought it would be the last time they would ever embrace each other this way.

Ergon’s hold tightened. “I still wish you would not leave.”

She pulled herself away to look at him. She cupped his cheeks, rubbing them with her thumbs. “We are twins,” she said, proudly. “No matter time or distance, our love is stronger than most.” She kissed his forehead, and held him a little longer.

“Don’t get in too much trouble when I’m gone,” she said almost as a tease.

“I will be leaving soon.”

“What do you mean?”

Ergon shrugged. “Since you’re leaving, I need to think about some things. I cannot think here.”

She looked to Dancel, and it was clear in the man’s gaze that he knew this would happen.

“Ergon—“

“Go,” he said. “It is time I decide for myself as well.”

Gab called her into the carriage. She was reluctant to part with Ergon now, but it was he who escorted her into the carriage, planting one final kiss on her cheek. As they drove away, Daleon craned her neck to look through the window. She saw Ergon standing on the road, watching her as they left. She waved to him, but she was sure he did not see her.

They were out of London in an hour. While the carriage ride was altogether bumpy, the clopping of the horse’s hooves, the creaking and clicking of the wheels and the occasional lurch of belongings were the only sounds they heard. Soon, brick-faced buildings began to diminish in view, as the roads made way for the sprawling countryside with meadows and the smell of wet grass.

Gab was quiet, and she was unsettled. She imagined she would have plenty of things to talk about to her husband, but knowing her husband was Gabriel Driscol put things in perspective. She chewed the inside of her lip trying to think of something to say, as it seemed he was not interested in conversation. It was very like him. Had she given them the chance to court properly, had she truly been righteous with her advancements or intentions, would things have been different? She could only wonder now - her marriage with him had only begun, yet it felt as if the seams were beginning to rip themselves apart.

“What is Edengrove like, your grace?” She broke the silence at last.

Gab cleared his throat. “It’s not too different from the duchy Dancel holds. I mainly see to a town nearby, though it is not as advanced as London.”

“Will you show me once we arrive?”

He took her hand, petted it, and said, "In time. First, I would like you to see where you will stay for the week.”

The week. So he was already convinced that she would leave him? No. He wanted her to leave was the more likely scenario. That was the arrangement they agreed upon. She squeezed his hand. He did not return the gesture, but neither did he let go.

They reached the inn by nightfall. Gab ordered separate rooms for them, much to Daleon’s surprise. She did not comment on the fact, and allowed her to be shown to her room across his to wait for supper. By then, she did not feel like eating. She shed off her coat and shawl, and checked herself in the mirror. For someone who was just married, the bags under her eyes made her look awful.

It could have been worse. She could have been abandoned, divorced, or returned like a damaged good. But who was she to think of such things? Gab was a good man, if not decent. His character was the epitome of nobility, and she would be provided for. But she could barely hold her tears as she changed into her night gown. She did not like the face in the mirror - even her reflection looked as if she was taking pity on her.

She moved to the bed, pushing her back right against the pillows. She brought her knees up to her chest. Her mind was in a daze. Helpless. That’s what she felt. Utterly helpless to the circumstances she caused. One week. She’d only have to put up with it for one week. But could she bear it? And when that week passed, what then? She could go back to London, but she knew deep in her heart she would still long for Gab. She didn’t want to go away, but she did not know if she could stay.

“Daleon?” Gab knocked twice. “Are you there?”

She thought not to answer him, but it would have been rude. “Just a moment,” her throat was hoarse and her voice cracked when she spoke.

“I’m coming in.”

Panicked, she threw the covers of the bed over her. What kind of face was he making now? She wondered.

“Daleon, you’re not a child.”

“I know.”

She felt the mattress beneath her dip. “Tell me what troubles you.”

She did not answer. She could tell he was only trying to be gentle. “Do you wish to be back in London?” he asked.

She shook her head. She did not know if he could see. “I don’t want our marriage to be like this.”

A sigh. “It was not supposed to end this way. You know that.”

She pressed on. “I know you think of me as simple and naive, far from the wife you envisioned, if you’ve even envisioned one at all.”

“You are correct,” he said. “I have not even a glimmer of an idea of who I wish my wife to be. But you are my wife now, creating ideals will only distract me.”

“But what if I end up not being the wife you want?” She felt her face getting hot. “I don’t care for the shame or the questions that come with it. I’d only feel terrible if I didn’t make you happy. More than anything I…“

She broke into sobs, and began to feel the covers slipping away from her, revealing her sorry state to Gab. She buried her face in her knees, wrapping her arms around them as if to encase herself. “You cannot possibly comprehend how agonizing it was to watch you from afar, only wanting, desperately, to be near you.”

She told him about Tomo calling on her after they were engaged. “I could not see myself marrying Tomo. I would have spent the rest of my life dreaming of you. I can only be sorry for all of this.”

Another sigh, longer this time. “You have been very troublesome - waltzing into my life, developing feelings for me. Getting us into this mess. You are soft.”

“I don’t understand you,” she cried. “One minute you treat me with such kindness, saying the most romantic things in front of the king himself, the next it is as if I do not exist—“

“Because I too am afraid!”

She heard Gab raise his voice before, but knowing it was directed at her made her flinch. Her heart caught in her throat. She blinked her tears away, and she could see clearly the way his cheeks were dusted red, and his hands curled into trembling fists.

“I’m afraid of you, and all that you are. I may be unable to confess that I have feelings for you the same way you claim to have feelings for me. But the last thing *I* want is for a lady of your caliber to be unhappy. I do not want to fail.”

She held her head up and looked at him through her tear-stained eyes. “Then let me stay with you. I promise I won’t be a burden to you, so please don’t push me away.”

His expression softened as he held out his hand. She took it almost instantly. She was brought to his side, and soon, she felt her tears being brushed away. She looked into his eyes, and attempted to read them, but she could only see her own reflection in the darkened pools of blue.

Then he kissed her. Daleon closed her eyes, only wanting to feel more and more of him. It was close to the kind of kiss she dreamed of, and much better than their first kiss. Gab pulled away suddenly, panting.

“Gab?”

“Apologies, I’m—“ He pressed a hand to his face, trying to cover the evident red on his cheeks. “I’m a little light headed.”

Something about his face turning red as a tomato after a romantic declaration of some kind was quite charming to Daleon. But she would have been daft to not notice. It dawned on her then. “Gabriel, could it be you are embarrassed by my affection for you?”

His face turned redder.

She tried not to smile. “Do you dislike it?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“It is common for a husband and wife to be physically affectionate.” She waited for his proper answer. “I am not opposed to it.”

So he was simply shy.

“Then I shall be plain: I would like to be kissed, your grace. And I would very much like to kiss you.”

His eye twitched. “You should not demand such shameless things so openly. What if someone else were to hear of them?” he said, yet he did not look away from her. Nor did he try to distance himself when Daleon leaned closer and closer to him. She felt his trembling breath on her face.

“Then am I not most fortunate to have you as my husband?”

“You tread dangerous waters, Lady Driscol.”

Their lips met, and she could not help but sigh. They almost seemed to melt into each other. She felt Gab’s arms wrap around her and pull her even closer to him, crushing their chests together. They did not seem to care, not until Gab pulled away again, out of breath, like he had nearly drowned. Daleon took in every shaking breath, rubbing his arms and shoulders to soothe him. There was an odd sense of victory rising in her, knowing that she could be the only one to get such a darling reaction out of him.

“We should retire for the evening,” she said.

“Yes,”

“Will you stay with me?”

There was a flicker of hesitance, and then a nod. She tucked herself in while waiting for Gab to take off his boots, before slipping between the sheets with her. They lay on their sides, staring at each other, for God knew how long until the light died on the hearth and the last candle had dimmed significantly, that all they could see were the shadows of their face. Daleon began to feel drowsy, the weight of sleep calling her. The same seemed to be for Gab. She reached out a hand to brush his cheek, and his eyes fluttered close as she touched him. She wished she could ask what he was thinking about.

“Come here,” she whispered. And come to her, he did. They were closer now, close enough to feel each other’s air and smell each other’s scent. She loved it. She loved him. She dared to kiss him again. Gab did not flinch or pull away. He sighed, finally relaxing after the long and rather eventful day they had. She wished to stare at that peaceful face until the sun rose, but sleep soon came to her as it did him.

That night, she fell into a dreamless sleep. As far as she knew, all her dreams were right beside her - and for once, she felt a tinge of excitement for the days to come.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

15 - Declarations of Intentions

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Daleon expected the frown on Prince Tomo’s face when he called on her a few days later. After all, what kind of lady turned down a prince’s proposal by engaging in a scandal with another gentleman?

"I understand your situation is…difficult," he began. “I have heard Lord Gabriel has returned to London. It does not take a genius to know what he came for.”

His gaze lowered to Daleon’s hand. She twisted the ring on her finger, hiding it from Tomo’s line of sight. “Yes…”

Tomo's expression remained the same. “I was under the impression that we were getting along."

"Yes." Daleon said meekly. “But it would not bode well for His Majesty if you married a ruined woman, now would it?”

“You were not a ruined woman when I proposed to you, and that is the nature of my inquiry.” There was not an ounce of anger in the prince’s tone. However, the haze of self-loathing and shame still had its hold on Daleon and rendered her speechless. The words were there yearning to burst past her lips, but she didn’t dare speak.

“To my understanding, his grace approached you that night,” Tomo continued. “I would not put it above him to use some underhanded tactic to make you complacent—“

“Please do not speak about my fiance that way.” Her anger was sudden, as if she was struck by lightning at the top of her head. It spread through her torso towards the soles of her feet. Realizing what she had done, she shrunk back into herself. “I was the one who forced him to propose - by doing what we did.”

Never in her life would Daleon think that a kiss could be so damaging. “I accepted his proposal as proof of my intent to atone for involving him in this scandal.”

Tomo did not speak or react. He quietly tapped a finger on his thigh as he processed the information he just received. “But he came to you.”

Daleon did not acknowledge the remark.

“I see. I must say it is very like you.” Tomo pursed his lips and breathed out slowly through his nose, as if he had been holding a breath since he came in. "To be honest, I am quite relieved."

It was Daleon's turn to be surprised. "How so?"

“You are not fit to wear the crown at all.” He offered a curt smile - a rather pitiful attempt at comfort. “Do not misunderstand, my lady. I meant it when I said I hoped to fall in love with you. But as a prince, affections cannot be my sole priority in finding a wife, no matter how much I would wish it to be. I've told you before: the crown can be cruel.”

“So when you proposed to me, you were not truly in love with me either?”

His bottom lip twitched, and he looked lost in thought. His gaze did not meet hers. He wavered as he spoke. “I persuaded myself to be in love with you, just enough that I would have had the courage to propose. I would have given you everything you would ever ask for, and the only thing my family would have required in exchange was a child.”

Not a family. A child. Not even for himself, but for the monarchy he was born into. Her naivety got the better of her once again, but strangely, fate was kind for not allowing her to meet that end. She clasped her hands together, the warmth anchoring her to the present. “You have a way with words, your highness.”

“I was hoping you too would be amenable to that kind of partnership. My uncle is fond of you, and my mother would have been as well. But I see now how you seek a romance, the kind that many would envy. That is not a crime. However, what I seek is a partner. An equal not in rank, but in will."

There was no malice in the prince’s words, but she saw as he did in her the things he nor anyone could change: his role and the weight it carried. It was more than enough that he was kind. Unlike her, Tomo was part of the elite circle that led a society. She and countless others depended on the way he ruled. Of course he needed a wife to shoulder that responsibility with him.

Without question, Gab needed, no, expected that of his wife too. A Dukedom was not easy to manage. The ring on her finger suddenly felt more like a ball and chain, rather than the romantic reminder she had always dreamed of, and the behemoth of tasks ahead of her as the imminent duchess of Edengrove slowly dawned.

Daleon smiled. “In the end, I suppose we are all willing to live in an ignorant state of bliss.”

Tomo perked at her suggestion. “Yes. That is a forward way of putting it.”

“But I still believe that we are entitled to searching for our own means of happiness regardless of the situation.”

He nodded in understanding. “Do you think you could be happy with him?”

Daleon needed a moment to respond. There was truly no way of knowing unless she spoke to Gab. But it had been days since he proposed, and he had not even so much as sent her a letter. They kept each other in the dark.

“I do not know,” she said. “It must all depend on whether I can be a good wife to him. But I suppose I can learn, just as you were willing to learn more about me. So can Gabriel.”

The prince finally smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing. "His grace is most fortunate to have you as a wife. In my good spirits, I feel I should warn you. His Majesty will not take this rejection lightly. You must be prepared to show your resolve when the time comes."

He asked for Daleon’s hand one last time and kissed it.

“I pray your days with the Duke be filled with joy and light. And that we find happiness in our purpose.”

The last statement felt more like a prayer for himself than it was for her. She prayed for it nonetheless.

Gab finally called on her as the date of their nuptials loomed over them, but not for the reason she expected.

“My request for our marriage license was denied,” he said. “By the king himself.”

As they all stood in the foyer, Dancel and Ainsworth, who had accompanied Gab to see the bishop, hung their heads in deep thought.

“Lord Ainsworth,” Dancel began. “With how familiar we are with his majesty, may I assume we have reached the same conclusion?”

“If that conclusion is that His Majesty wants you to appeal for your marriage before him, then we have indeed come to an agreement.”

“Appeal?” Daleon asked.

Gab’s brows creased. “He wants us to beg.”

Ainsworth clicked his tongue. “He wants both of you to justify why you should be allowed to marry. It will be more difficult, given the ‘incident’, but you must be truthful.”

“And a little dramatic,”

Ainsworth smiled a little. “Yes. His Majesty enjoys a good show.” He turned to Gab. “Be honest with each other, and more importantly be honest with yourselves.”

The intensity of Ainsworth’s gaze made Daleon want to look at him too. She saw a muscle twitch under his cheek. His gaze was hard, and her hands trembled in response. She knew this was the last place he wanted to be, the last situation he wanted to be in. And yet he had done, and continued to do it, for their honor. Seeing him again, she so desperately wished to ease that burden, even a little.

“What shall we say?” She asked him.

Gab looked at her, but did not answer.

They arrived at the king’s palace bright and early the next day, walking in blind into a proverbial lion’s den.

His Majesty lounged leisurely on his throne, shooing away one of his prime ministers as the couple approached. Ainsworth and Dancel offered their greetings and stated their business. He sneered at them.

“And why is an audience necessary if your concern is your marriage license?”

Gab was already in a sour mood since that morning. Daleon could feel him seething now. “You know very well what we came for,” he said.

He nodded his head almost teasingly. “And I’m waiting for you to make your case.”

Their moment was at hand, but neither were courageous enough to speak. She thought to wait for Gab, but he stood there, taking breaths so deep his shoulders heaved.

“We don’t have all day, Driscol.”

Daleon stepped front and center. “Your Majesty, it was love at first sight.”

Hijiri scoffed, unamused.

Gab tried to speak. “The lady exaggerates—“

“It was for me.”

Her words silenced the hall, and Hijiri was listening intently, despite his lazy posture.

“I thought he was beautiful. Yes, that is how I would describe him. But then he turned out to be rather sharp-tongued and condescending. Despite that, he has not unkind and has always paid attention to my best interest. I could not find it in myself to stay away, no matter how hard I tried. Lady Nightbloom has only proven that I have feelings for him. But I…”

I have doomed him. She thought to say, but the words caught painfully in her throat that it began to ache. She bit her bottom lip to keep any mewls from escaping.

Hijiri sighed. “Frankly, this might be the most boring appeal I’ve ever heard of in my life. And an appeal is quite rare. It is most blatant that you are marrying for the sake of correcting the consequences of your scandal. I was expecting a little more entertainment.”

He stood up to leave.

“Your Majesty—“

“I will not deny that our marriage is one of most unfortunate circumstances,” said Gab. The room looked to him now. He clenched his jaw. “The lady honors me. But this whole time, Miss Morningstar and I have only been using each other as a means to an end. She wanted to find a husband, and I wanted peace whilst I attended my business here.”

Hijiri stopped and listened.

“We fooled the ton and even you into believing that we were courting. But in the end, we could not fool ourselves. It took a prince coming along for me to realize that.”

Daleon stared at him, at his trembling lips and the way his eyes gleamed with truth. His eyes flickered between the ground and her, and she saw his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red. She thought it a precious and adorable sight. His nose twitched as if he was reluctant to speak. How she wished she could tell him to stop if it hurt him. They did not have to do this. They never had to.

But Gabriel held his head, and despite the evident embarrassment on his face, he said: “No one will provide for Miss Morningstar’s affections better than I. I swear it.”

His tone was not the usual firm timbre everyone associated with him - yet it was more commanding than the king’s and more raw and tender. Daleon placed a hand on her heart, terrified it would jump out. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to hold him and wanted to be held by him.

“If you wish to belittle me and call this feeling love or infatuation, then so be it. But I want her to be my wife.” He finally looked at her, lips trembling and brows furrowed as if he was going to cry. “And I will have no one else.”

She could feel tears slipping from her eyes, but she did not wish to look away. The near-noon sun shone through the glass panes in the ceiling, illuminating faint wisps of blonde in an ethereal halo.

He was her duke - and she was going to be his wife. She wanted nothing more than to be his wife. But no sooner had she thought it, did she realize how much of a selfish and conceited creature she truly was.

He turned towards the king. “So I beg of you, do not make us wait.”

For had there been no audience, Daleon would have kissed him again.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

14 - Conversations in Confidence

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The unbearable dread on Gab's shoulders weighed almost the same from when he buried his father all those years ago. He wished now, as he did then, to turn back time to that idyllic past of his youth, where the responsibility of choice seemed far, far away. Perhaps that was why his mother left him not long after his father, to save him from those burdens. But life had a strange, albeit, cruel way of moving him forward. This time, the choice would not only affect his life, but someone else's.

Gab was almost ashamed to keep his head aloft when they entered the Morningstar estate. He feared catching even a glimpse of her for what he was about to do. A maid approached Dancel, speaking in hushed tones with a worried expression. Dancel nodded as he listened. Ergon did not even bother shedding off his coat, quickly climbing the stairs to the second floor to see his sister.

The landing was solemn with the three of them standing there. Zaheer showed them to the sitting room, bringing tea while Dancel followed Ergon. The butler's expression was grim.

"How is she?" Roush asked after they sat. Zaheer did not respond, brows furrowed as he poured, like the liquid was so delicate he needed all his attention on it. "Zaheer, please."

"Today might be the only day I haven't heard her cry, my lord." He put two cubes of sugar in each cup, then bowed to leave. "It's almost as if she knew you would be coming today."

Gab chewed on the inside of his cheek to distract him as they waited. A minute seemed longer than it was. He forced himself to stay put instead of pacing about. They heard some scuffling and some muffled shouting in the distance. They did not know whose, but they knew it came from within the house. After a minute or so, there was silence.

They stood when someone entered the room. It was Daleon. She paid no attention to them at first. Her dark blue dress looked more fitting on Dancel than it did her. Her pink locks looked paler than normal, tucked simply behind her head and flowing freely down the small of her back. Gab saw patches of dried tears in the corner of her eyes. Her gaze had dulled, but she still held herself with pride, or rather what little she had left.

"Miss Morningstar," Gab swallowed the lump in his throat. "You look…"

"Unwell?" She pressed her lips into a thin line. "That is what self-loathing does to you."

The words died on his tongue, and he struggled to remain composed. Her presence was suddenly unnerving - like he was speaking to a stranger.

"I appreciate you coming to see me, but it is too late now for your pity." Her words stung like poison. She looked at him. "I have already ruined myself."

"Daleon," he glanced around him, aware of the audience they had. "At least listen to what I have to say."

"There is nothing to say. I've made my choice, just as you made yours."

Gab clenched his jaw. "This is not the time to be selfish."

"Selfish?" Her gaze on him hardened. "Rest assured, your grace, your freedom has been in the forefront of my considerations."

"And what of everyone else’s? My family? Yours?"

"My family's affairs are none of your concern. You're better off in Edengrove where you belong."

He heard the echo of his own voice in those words. "Running away doesn't suit you,"

"Running away sounds more comfortable."

He could see in her trembling gaze the front she put up.

Gab huffed. He had almost forgotten how adept she was at getting on his nerves. Two could play at that game - and he was not one to lose. "Very well. I do not think it dawns upon you the damage you have done to me with your little confession. I am offering you a way out - one that can solve all of our problems in an instant."

"Your first 'offer' is why we are here in the first place. And here you are offering another one based on what you value most at this very moment: your reputation in this society. I can't live through another ruse Gabriel, not with you." Daleon heaved through her breaths as she spoke. She pressed a hand to her stomach, and swayed ever so slightly. Her lips trembled and her eyes watered. She turned her back with a sniffle.

Gab took one deep breath and remembered the velvet box in his pocket. He took it out and opened it. Inside lay a ring with a rose-gold band and a singular pearl embedded with amethysts on either side. His mother always said he would give this ring to a woman he loved in the distant future. That future was now his present, but it was far from the kind of love his parents envisioned for him.

He willed himself to step forward until he faced the mantle above the fireplace. He placed the open box there, letting the object speak for itself. He couldn't bear to look at her, not if it meant hurting them both more than they already had. It was surprising how much it did affect him.

"Please consider my offer," he said. "If not for yourself, then for Ergon and Dancel. And if you truly mean it, me. If you believe you must atone for what you did, then I will atone with you. I also had a part to play in this after all."

Daleon's voice was feeble. "What happens if I say yes?"

His throat began to ache. "Dancel and I can arrange things for you. Ideally, you will stay in Edengrove with me for some time, so as not to arouse suspicion. But you will not have to see me or speak to me. If it pleases you, you may ask Ergon to accompany you during your stay. After a week, you can return to London and it will be as if nothing has changed. You will be free of me."

That was a lie and he knew it. He rephrased. "I give you my word that I will make married life with me as comfortable for you as I can. All you need is ask."

Daleon did not speak, but Gab could see in the corner of his eye that she was looking at him. He knew he was imprisoning them for life with this declaration, to each other no less, but he saw no other way to ease the pain and shame they both felt. As much as he loathed to admit it, it was the right thing to do. He only wished it had been done under happier circumstances.

"I will not give her away without a fight."

All eyes turned to the doorway. Ergon held two epees in his hand. He tossed one of them to the ground.

Gab turned. "You intend to turn a civil conversation into a duel, Lord Fernshire? How medieval of you."

"I have a duty to defend my sister's honor." He glared daggers. "You take advantage of her, come to this house and ask for her hand in marriage, and expect to walk away without resistance? I demand satisfaction."

Better this than a duel with a pistol, he supposed. And if Gab were honest, he had been itching to give the young marquis a piece of his mind. Gab slipped off his gloves and picked up the sword.

"You have a terrible habit of letting your children walk all over you, your grace," he said. "I advise you fix it when I'm done educating your boy on your behalf."

"He has nothing left to teach me," said Ergon.

Dancel did not respond. He did not even look at them.

"Stop it. Both of you."

Despite Daleon's words, the men moved outside to the garden. The Serviceberry tree where he and Daleon once sat loomed behind Ergon, standing as a reminder of a more innocent time. How long had that been? A month? A little more?

Gab wound his grip around the handle, trying to adapt to its weight. It was lighter than a bow, and felt a little small in his hand. He knew he was at a slight disadvantage, having little experience in fencing. As long as he kept a cool head, he had a chance.

He could see the marquis' shoulders twitch as they stood en garde. Even if it was only in the spirit of social competition, Gab knew if Ergon could kill him, he would kill him. Not that it entirely mattered to him - he was practically a dead man already. If Ergon managed to kill him with a practice blade, he would not mind. It would free him and Daleon.

The lunge to his right was expected, and Gab had the good sense to twist his body left. But even if the epee wasn't made to kill, the sheer force Ergon carried through in his strike could have done so. His strength was formidable, but more importantly, he was angry.

Ergon swung his blade left and right like a madman. A whistling sound sliced through the air. Tactics were clearly not his priority. The fool. But Gab was underestimating him, as it took fair amounts of Gab's own strength to block or evade every fast swing. Gab blocked his left, and the blades met with a resounding clang, it made his ears ring. Their epees began to bend.

This was clearly not the gentlemanly sport of fencing the young Morningstar challenged him to, which was fine by Gab. He had a lot of pent up disdain for how events had turned out - and Ergon made an excellent match for his own anger.

Gab finally swung at Ergon first. The action surprised him. They crossed their blades, and Gab looked down on him, pushing hard. Their blades became more misshapen. He could see the burning glint of rage in his eyes, and had things been different, Gab might have actually enjoyed this match as the sport it was meant to be.

He dug his heel into the ground for leverage, and with all of the strength in his forearm, pushed his blade against Ergon's until he lost his footing in the dirt. The marquis was well exhausted taking all his rage out on that first barrage that he stumbled back. Ergon swung again, and Gab met him head on. Their blades crossed and guards touched.

"You share Daleon's stubbornness."

Ergon grit his teeth. "You have no right to say her name so leisurely."

"Not yet."

This time Gab let Ergon push him away. They began to walk around each other in a circle, and doing so allowed Gab to look at Daleon for a moment. She held onto Dancel's arm for dear life, eyes melting as she watched. All this needless trifle was for her, Gab thought. He could have been the bigger individual and walked away, allowing Ergon to keep his sister and their family. But he did not want to admit he had that choice. He was not in the wrong either. It was better for them this way.

No one said the better way was perfect.

Ergon lunged for him again, but in his haste, Gab saw an opening. He extended his reach, barely missing Ergon's arm. The tip of his epee touched his shoulder just above his armpit. The look of disbelief on the marquis’ face said it all. A moment of shock, then denial, then rage once more.

Ergon shoved Gab's blade away and raised his crooked one. Gab anticipated to block it.

"Stop!" Daleon ran up to them, throwing her arms around her brother, one hand cautiously grasping Ergon's wrist to keep the blade from hurting either of them. Ergon turned to her, a look of bewilderment in his eyes.

"Why him, Daleon?" He cried. "Do you truly want him to take you away from me?"

Daleon gently lowered her brother's hand until the epee fell to the grass with a quiet thud. She took his hand in hers and whispered.

"It is my choice."

She pressed her forehead to his, and the twins quietly broke into sobs.

Gab returned the epee to Zaheer before showing himself out the door. Roush quickly followed, saying his goodbyes to Dancel and the others.

His wrist was sore. His stomach threatened to lurch out of its cavity, and his head throbbed with an oncoming headache and something more. He wanted to scream. He picked up his hat and cane from the footman at the door and briskly marched towards the carriage. He stopped just before getting in, a gnawing feeling at his back telling him to turn around.

When he did, he saw Daleon running towards him, stopping just outside the steps of the entryway. His gaze flew to her hands, and there, on her left ring finger, was his mother's ring. He almost teared up at the sight of it.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed. "I'm sorry."

He tipped his hat before climbing into the carriage. Roush followed suit, closing the door as he came in.

"Stewart Hall, if you please."

The carriage drove away. He did not look back. As the distance between him and the Morningstar estate grew, his stomach was heavy like stone.

He would never view that house the same way again. He would always remember it as the day he tore a family apart. In the end, his own pride got the better of him.

They drove for a while. Gab tried not to look out the window. He didn't need to confirm he was being stared at.

"Are you alright?" Roush asked.

"I've done what is expected of me," Gab replied. Roush did not continue.

They arrived in Stewart Hall as gray clouds began to roll over a pewter sky. A chilly breeze greeted them as they entered - a warning for what was to come. Fauta, Mika, and even Jellie were in the salon, seemingly anticipating them. They stared at him like alarmed cats at an intruder.

There was a brief moment of silence between the cousins. Were they as shocked as Gab was? Disappointed? Enthralled?

"How does it feel to be the center of attention, cousin?" Fauta was clearly pleased at how events turned out, judging by his cheery tone. Gab wanted to punch the smirk off his face, but he was too exhausted to deal with him.

"Fauta, mind your manners," said Roush. His voice was deep, and almost angry. "You have not been through what we have been through today."

Hearing the commotion, Ainsworth entered. "You have returned." If Ainsworth truly knew why, he did not show it.

"Extra business, I'm afraid." Gab replied.

Fauta did not even acknowledge him. "Did you propose to the young lady?"

"I did," he paused. "We are to wed soon."

"Congratulations."

Ainsworth cleared his throat. Everyone shuffled out of the room. Roush left last, offering a reassuring hand on Gab's shoulder and a forced smile.

Gab and Ainsworth sat across each other.

"Why did you not propose to her when you had the chance?"

Gab narrowed his eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

Ainsworth adjusted himself in his seat. His expression was understanding. No. Pitiful. "Mistakes are sometimes made when one refuses to acknowledge what is true to them. Had you thought two steps ahead, this whole scandal could have been avoided."

It was not as if Gab had feelings for her before Tomo came into the picture. He did not want to think about feelings at the moment. They were only making him sick.

"I don't love her." He decided to say.

"Love is a choice as much as it is a gift. I've seen you with her."

"That was only once,"

"You chose her as much as I believe she has chosen you." He withdrew a paper from his pocket, the familiar logo of Lady Nightbloom's column showing through the thin leaflet. "This is proof of that."

Gab swallowed. "If you are to deal out a punishment—"

"I am not having this conversation to punish you." His tone was firm. "Nor do I believe you should punish yourself for the trial you are about to embark on."

Shame numbed his fingers. "She is not the trial. I am."

Silence washed over them. Ainsworth sighed.

"I will not dictate you on what it means to be a good husband. Heaven knows even the most virtuous of lovers can still fail." He leaned forward, making sure his gaze met Gab's. Gab could not bring himself to look. He stared at his hands in front of him, but Ainsworth persisted until Gab looked.

Ainsworth’s gaze was stern. "Do not burden her by burdening yourself with your pride." It was an order.

The onslaught of emotions Gab felt hours prior swelled within him exponentially, so that his hands and feet trembled. His nose began to sting, and his face began to ache. He took one shaky breath, and let a tear slip. That was the last drop he needed for his cup of suffering to overflow, and he sobbed like a child, wailing and breathing raggedly as the tears flowed down his face. He was terrified of what was to come - terrified of how he failed and could still fail. What he would not give to have his mother hold him.

He welcomed his uncle’s hand on his head, gently patting him while he bit his lip hard to keep himself from screaming as the dam broke in front of the one man he had long sought respect for. How unsightly must he be now?

What would Daleon think if she saw him like this?

The guilt that came with that question weighed like bricks on his shoulders that he crumbled into his uncle’s embrace.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

13 - Casting Stones

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Last night, at the king’s ball, a passer-by spotted two shadows in the king’s garden. These two illustrious gems stood a little too close for comfort, burning in an act of unbridled passion. Now this author wagers that your delightful imagination can fill in the rest. It is a pity that the brighter a star shines, the faster it burns. And it is an even greater pity that this star may never recover from such a scandal…

Daleon’s lips were softer than he imagined.

Imagined? Ridiculous. He dreamed of them. He must have gone mad for allowing this to happen. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He pulled her against him, glove-less hands feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her gown. Had she always been so small in his arms?

He held her face, thumbs caressing smooth, faintly powdered cheeks. Her button nose pushed against his own as they both desperately sought the other. The way her lips molded perfectly to his was enough to drive him over the edge. He chased after them. Discipline began to slip from him, the same way his lips slipped from Daleon’s to kiss her jaw and further down her neck and throat. She moaned his name and tugged at the short strands of his hair, pulling him closer to her. Her rose-scented perfume filled his being with desire, the scalding heat of it pounding in his blood and through his skin. He wanted her. That was the most terrifying thought. He wanted her terribly—

Gab jolted awake, panting as cold sweat rolled down his forehead and neck. The familiar cream ceilings and crown molding reminded him of where he was. He was in Edengrove. Home.

He sat up in bed, yanking on the duvet to cover the embarrassingly evident bulge straining against his trousers. Shame on you, he thought, thinking and behaving like a pubescent boy, all from a kiss from four days ago. It was clearly an accident - a moment of shroud in both of their minds, one that seemed to follow him. But perhaps the shroud went by another name: guilt. After all, it was his choice to see her one last time.

To say he yearned for her was a strong word, but it was impossible to forget her. Frankly, the notion made him sick. Even something as insignificant as the roses and carnations at Stewart Hall was enough to bring her face to his memory. He blamed the archery match, Tomo, and Jellie, for even putting those thoughts into his head. But most of all, he blamed himself for his fickle heart. The presence of one lady should not have befuddled his whole world like this. She was like a stone cast into the still waters of his mind, creating unending ripples and waves. He allowed himself to be carried away with the tide, and now, they were ruined. He could imagine the reprimand from his parents were they still alive. He knew it was nothing compared to the public shame Daleon might endure, and that knowledge made him feel worse.

He prayed no one saw them, but Gab would be a fool if he didn’t think of any countermeasures should the event be brought to light and public scrutiny. But what countermeasures? The correct one would be to marry her; the other would leave her in ruin. He didn’t know if he could do one or the other, especially because he was a far cry from the man Daleon wanted, and could not envision Daleon as his wife. That wasn’t reason enough to leave her to her cruel fate. But would it not be crueler if she ended up with him?

He hoped he would not have to make that decision.

A few knocks came upon his door. Gab’s butler, Keith, entered to draw the curtains. He did not greet him.

“You have guests from London, your grace,” he said instead.

Gab’s blood went cold. “Who?”

Keith fidgeted as he turned towards his master.

“His Lordship Bastion, and Duke Morningstar are waiting in the foyer, along with the marquis.”

It was one day’s trip from London to Edengrove. If they came to see him in haste, they must have been exhausted.

“I apologize for you having to come a long way, my lords,” he said in greeting. “Had I known you were coming, I would have tidied up the guest rooms.”

Neither Dancel nor Roush seemed to have the grace to greet him. Instead, Ergon came up the steps with the ferocity of a wolf, hands balled into solid fists, ready to maim him. Roush and Dancel raced up the steps to hold him back, but Ergon gritted his teeth and resisted with all his strength - they thought his coat would rip.

“You bastard,” he snarled. “I’ll kill you.”

So much for pleasantries. “Who told you?’ Gab asked.

“The papers,” Dancel replied, grunting as Ergon tried to break free of them. “You were seen. Daleon confessed to it afterwards.”

“Only because he told her to say she advanced on him first,” said Ergon, struggling to break free from their holds. “I thought you a man of character, but now I see how you’ve plotted for my sister’s ruin.”

Gab sighed. God must have had a strange reason for not answering his prayers. “I hope you did not come all the way here for a boy to lash out at me. His energy is better directed to caring for his own.”

He watched, almost with amusement, as the young marquis tried to lunge for him again. Roush pushed Ergon away and blocked him with his body, whispering rather angrily to the young Morningstar, like a stern father scolding his child for misbehaving. Gab could not catch what Roush was saying, but the baron’s words seemed to pass one through one ear and out the other with how upset he was. His eyes were on Gab, still with the intent to kill.

“I am here to ask you what is to be done, as you are also an affected party,” said Dancel, straightening his coat.

Gab held his breath. “I know exactly what you wish to ask of me, and I respectfully, my answer is no.”

Dancel glowered at him. “It is a lady’s right to deny a proposal, not a gentleman’s.”

“I am saying I have no intention of proposing to her,” he replied. “It will be wasting both of our times and resources.”

“I’d rather die than watch her marry now,” Ergon growled. “If Gab dies, then Daleon will have no obligation to be with him.”

Dancel clicked his tongue. “Ergon, your behavior over the last few days has been absolutely dismal, and I expected better from a Morningstar.” His voice steadily rose with his words. Gab felt it wasn’t only Ergon he was referring to.

Now Ergon’s attention turned to Dancel. He shoved Roush away and marched right up to him, sizing him up. They were almost the same height. “If you didn’t let Daleon debut, none of this would have happened. Our world was perfect before all of this.“

“Something else would have happened,” Dancel snapped back at him. The hall went still. “None of us can predict how our future will turn out. I cannot protect you forever, and neither can you for Daleon or that perfect world you’ve envisioned. This is our present now, and we will deal with it accordingly, with decorum.”

Ergon’s shoulders rose and fell with every seething breath. “I won’t let you give her away. I won’t. If you make them marry, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you, your grace.”

There was a pause, and then with a defeated sigh, Dancel looked down on him. “Then I shall prepare myself,” he said. “I suggest you do the same.”

Ergon’s eyes went wide. With a stifled curse, he marched away from them and out the door. Roush ran to follow him.

Gab cleared his throat. “I admire your tenacity, your grace.”

“I’ve spoiled them too much. Being a parent is difficult,”

Gab knew he wanted to say more. “I’m sure it must have been quite a journey, might I offer you some refreshments?"

Gab tried to ignore the large oil painting of his mother and father as they entered the study. He strode towards his desk and sat. “Tea? Or perhaps something stronger?”

Dancel sat across Gab. “Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

Gab wondered where to begin. “It must have been difficult, raising them by yourself.” The strong smell of coffee wafted towards him as the servant filled his cup.

“You’d be surprised at how many people it took to actually raise them,” Dancel gave a gentle smile as he sipped. “I wonder where they get their stubbornness from. One minute they’re children, and then suddenly they’re adults with thoughts and dreams of their own, and you wonder how long you have left with them?”

Dancel must have realized he got carried away. He set down his cup, and changed the subject. “I do not doubt for a second that Daleon instigated this whole affair.”

Gab relaxed his shoulders. “On the contrary, the roots are deeper,”

“I know about your little arrangement.” He paused. “Do you truly expect me to believe that you have felt nothing for Daleon in the time you’ve spent with her?”

Gab knew his silence was a dead give away, but he could not find a suitable response. He tried to steady his breathing, but that only made his chest tighten so much he thought breathing was impossible.

“She loves you, Gabriel. Why else would she do what she did?”

The words hurt more than he thought. Gab swallowed. “I am not the man she wants. And I will not allow either of us to suffer because of the absence of love in our marriage. I’ll only end up disappointing her.”

Perhaps he already had. The image of his parents in the corner of his eye began to bother him. They watched him - judged him from heaven. He tried to keep his gaze steady on the Duke instead, and try as he might to analyze his eyes, he found them unreadable, distant almost. It was funny to see how he remained such a mystery in the eyes of the ton, even though they were only a few years apart in age.

“I know you mean well when you say these things,” he said at last. “In that case, the three of us can move away from London for a while. I’m sure the ton will forget in a few years.”

A breath of relief, or was it remorse? Either way, he was a little appalled the man did not insist. “Where will you go?”

“Paris perhaps, or maybe Venice. Who knows, Daleon might find someone there. Someone who can take her mind off you.”

Gab’s hand clenched on his lap. “That might be for the best,”

“You do not sound very pleased,”

He wasn’t. But he couldn’t say that, not on his life. “That is none of your concern,” he said instead.

“Very well. I appreciate your hospitality, your grace,” Dancel stood, his cup of coffee only half-finished. “But if that is the course of action we are to take, then I must return home immediately. We have quite a few things to pack.”

Dancel saw himself out, leaving Gab to finally address the one thing bothering him. He looked up at the painting, trembling as he stared into his parents’ eyes. Their blue and brown gazes were lifeless on the still canvas, yet analyzing and expectant.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered under his breath. He must be mad now, talking to a painting in such a way. “What was I supposed to do?”

Behind him, thunder rumbled. A drop of rain thumped onto the window pane, then another, and another until it poured and battered against the glass. Somehow, the rain only made him feel even guiltier.

“The rain has made it too muddy to travel. The roads will be unable to support the carriage,” said Roush. He had gone out to assess the roads himself, and came back soaked.

“Even if the rain let up, we would not likely reach the coaching inn by nightfall,” Dancel mused.

Ergon frowned. “So we are stuck?”

“I’m afraid so,”

Ergon glared at him, seemingly cursing him with his eyes. Gab knew all he wanted in that very moment was to be with his sister, if not kill him. Having them here was yet another reminder for Gab of what he was failing to do - what he chose not to do. It wasn’t his problem, he tried to tell himself, but the overbearing presence of his guests made him think otherwise.

He could, at the very least, be hospitable.

Gab allowed them to wander his estate with Mrs. Warrick, the head of house, while they cleaned and arranged the guests' rooms. The rest of the day was sombre, with the darkened sky and unexpected company. Dinner was especially grim, with everyone eating in silence. The rain stopped a few hours ago.

“Shall we play some pool after supper?” said Roush.

Dancel smiled at the suggestion. “I think we could all use the entertainment,”

“I shall decline,” Ergon rose from his seat, neatly folding his napkin and tossing it on the table. “I intend to set out at first light, with or without your grace. Good evening, gentlemen.”

In the dimly lit pool room, Gab poured each of them a brandy.

“Anything to toast to?” Dancel asked as he took his glass.

Gab thought for a moment. “Nothing comes to mind.” He handed one to Roush.

“To friends, then?” Roush raised his glass. Gab and Dancel followed.

“To friends.”

Gab wasn’t one for drinking, but the drink went down his throat a little too smoothly that he wanted another glass. The burning against his throat afterwards did relatively little to deter him. He opted to sit out on the first round, not feeling in a particular mood to play just yet. Perhaps he wanted the company, or needed the distraction to battle the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Two glasses became three. His body began to heat up. He shed his coat and vest, and even unclasped the first two buttons of his dress shirt. He had almost forgotten that he was the master of that abode - but at that moment, he felt more like a criminal with an unnameable crime. His conscience faded in and out of the pool room, though the clacking of ivory momentarily grounded him.

“You have a lovely home, Gabriel,” said Roush suddenly. He realized he was trying to include him in their conversation. “It reminds me of the farmlands a little bit, all rustic and cozy. I wonder what this place is like in the spring. Would you wager it’s as beautiful as the blooming meadow near your home, Dancel?”

“I’d wager it’s equal in beauty,” he chuckled, dusting off his cue. “A pity we will not be able to see it this year.”

Roush blinked. “What do you mean?”

Dancel glanced at Gab as he leaned over the table and aimed. “His grace has no intention to marry Daleon, as we know it. Considering this scandal was Daleon’s doing, I thought it was best that we move away.”

A ball rolled into a corner pocket.

Roush looked at Gab, with a disapproving gaze. He shook his head and took position where the white ball lay.

“There must be some other way,”

“We’ve exhausted our options,”

Roush hit a colored ball, but it bounced back on the rails. He shook his head again in dismay. “This will hurt her more than you think it will,”

Gab knew that comment was directed towards him, in addition to Dancel.

“Do not assume you know Daleon better than I do, Roush,” Dancel picked up his cue rather forcefully. His gaze had changed into something colder. “I’m well aware of the pain.”

They watched in silence as Dancel almost got another ball into the pocket. “Ergon is too, but Daleon needs to take responsibility for her choices.”

There was a pause. “When will you leave?”

“If packing goes smoothly, possibly by the end of the week. Of course, I’ll still have some businesses to attend to, so I might remain in London while the twins make transit.”

“You know I’m against it,”

Dancel made it into another pocket. He was ahead of Roush by two points. “I know you are.”

Where had Gab seen all this before? Or could it be this was the battle inside his head somehow manifesting before him?

“Dancel, please reconsider,”

“I’m considering Daleon’s future.”

Gab too was considering it. Could he stomach the idea of her in sorrow? Could he live the rest of his life knowing he practically abandoned her? If she loved him, could he not be kind and be there for her?

He was sure his mother would ask him all these questions. And if she had, Gab would have been forced to act. But she wasn’t there. He asked these questions himself. And he could not bear to deny the answer any longer.

Roush’s breathing became shallow. “Gabriel, say something.”

“Will you keep quiet?” he retorted, rubbing his fingers against his aching temples. “You’re blowing these consequences out of proportion.”

“I think I’m being fairly reasonable,” said Roush, game forgotten. “This is practically self-exile.”

Dancel breathed out through his nose. “I am not leaving the continent,”

“That doesn’t make a difference—“

That was enough. “If only that girl had shown some self-restraint, none of this would have happened!” Gab hurled his glass against the wall, shattering it into pieces. The room went silent. He heaved through his breaths, slouching into his seat when he realized what he had done.

“If only we never met, I wouldn’t be feeling this. And we could all be spared from this misery.” Gab’s throat ached with the words. His nose began to sting, and his vision blurred with the onslaught of tears. But damn him if he cried in front of them, or else he’d never live down that shame. He held his hand over his eyes, wanting to hide.

“I just want us all to do the right thing,” said Roush, his voice cracking. “And I know this isn’t it.”

Footsteps fell rapidly, before the door creaked open and slammed on them.

“I’m afraid the mood has soured. Good night, your grace. Perhaps some other time.” The door opened and closed again, and when Gab looked, they were gone. The pool table was a mess. But he bad no heart to clean it or call for a servant. He knew they would do it eventually.

And Gab knew Roush was right. That stupid baron. When did he have a knack for being the most virtuous out of all of them? Perhaps Daleon was better off marrying him after all - but that would not solve the problem, not efficiently, at least.

He stumbled towards his study, fighting against the weight the alcohol in his system suddenly gave him. He almost tripped towards his desk and pulled open the drawer on the right hand side. With barely any light to see, Gab rummaged through his father’s old ledgers and letters, feeling around until he knocked into what he was looking for:

A small velvet box.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

12 - The Meaning of Night

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King Hijiri’s parties were renowned for being rambunctious and loud, but never in the history of his reign had a ball been so ambitious to have elephants greet guests at the doorway. No wonder some already called it the party of the century. Daleon thought to cover her ears as fireworks exploded behind the palace as she and many other guests arrived.

Inside, pillars of fire and carnival torches illuminated the halls and guest saloons instead of gentle candle-light. It was as if the palace itself had transformed into a realm of mystery and danger. The ballroom was decorated with dark and sensuous red, complimenting the fire that danced in ways before them. The sweet smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air, and along the tables were lined with exotic hors d'oeuvres. The people eyed them curiously, but only a few ventured to taste them. Daleon was sure Zaheer would have loved to try them if he could.

“I heard Lord Fauta had a hand in the decoration, or should I say the induction of certain performers,”

Ergon referred to the acrobats twirling with their hoops where the chandeliers would have been. They smiled and beckoned the guests to join them in their alluring world of wonder. Daleon would have liked to stare if their clothing hadn’t been on the rather exposing side, and making her feel strange. Still, one had to commend Hijiri’s servants for their swift work for their patriarch’s ridiculous demands.

In the whirlwind of velvet coats, Daleon thought she saw a familiar wisp of blonde, and she craned her neck to look, only to see it had been a female performer with a loosely fitted wig. She almost reprimanded herself for expecting. Gab was probably en route to Edengrove by now, she told herself. How blissful must it have been for the gentleman to make up his mind so quickly, and leave a wounded heart in the process. Knowing it would only bring her sorrow, Daleon let out a sigh, and forced herself to push up the corners of her mouth. Such was change, especially if it was abrupt.

Tomo asked her to dance as soon as he saw her. Gab used to do the same. Had the ruse still been in play, she would have glanced at the guests to see if they were staring at them. Now they were meaningless. She had danced the same quadrile so many times, she could do it with her eyes closed. Still, she looked up at Tomo as they danced, the reflection of the flames flickering in his dark eyes. Those were eyes that would look at her forever with love and adoration. She would be a fool not to reciprocate the feelings of an honorable gentleman.

Did that make Daleon want to marry him? Was that reason enough?

The thought of Jellie came suddenly, how distraught she was when her fate was arranged without her consent. This was a far cry from that situation, but she realized that she too arranged for this in a rather roundabout way. She tried to think nothing of it. Tomo would be a wonderful husband. He would treat her like the princess she always envisioned herself to be, perhaps more, so much more, that her feeble mind could not even imagine it. Gab was right: no one else would be a more suitable match for her. The ruse had served its purpose. She squeezed his arms.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Morningstar?”

She almost didn’t hear him. “Quite,” she said, trying to inject as much pep into the word. She feared she might have given her lingering doubt away.

“I was worried as to whether I’ve been too forthright with my affection for you,”

She smiled. “His highness has been nothing but kind and gentile to me. I shall never forget it,”

“Yes.” He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it.

“Is something the matter?”

“There is,” he paused in his steps, glancing at the many people whose eyes were still on them. “But I’d rather we discuss it somewhere else.”

Daleon couldn’t help but remember the night Fauta dragged her outside for something similar. It could not happen twice. There would be no Gabriel to save her after all. She shyly nodded. Tomo escorted her to Ergon, and asked him if he could accompany them as a chaperon. If that hadn’t earned her brother’s approval, she wasn’t sure what would. There was a gleam of acknowledgment in Ergon’s eyes when he took her hand.

They stood just outside the grand french doors leading to the gardens where they had tea. Ergon paced himself a few steps away, standing rugged as if he were an imperial guard himself. The sounds of the party were muffled behind them, and the chirping of crickets pierced the chilly air.

“I shall not keep you in anticipation, my lady,” Tomo began. His breath misted as he exhaled. “My uncle has been rather eager as of late, as you can most likely tell. He has asked me time and time again on when I am to propose to you.”

He glanced back towards the door. “I’m almost certain he’s inside asking Lord Morningstar for your hand, but I have confidence in his grace that he will not give you so willingly,”

“Yes,” Daleon smiled. She was beyond grateful to have a father-figure like Dancel. It would be heartbreaking to have to move away from him once she married. “It’s very gracious of you to tell me of it.”

“Which brings me to my next point. The season is nearing its end, and frankly, I have no intention to make any other calls,” he licked his lips. “I would not wish to leave without a bride. Specifically, I would not wish to leave without you as my bride.”

Daleon held her breath, almost bracing herself for his next words.

“I suppose what I am asking is: will you marry me, Miss Morningstar?”

She massaged her hand as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Are you asking me of your own accord, your highness?”

Tomo offered a curt smile. “I would not have done so if I did not,”

Daleon should have been jumping for joy. Of all the women in the ton, Tomo chose her. Of course, he chose her. She had absolutely no reason to say no. But something clawed at her stomach, forcing her to think otherwise. Was it excitement? Dread? Both?

If she didn’t act now, she could lose her one chance of being married and face ruin. She sounded just like Gab. You will no longer be desirable. His words echoed through her cranium. How like her to believe him.

She opened her mouth.

“Please,” said Tomo, suddenly raising his hand. “Do not answer in haste. I understand this is very sudden, and I would not wish for either of us to get ahead of ourselves.”

He took her hands in his, warming them even through her gloves. She hoped he didn’t notice their trembling. “Think carefully, my lady. For your future is not the only thing to consider. The crown can be cruel at times.”

Even in love, his highness still had to be rational. She admired that in him. And Gab. “Of course,”

Tomo lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles before he left her alone with Ergon.

“What did he say?” Ergon asked.

Daleon didn’t know if she should tell him. She knew Ergon would have accepted the proposal, but she still wasn’t sure of it yet.

“I need time to think,” she replied. “Alone.”

Ergon was about to detest it, but thankfully sense got the better of him. “Don’t stay too long. You’ll catch a cold.”

She shrugged her black shawl over her shoulders. “I won’t,”

Looking out into the garden’s darkened shrubs and hedges painted under the otherworldly blue moonlight, Daleon rested against the stone rails of the stairs. The fireworks cast a faint orange and red glow to them, briefly illuminating their petals against the shadows.

To say she didn’t expect the proposal to happen so soon was an understatement, not when her feelings were so muddled and caught in some other trap. How silly. Would she rather his highness didn’t propose to her? She closed her eyes and imagined what would happen if she accepted his proposal: she’d have the grandest wedding with an adoring public and a crown to earn. She pictured herself walking down the aisle and steadily walking towards an altar covered in lilies. But who waited at the altar wasn’t Tomo. No, it was. Then it switched. It was Gab. She stopped. Even her own mind couldn’t fathom it.

She wanted to slap herself. Gab didn’t want to marry her. And if she married him, she could only imagine the scrutiny she’d face from him alone. It was shameful of her to think that - Gab was not all harsh criticisms and sarcasm. She knew there was kindness and care hidden under that. If only he were here to tell her how foolish she was.

Now wasn’t that silly? It was not as if Gab would suddenly appear if she wished for it. Wouldn’t that have been something? Maybe she could imagine it: him suddenly walking into the gardens just to see her.

Speak of the devil, however, and he shall appear.

At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. But the more she looked, she could see a phantom marching from the blanket of night, moving closer and closer towards the stairs. She thought to run, but stopped when she saw blonde - and the purposeful stride told her it was not a performer.

Cautiously, she picked up her skirts and walked down the stairs, meeting him halfway at the entrance of the garden.

“Gab,”

He was there in his riding coat and boots, long and almost too big for him. Why was he still here? She wanted to touch him to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“I thought you’d already left,” she said.

There was a pause in his reply, a hesitance in his crystalline gaze. “I thought it would be improper if I did not say my goodbyes. To you, specifically,”

How could their tones be so similar, yet so different? She didn’t know whether to feel honored or something else.

“Well, I suppose it would please you to learn that his highness has proposed to me,” she couldn’t stop the bitterness in her voice.

Another pause. This wasn’t like him. “Congratulations,”

“I haven’t said ‘yes’,”

He flinched. “You should. This opportunity will only come once,”

“As you’ve said many times,”

“What’s stopping you now?”

She drew out a shaky breath. “You,”

His brows furrowed, eyes calculating and trying to make sense of her intentions. “What are you playing at?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said. Now that the words were out, her heart was pounding miles a minute, clouding her head with uncertainty.

“You cannot force me to stay,” he spat back.

“I know,”

“Then why?”

“I- I don’t know!” That’s a lie. She knew very well. She just didn’t want to tell him. “Is it wrong for me to want my friend to be with me? Is it wrong for me to be afraid I might never see you again? That once I marry his highness, my life will be over?”

Gab looked lost, as if her words fell upon his deaf ears. “This is ridiculous.” His shoulders heaved with every breath, eyes shifting as if he couldn’t bare to look at her for another minute. “I have wasted my time coming here.”

He turned his back and began to march away.

“Wait!” Daleon’s heart was in her throat. “Grant me this one thing, and I will accept his highness’ proposal. Please.”

Gab looked even more confused. “Why must my actions influence yours?”

“Because—“

She couldn’t say it. But she knew how to show it.

Steeling her chest, she walked up to him, noticing how his eyes shifted to be more on her. It was so unfair of him to have so much control when hers was slipping by the second. She pulled on the lapels of his coat and, without care for Gab’s reaction, crashed her lips into his. A firework exploded behind her. Daleon dared not open her eyes. She knew this was wrong; acting like a deranged, uncivilized person taking advantage of a gentleman. She was no better than a sow. But her feelings had always controlled her more than her logic. If she was to marry Tomo, at least she'll have the memory of his lips on hers. At least, she'll dream of it forever, and ever. That had to suffice.

Placing her hand upon Gab’s cheek, she kept him still. For a moment, she thought he held her. Then reality slapped her with a light shove. There was a bewildered look in Gab’s eyes that for certain mimicked her own.

“What have you done?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and yet the weight of them crushed her soul. What had she done?

She ran back to the ballroom as fast as her dress allowed her to, uncaring for her ankles beginning to ache. She didn’t look back. She burst through the doors, surprising the guests nearby. She pushed past a few people until she finally caught sight of Dancel.

She clutched at his sleeve. “I want to go home.”

“What’s the matter?”

Daleon’s throat seized. “Please,” she croaked. “May we retire for the evening?”

Quietly apologizing to his colleagues, Dancel took Daleon’s hand and led her away while Ergon rushed ahead to call for the coach. They barely made it out of the ballroom when Daleon’s world began to spin, and she collapsed in Dancel’s arms. His worried calls faded in her ears, as all she could think about was the tender touch of Gab’s lips - and the shame that came with it.

Maybe it was all a dream. She hoped, at the very least, no one saw them. Tomorrow it would be another day - and she’d tell Tomo that she accepted his proposal. Because that’s what Gab would have wanted.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

11 - Wildifre

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My Dearest Reader,

It is this author’s unadulterated pleasure to anticipate and expose those who become victims of rule-breaking, love, desire, and lust. However, even I am well-aware of the fate that awaits them at the end of my pen. For some, it is a fate worse than death. How blissful it must be for the ladies and gentlemen whose fates have been arranged, and how blissful it must be for our fair diamond to successfully ensnare the country’s most eligible gentleman…

Zaheer entered the drawing room with a large box in hand. “Daleon, your new dress has arrived,”

Daleon opened the box to find a baby blue chiffon dress with pink cherry blossoms scattered across the bust and over the sleeves. As beautiful as the dress was, the blue reminded her of Gab’s eyes - a strange and oddly specific association. She pursed her lips at the thought.

Dancel looked up from his book. “Is it not to your liking?”

“No, it’s lovely, your grace. I’ll wear it on our outing today,” she nodded to Zaheer to take it away. Swallowing the aching lump in her throat, she returned to her seat and slouched. She flipped through the pages of her book mindlessly, while trying to control her breathing.

“You’ve been vacant since our trip to the palace,” Dancel mused. “I’m wondering if Gabriel’s recent absences have something to do with it?”

It was silly how a thing as simple words shattered one’s heart. Gab certainly had a way with saying and keeping them. Never before had Daleon wished the man was something of a tease. Since their visit to the palace, neither Gab nor Jellie presented themselves at soirees and parties. With each night they were absent, the expectation to see them waned - as did the pain of disappointment. Or so she thought.

In her quiet moments, the thought of Gab consumed her. His face hung like a ghost in the corners of her mind, ready to come to the forefront when she least expected it. She hated the melancholy it brought, for in her mind, it was as if the man had passed. She hated the helplessness of it all even more.

“He must have been very special to you,” said Dancel. “A pity. I had another surprise for you, but if you would wish to have some time for yourself, perhaps I can ask him to leave his present behind?”

She perked up at the mention of a guest. “Him?”

It was Roush who knocked on the door, beaming as he entered. “I brought some of your favorite pastries.”

Daleon ran up to embrace him, uncaring for her lack of decorum around a gentleman with no familial relation. Roush laughed as he returned her affections.

“Daleon,” Dancel called in a warning tone.

“Don’t be too harsh on her,” said Roush. “You’re not so different when I visit every summer.”

Dancel closed his book with a thud. “It would be in your best interest not to tease me, Baron. But while you’re here, perhaps you can help me. Daleon is not feeling well,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roush held Daleon’s face in his hands, gently pinching her cheeks. “She’s beautiful as always, the perfect picture of health.”

“How is Jellie?” She asked.

Roush and Dancel glanced at each other. “She’s managing as well as she can. Though, ‘well’ is perhaps not the best term to use,”

She swallowed. “And Gab?”

“I don’t see him as well as I’d like. He’s often out of Stewart Hall making Ainsworth’s calls on his behalf,”

She tried to hide her dejection, moving back to her seat on the settee while Dancel asked Zaheer to make some tea. Even the crisp smell of peppermint did little to sway her into enthusiasm.

“I’ll be sure to tell him when I see him.” Roush took the seat beside her. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to call on you—”

Daleon felt her heart jump into her throat. “No. He told me he can’t. Or rather, we made an agreement that we wouldn’t.”

“An agreement?” There was a curious gleam in Dancel’s eye, and Daleon knew she had some explaining to do. She told them everything from the night they met, and how every meeting since had been planned for their social benefit. It was all bittersweet to recall how she practically denied the advances of perfectly suitable gentlemen, because it was Gab’s company she sought. Though she sought Tomo's company too - under the expectation that she and Gab would remain acquainted. She realized then that she had doomed herself by allowing their arrangement to get into her head.

“But you made that agreement months ago,” said Roush. “Surely a bond has grown between you two.”

“Gab doesn’t seem to think so, or if he does, it does not appear worthwhile. I know it’s such a trivial thing to be forlorn about but...” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“My darling, there is no shame in admitting that you have feelings for the Duke,”

Roush agreed. “Gab is a good man. I know he appears harsh with his rational and logical disposition, but he thinks of the family a lot. And does things for everyone’s best interest. He would be very lucky to know that there is someone like you who cares for him,”

Daleon smiled sadly. “I find him beautiful and charming in his own harsh way.” Just speaking of it made her chest flutter. “I would have liked to spend more time with him. But it doesn’t matter now. It wouldn’t do me well to dwell on it. Prince Tomo is a lovely man, and everyone is looking forward to me becoming a princess. He can make me happy. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?”

Even she was mortified by her own words. They must have thought she had gone mad. A silence as heavy as a storm-cloud hung over them, painting the room in a visible bleakness. Daleon was going to burst if they didn’t say something. Anything would do, just so long as it eased the pain or perhaps gave her an idea of what to do next.

Roush took Daleon’s hand and said: “Convincing yourself you can love someone is not the same as actually loving them,”

Of course Daleon knew it wasn’t the same. She let out a sob, hot tears streaming down her face. “But why does it hurt so much?”

Tea and scones forgotten, Dancel knelt in front of his little girl and wiped away her tears. “You have time, my dear,” he said. “Plenty to think before you do something you may regret.”

If only it were easier said than done. If only she could wipe Gab’s face from her memory. The more she thought of it, the more she thought it was impossible.

A while after she stopped crying, Ergon joined them for their promised walk in Mayfair. It appeared more festive than normal, with brightly decorated stalls and booths erected on the bright patches of grass along the walkway, and the loud cheers and laughs of the people passing by. Tomo himself set out to meet them as they arrived, pausing at the sight of Daleon.

“Your dress,” Tomo’s eyes raked over her figure, looking almost shy of her. She looked down on herself, worried that she might have soiled it without her knowing. But he stared in silence with his jaw slightly agape, and for a moment Daleon wondered if the dress itself bothered him.

“I’d be happy to change to something more neutral—”

“No,” Tomo reached for her hand, lips easing into a smile that made his usually stern gaze seem kinder. “I think it suits you immaculately. In fact, I’m stunned. You are beautiful, Miss Morningstar. Like a pink lotus.”

The words provided a brief distraction to Daleon’s thoughts. She gladly placed her hand in Tomo’s arm, allowing the butterflies of romance to sway her as Tomo asked her about her morning. She took careful care not to mention Gab, but doing so only made her think of him. She found another distraction as she and Tomo went on promenade.

All along the paths were stalls holding games and activities. A traveling circus was passing through London, and upon hearing the news, Hijiri spontaneously organized an event to make the most of their presence. There were acrobats and clowns juggling, entertaining the people and passers-by. It was all a spectacle Daleon would have liked to see, if only her mind did not wander this way and that.

She and Tomo walked a little further until they reached a clearing with targets fifty yards away. She saw a rack of bows and a table holding thick leather gloves. A few women, much older than Daleon, wore green and red leather vests over their dresses, bows and quivers in hand. One of them stepped forward, drawing their bow and releasing an arrow through the air, almost hitting the bullseye of the target across her. Behind them, people clapped.

“Would you like to try, Miss Morningstar?” said Tomo. “I assure you it will be quite safe.”

She rubbed her hands through her thin satin gloves, a little uncertain at the invitation. “I would not wish to impose,”

“I’ll be more than happy to teach you,” Tomo smiled at her, before instructing one of his servants to fetch them some gloves and a bow. "Though I am admittedly a little rusty at the sport."

Tomo gave clear instructions that Daleon found quite simple in theory. But the foreign weight of the bow and her frail arms made it difficult for her to pull the string to its full capacity. She was also oddly fearful of the possibility the string would snap and hit her face. Still, she tried to brave through it and steady her grip.

She was well in the midst of trying to sight off when a familiar voice made her blood go cold.

“Why did you bring me here? I should be packing my things,”

“Consider it a goodbye gift. You’ve done so much for us after all,”

“Only because I was dragged into this mess. A mess you played a part in, I might add,”

She yelped at the snap of the string as she loosened her fingers unintentionally.

“My apologies, your highness,” she said quickly, turning to Tomo to inspect him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Tomo shakily laughed, surprised as she was. “I’m alright, my lady. No need for worry,”

It had to have been her imagination, but when she looked, she saw Gab and Fauta approaching them. There was a scowl on Gab’s face as their eyes met.

“Your grace,” she gasped out of instinct. “What are you doing here?”

“I asked Lord Fauta to invite him,” Tomo answered. “I heard from Lord Fauta that His Grace was fond of the sport, and I was intrigued. I apologize if you had more pressing matters. I overheard you were leaving?”

“Yes,” Gab forced a smile, his eyes clearly flitted towards her. “My cousin Mika will now oversee Miss Stewart’s engagement to his highness, Prince Lakas. Lord Ainsworth has nothing else for me to attend to, so I intend to leave this evening,”

So this was goodbye. For good. She furiously blinked away the growing tears at the thought and tried not to make a face.

“Indeed? Well, I apologize for disrupting your packing, your grace,”

“Seeing as I’ve made my way here,” Gab glared at Fauta. “It would be rude to decline. Besides, it has been some time since I last shot in the spirit of competition. I would not wish to lose my touch.”

Tomo smiled at this. “Most excellent. Would you give me a moment? I was teaching Miss Morningstar how to hold a bow. Perhaps it will be a shared pastime between us in the future.”

Daleon saw Gab’s jaw clench. “Of course,”

A servant brought Gab and Fauta away to assist them with donning their vests and gloves. The corners of Gab’s lips twitched upwards when the bow made its way to him. As he adjusted his grip, the smile grew little by little. It was magic watching him pick up an arrow and stretch the bow far enough that it looked as if it would break. A few locks of his hair moved as he breathed out and released, the arrow landing an inch away from the bullseye. She absentmindedly clapped. Beautiful.

“Not bad,” said Fauta behind him.

Gab frowned. “Not good enough,”

The sight of him made her knees buckle. God help her, for she desperately wished to speak with him, especially knowing that it would possibly be the last time. It simply couldn’t end like this. But what could she say?

“You are too hard on yourself, your grace,” she said.

“Yes,” Tomo was also distracted by Gab’s demonstration. “It seems I have much to learn from a marksman such as yourself.”

Gab stared at Daleon as Tomo spoke. It was hard to read his eyes, but Daleon had the strangest intuition that he wanted to say something to her, but decided against it. The Duke quickly turned his head to Tomo. “I’m sure all you need is a little practice, your highness,”

Tomo sighed. “My travels have kept me from the bow for a long time, I’m afraid. Hopefully, I haven’t lost too much of my touch either.”

He helped Daleon hold her bow again, this time with an arrow, gently instructing her with whispers so close to her ear it made her involuntarily shiver. She pulled on the string until she could touch her ear, straining against the wood and string. She was about to let the arrow loose when Gab intervened.

“She’ll hurt herself if she does it that way,”

He walked over to them and adjusted Daleon’s elbow, pushing it inward until her knuckles brushed her cheek and adjusted her fingers on the bow’s grip. Tomo must have moved away, for Gab stood so close to her ear it sent her heart pounding wildly in her eardrums.

“And keep your chest in. The string will hit you if you don’t,”

Her chest in? “I don’t understand,” that and her head was swimming from how close he suddenly was.

Gab clicked his tongue and boldly pressed his palm against her belly, pushing against her corset to keep her chest from getting caught in the string. Never mind that Tomo and Fauta were potentially still watching them, Daleon thought she would melt from the heat emanating from his palm, seeping into her belly and spreading throughout her like wildfire. It electrified her, taking all her focus away from the target and onto his touch.

Out of the corner of her eye, she stared at him, wondering, almost begging to know his thoughts, while her own remained at odds. Why? Why did this feel exciting? Why did she like it? It was cruel to Tomo, who was intellectual, romantic, and caring - truly the man she had long desired, who fit every criteria she sought. Gab was admittedly the complete opposite, but why did Gab make her feel like this, when Tomo could not?

Being in the arms of the man in question, and under the clear gaze of the other, was certainly not the optimal time to think about such things. Society expected her to become princess soon, and she could imagine the disappointment and scrutiny she would face if she didn’t marry him. But the thought of it all seemed so worthless while she was in Gab’s embrace.

She fit perfectly. She didn’t want to think it, but she fit perfectly. She didn’t want Tomo. She wanted Gab. She had always wanted him.

“Focus Daleon,”

She could have sworn he said ‘Miss Morningstar,’ but she longed to hear him say her name again. She felt his hand slip away. Time seemed to slow, and she was the calmest she ever felt when Gab told her to release the arrow. It pierced straight through the bullseye.

Overwhelmed with the cacophony of emotions twisting and bubbling inside her, she let out a little gasp. Tomo and Fauta clapped, calling her a natural.

“Hmph. Beginner’s luck,” Gab grumbled. But Daleon could see the pained look on his face, and he kept his hands behind her back as he looked away from her. He took up his own bow and began to practice his own shots. Some of his arrows hit the bullseye, but more seemed to dance around it, as if his heart was in a state of disarray. He didn't say anything afterwards, but shot arrow after arrow after arrow.

Daleon didn’t know what to think or feel. The skin of her abdomen still vibrated from Gab’s touch, warm enough to almost induce a fever. Worse, she knew she could never be satisfied if things ended here - but she also knew it might have been too late. Gab was leaving, and neither of them could say goodbye.

Truly, it was a fate worse than death.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

10 - Uproot

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Gab explored the gardens, turning east in hopes to go unnoticed by the king’s party. He came across a flowering courtyard adjacent to a lake. He could see Jellie in the distance: a white ghost moving rapidly against the green shrubs and hedges. When Gab finally caught up to her, she had trudged into the waters until she was waist deep, her mint green dress darkening with lake water. Her shoulders shook from the growing cold. The stillness of the lake was unnerving, especially against the pleasant weather and the pristine powdered sky. Jellie seemed to stare into the distance, beyond the vastness of moss and mirrors.

“What are you doing?” Gab shouted.

“Thinking of drowning,” she shouted back. “Don’t try to stop me. If you tell them, I’ll haunt you from the grave.”

“You are welcome to try,” he shed off his coat, tossing it onto the grass, and rolled up his sleeves. If she tried to drown herself, he would drag her out. “You are in enough trouble as it is.”

Her head whipped around to face him. “If Papa loved me, he wouldn’t do this,” her voice cracked. “Does he not love me anymore?”

“Ainsworth wants you to be safe, provided for—”

“As some stranger’s wife,” Jellie scoffed. “And in exchange I am to be subjected to the prisons of motherhood? Did it not even once cross anyone’s mind to ask if I liked children? If I had other plans for myself aside from yours?”

Gad sighed. “At least give his highness a chance. Perhaps he will not be as dreadful as you think he is,”

“And if I don’t like him?”

“Ainsworth will expect you to bear with it, perhaps you may find something else to be happy about.” There was the option of divorce, but Gab doubted Jellie would want to engage in scandal if it meant tarnishing Ainsworth’s good name. “Surely even you understand how society is unkind to unmarried women—”

”For God’s sake Gab, put yourself in my shoes. Put yourself in Daleon’s shoes. Do you think Daleon would be happy if Dancel told her to marry someone else she did not want?”

“What does Da- Miss Morningstar have to do with this?”

She crossed her arms. “If you won’t think about it the way I feel, maybe you will for someone you actually care about,”

Gab sneered. “I don’t care about her,”

“That’s not what your face said at tea this afternoon,” her distressed expression changed to something of mockery, as if she had forgotten her own strife for just a spell. “You’re jealous of Tomo, it’s clear as day. You haven’t taken your eyes off her since you saw them this morning.”

His upper lip twitched at the memory of Tomo kissing Daleon’s hand. Gab admitted he was less focused on the discussion of business at tea, and more on the ghastly display of interest and affection. That did not mean he was jealous. What nonsense.

“We are not talking about her, we are talking about you,” his chest began to close in on him, like a vise. A familiar image of pink began to front in his mind.

“Wouldn’t you want Daleon to be happy?”

“I—”

The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, but he did not want to reveal anything. Not to Jellie, not to anyone. He didn’t even want to face it himself; that growing feeling of familiarity. But he could control it, that he was sure of. Feelings muddled the mind, and confused one’s purpose. Daleon’s persistence of the importance of her feelings was enough to drive a man mad. It frustrated Gab, and yet-

“As troublesome as she is. I would not want her to suffer,”

“If I marry, I am going to suffer. I’ll suffer at the hands of my husband, my in-laws, even Papa will be upset if I don’t do as a woman should. I want to make Papa happy,” she picked at the lace of her soaked gloves. “But not like this. I don’t want to be kept in a cage for the rest of my life. Please Gab, don’t make me do this. Please.”

She bit her lip, but it did little to prevent the downward tug of her lips, and the blooming redness in her eyes and cheeks.

Gab didn’t know what to feel knowing he was equally powerless in this situation. But more precisely, he could not understand nor empathize with Jellie at all. He felt sympathy, perhaps, as one would for a family member.

Jellie did not move, and Gab knew she wasn’t going to come quietly. He marched into the waters, uncaring for the water, seeping into his boots, his pants, and shirt. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and hooked the other under her knees, lifting her until she was in his arms, and water dripped steadily from the hems of her gown. Now that brute force was involved, Jellie did not resist, but perhaps she had simply grown too tired, emotionally and physically. Still, a soaked dress and her body weight proved to be a struggle. Better her alive than dead, Gab supposed.

He set her on her feet the moment they were out of the water. He picked up his coat and draped it over her shaking shoulders.

“You can cry on the way back if you’re so petulant,” he said. “But you better stop in the presence of company.”

As Gab gently guided her away, Jellie’s lips trembled and her eyes misted over. She buried her head in the crook of his neck as he guided her out. Her quiet sniffling and hot tears on his neck pierced through the quiet afternoon.

By the time they returned, Gab was as much a sopping mess himself, chilled to the bone that his teeth began to chatter behind his closed lips. Tomo graciously whisked them to separate rooms for a warm bath. Gab would have been honored for the opportunity - if he could admit the reason for it with something actually honorable.

Alone in the large and fairly lit room surrounded by small Greek statues of goddesses whose names he could not recall, he sunk deeper into the bronze tub until the milky water covered his shoulders. By now, a servant might have informed Ainsworth of what happened. He could only imagine the kind of reprimand he would receive, or better yet, the sermon. Gab was admittedly used to them, but he was probably more ashamed of the fact that he couldn’t keep Jellie under control. Something told him that things were only going to get worse. Gods, today was horrid.

“Gab,” Daleon’s voice from beyond the door almost made him jump. “Are you alright?”

“I am well enough,” he shouted, just enough for her to hear. Surely she realized that he was in a rather vulnerable position at the moment? He rose from the tub and reached for a towel hanging on a rack next to it, quickly securing it around his waist. “Is his highness with you?”

“He’s gone to fetch something for Jellie, and a servant has been sent to Stewart Hall for your spare clothes. I… I thought I could keep you company. Is that not good?”

No. He’d rather be alone for the next few minutes, thinking about how to deal with the coming days. Without question, he would be the liaison and chaperon between their family and Prince Lakas’. And if it was to be, there was a possibility that he and Prince Tomo would meet often, possibly with Daleon by his side. His chest began to feel hollow, as if there were gas expanding inside him until there was no room to breathe.

“With all due respect, Miss Morningstar, you have a terrible tendency of getting yourself involved in matters that aren’t your own,” he could feel his head getting lighter with the heat of shame and rage rising in him.

He could see it: him standing beside Jellie trying to make conversation on her behalf, Daleon and Tomo within his line of sight - a perfectly normal image, and yet it bothered him, so much so that the more he thought of it, the more it dug into him like roots thriving and reaching deep, deep into the earth, taking hold of him with such insignificant festering tendrils that could easily be uprooted.

“I- I’m sorry. I’m simply…worried for you…and Jellie. I’m worried for what’s going to happen to her,”

He breathed deeply to calm himself, stepping out of the tub before his toes pruned. He grabbed a second towel for his hair.

“I suppose you have nothing better to do than meddle in the affairs of other families,” he said, sarcasm coating his tone.

“… I know it’s none of my business. But you and Jellie are my friends. I would not wish to see you distraught. And as a lady, I can’t help but put myself in her shoes…That’s all,”

He sighed. “She’s going to be alright. I’ll make sure of it,”

“…And you?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“Are you…truly alright with all of this? Aren’t you worried for what will happen to her?”

He wasn’t. In his eyes, it would do everyone a little service if Jellie actually married. She would be someone else’s problem - unless some scandal would happen with her future husband, then Jellie would be in some terrible spot of trouble.

He found it ironic that Daleon would feign concern for him. No one else ever cared about how he felt. They dragged him out of the comfort of his home and into the society his parents no longer needed; throwing him into gatherings where people tried to insert themselves into his personal affairs, Daleon especially. Though he had no one to blame for himself for her presence, that didn’t mean she could treat him like an open book, or pry into what he felt or thought.

There was a hush at the door, followed by a knock. “Your grace, your spare clothes have arrived,”

The door opened a sliver, allowing in a servant Gab recognized from Stewart Hall. After he dressed, he left to find the prince, only to see him with Daleon outside the chamber.

“Your highness, I am most grateful for the kindness you have bestowed,”

Tomo raised a hand. “Think nothing of it, your grace. Miss Morningstar here was as worried as I was,”

She turned pink at the mention of her, and there it was again: the roots crawling deep into him, clutching at his chest and stomach. “I thank you, but it was highly unnecessary,”

“On the contrary, your grace, I believe it is an honor to be acquainted with such a wonderful lady,”

Gab’s fingers twitched at his words. “Yes, I share the sentiment,”

Tomo took Daleon’s hand and affectionately patted it, her face brightening at the gesture. That image of Daleon’s hand in someone else’s would etch itself into him for days on end. And in his good conscience, now that the forward path was clear, he could not allow those same baseless, ridiculous thoughts to consume him.

By the good graces of the sun setting in the west, and with night fast approaching, his majesty bid his fair guests farewell. He told Gab to come see him on the following week, naturally, with Jellie in tow.

“Your grace!”

Gab and his company were about to board their carriage when Daleon called him. Honestly, how daft can a woman be, calling for a man’s attention when there were people watching? He clenched his jaw and approached her, out of earshot of both their carriages, yet still in perfect view of them.

“What on good earth could you possibly want now?”

Daleon, taken aback by his reproach, stepped back. “I simply hoped to wish you off—”

“Again, highly unnecessary,” he retorted. He took a deep breath before adding on. “You cannot afford to put me and or anyone else above you now.”

She blinked in confusion. “What—”

“Your friendship with me distracts you,” as much as it apparently distracted him, he wanted to add. “If that is the case, perhaps it is best if we go our separate ways now.”

Daleon’s mouth opened and closed, and he could see the poor thing trying to make sense of his words with little avail. “What are you trying to say?”

He breathed out through his nose. “I believe it’s best if we terminate our agreement,”

There was a pause. “But…Jellie isn’t married yet.”

“Her engagement to Prince Lakas is set in stone. And you must set your sights on getting yourself engaged to Prince Tomo,”

She shook her head, her eyes widening with bewilderment at Gab’s words. “It’s still too soon to tell,”

His emotions began to bubble up inside him, spilling forth from his lips as he continued.

“This display of so-called concern is unbecoming, for multiple reasons I might add. If you will not think for yourself, then I will. If you fail to maintain the prince’s hand now, your reputation and desirability will diminish should he choose to end this season without you as his wife. Even if I am by your side, if we do not marry, which we both admit we would never do, your dream will never be realized. People will find you undesirable then, Daleon. Do you want that?”

Her lips tensed and straightened. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to speak with you as a friend,”

“A friendship between us will not work,” he said with bitterness.

Daleon’s eyes began to gleam and twinkle, not with the naive brightness he once associated them with, but with clear, crystal sorrow.

“So, this is goodbye?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “It is for the best. For what it was worth, Daleon, my time with you was…lovely,”

Gab was sure he would never forget her heartbroken expression. Her face was going to remain engraved in his memory for the rest of his days. And while the rational part of him wished to forget, he had a sick, twisted feeling his heart would not.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

9 - Silver Lining

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Daleon considered herself well-versed in small talk. She left men speechless with her demeanor, and for an instant, she thought she’d make the same of Tomo. Tomo, however, made it clear that she would not be the one to direct the flow of conversation, but him. She could not charm him. In fact, her mind blanked in his presence. He was rather intimidating, as if he had no care for whatever a woman had to offer. What would a prince want in a woman when he already had a crown and power? But Daleon supposed he was here for something more.

“I take you enjoy the clotted-cream pastries, my lady?” His voice, deep, melodious, and firm, almost lulled her into a trance.

“You seem to see right through me, your highness,” her hands trembled as he handed her a plate of cream puffs and fresh fruit.

“I’m sure it is a coincidence. I enjoy them as well,”

Her brows rose. “I must say it’s the first time I’ve heard some one other than our butler admit they like sweets,”

“I am not ashamed of being forthright with my likes and dislikes,” he picked up a tart and took a bite, chewing before swallowing. “And Lady Gracewood’s cooks are quite talented.” He smiled.

Daleon’s nervousness gradually began to fade. Perhaps she and Prince Tomo would get along after all. She wasn’t the only one who seemed to think so.

“Helping yourself already? Don’t over do it now,” Hijiri sauntered up to them, staring at Daleon. “Isn’t she lovely Tomo?”

Tomo finished his tart before replying. “It’s hard to judge a character from just two minutes of speaking with them. But even from a brief introduction, she has been most welcoming,"

His onyx eyes bore into hers, sharp-ish and analytical, but soft with understanding. Daleon did not want to look away, and she couldn’t help but recall Gab’s eyes and how she found them quite similar.

Hijiri laughed. “Wonderful. In that case, why don’t we invite Miss Morningstar and her family at the palace?”

Daleon flushed, almost missing the king’s words entirely.

“Just imagine it: a gathering of London’s shining jewels—”

“Uncle, please, not another one of your ‘gossiping’ parties. I’m sure the lady has plans of her own,”

Hijiri took one of Daleon’s hands and clasped it between his. “I hope you and Dancel do come. It is sure to be quite a party. Hm, I must also invite the Driscols. Ah, there he is, Lord Gabriel!”

Gab turned, eyes wide in bewilderment at the king calling his name so loudly. He promptly marched towards them. His eyes fell on Daleon for a moment. “Your Majesty,”

“Join us for afternoon tea tomorrow,” he said. “And if you can, bring Ainsworth with you. I have a proposition for the old man,”

He pursed his lips at the mention of Ainsworth. As if to disregard the implication of his silence, he bowed his head. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

“Now then,” Hijiri grabbed Tomo by the shoulder. “As much as I would hate to interrupt your time with Miss Morningstar, you have an adoring public who wishes to see you,”

Tomo nodded. “Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Miss Morningstar. Lord Driscol,”

With bows and curtsies, the two royals left.

“So,” said Gab as soon as they were out of earshot. “It would seem fate has brought you a prince at last,”

It was strange of him to make conversation with her first. But at the subject, she allowed herself to grin. “He’s very charming.”

She held out her plate towards him. “Cream puff?”

“Thank you, but I shall decline. I’ll do much better with a sandwich,” he stood closer to her, watching as the festivities unfolded before them. Daleon picked up the pastry and ate it.

“You mustn’t waste this opportunity,” said Gab. “It will be an utmost triumph for you should he ask for your hand before the season’s end.”

“Do you think he would?”

Gab raised an inquisitive brow. “Proper gentlemen are sure in their decisions. He will not hesitate if you have your prospects well in hand. It would do you well to present yourself as his best choice.”

But aren’t I already the best choice? Daleon thought - which didn’t seem correct to her.

“You’re certainly right,” she said instead, voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t want him to know how excited she was for both the coming day. “But tonight was a most excellent start,”

Gab sighed. “Let’s hope it stays that way, for both our sakes,”

She began to wonder what the king had in store for them both. “Do you think the king would introduce a princess to you? Perhaps another noble lady?”

Gab looked at her. “I wouldn’t put it above the king to do such a thing. He’s always eager to play matchmaker with how leisurely this echelon of society spends its days. Poor thing must be bored in that palace of his, thinking marriage is so easy,”

“You sound as if you know what it’s like,”

A pause. “Perhaps I do,”

The king’s fondness of extravagance should be no surprise when he lived in such a grand abode. It was hard for Daleon to even fathom how one could be bored of such a place. The ceilings were as high as grand cathedrals, and she could see embellishments of gold in the pillars and the molding of the floors. They walked through a grand hall of paintings of the king, his wife, and his predecessors, all framed with intricately crafted gold. One in particular caught Daleon’s eye.

“I’d recognize your work anywhere,” she said to Dancel, who also gazed up at the somber painting of the king and his wife. The couple was surrounded by wreaths of flowers and shrubs against a darkened backdrop.

“The king requests a different one every year,” he said. “It was a great honor painting them.”

They entered a ballroom already bustling with a few of the king’s court and the handful of guests he invited. She caught Fauta, Gab, and Jellie huddled together in the back corner by a grand arched window, speaking in turn with a man Daleon assumed to be Lord Ainsworth. His pale silver hair had an ethereal golden glow, exuding an aura of power and wisdom that far exceeded his age. He had the bearings of an ancient soul who had forsaken the comforts of an otherworldly abode and walked the earth for as long as it stood. She understood then why the house of Paradiso was home to such handsome sons and beautiful daughters. She was staring at angels. She could see the faintest resemblance of Ainsworth in Gab: in the way they held themselves straight, the way their expressions were stern but gentle, full of memory and sorrow. They stood out like beacons in the flurry of dark coats and pastel dresses, almost outshining the pale sunlight that pilfered into the room.

As if sensing their arrival, Gab’s eyes shot up. Their gazes met, and Daleon smiled in greeting. Fauta too saw, and excusing himself from his company made his way towards them. Ergon’s arm tensed, and Daleon felt a sudden surge of warmth.

“Lord Driscol,” she bowed her head. “It is wonderful to see you again.”

Fauta smiled. “I could not be more honored with you still holding kind regards for me, my lady. Perhaps you shall permit me to steal your affections once more,” he said with a teasing tone.

Beside them, Ergon cleared his throat. A warning.

“It is a…strange kindness I will not forget,” she said. The memory of him trying to kiss her sent shivers down her arm. But the man had not harmed her. And as far as she could tell, his intentions had never been evil - misguided, perhaps, as Gab might have suggested.

“Oh Dally, thank goodness you’re here,” Jellie almost jumped onto her, clinging quite forcefully to Daleon’s other arm. “I was terrified of being the only lady. Save me by charming all the gentlemen away. I don’t want them.”

She still never understood why the young Stewart didn’t want to marry, but Daleon had never found the time to ask. She reassured her friend with a gentle pat of her hand.

Gab approached them with Lord Ainsworth. It was Dancel who greeted them first. “Lord Ainsworth, You look the image of health,”

Ainsworth forced a smile. “Your grace. It has been some time indeed. The last I saw you, you were just a boy entering manhood. You never allowed anyone to see you after your father passed, so if I may, I’d like to offer my duly late condolences.”

“I understand you and my father were good friends. If anything, I should be apologizing for being selfish and rather cold during the whole ordeal,”

Nodding in understanding, Ainsworth cast his gaze upon Daleon.

“I can see why Gabriel has taken to you,” he said, much to both of their surprises.

“My lord—” they said in unison, as if one was about to explain for the other. They looked at each other, and it was as if all the words on their tongue melted away. Daleon’s face grew warm.

“Lady Nightbloom exaggerates. It is nothing like that,” said Gab. “We are merely friends.”

“I would not be so sure,” said Ainsworth, turning to face Gab. “Friendship serves a substantial foundation of any great marriage.”

Now it was Gab’s turn to be flustered. “My lord—”

A sudden fanfare was followed by the two grand doors opening for the king and prince. Had it not been for their more regal way of dress, with a king’s crown and the prince’s cape, it would have been easy to mistake them for normal people. It was always surreal to witness their presence commanded the respect of an entire room, although that may have been more of Tomo’s influence than Hijiri’s.

Once they had finished with rather general greetings, the royals made a direct beeline for the Morningstars.

“Miss Morningstar,” said Tomo, smiling. “I am most pleased you could make it.”

“The honor has been mine, your highness,”

“Offer her your gift,” said Hijiri, almost as if he were commanding Tomo. Tomo glared at his uncle and the servant waiting behind him. He sighed and motioned for the servant, who presented to her a long velvet box. When it opened, she saw stars in broad daylight - a bracelet of diamonds embedded across a silver chain.

Tomo lifted the jewels. “May I?”

Daleon shyly gave her hand and held a breath as Tomo’s fingers brushed her skin as he gently clasped the bracelet around her wrist.

“It’s beautiful,” said Daleon.

“Perhaps not as beautiful as the lady wearing them,” he lifted her knuckles to his lips.

“Thank you, your highness,” her voice quivered. The corners of her mouth turned upwards and they wanted to keep going up. She had to bite her tongue to make sure she didn’t look a happy fool. She stared at the bracelet, her hands buzzing with remnants of Tomo’s touch. Enthralled by the gesture, Daleon’s hearts skipped beats, and she withheld the urge to make any sort of noise.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Gab staring at them.

They served tea in the garden, underneath large cloth canopies, swaying with the pleasant western breeze. The Morningstars and the Driscol-Stewarts sat at the king’s table, while other guests sat at smaller tables not far from them, partaking in savory sandwiches and buttery crumpets. While the ton’s renowned gentlemen and dear friends spoke of money and relations, Tomo made Daleon feel as they were in a little world of their own, speaking of distant lands Daleon almost wished to see. Tomo spoke to her of the warm weather of the Southeast, where the sun scorched on the skin, and the wind smelled of salt and charcoal.

“It pleases me to see you two get along well,” said Hijiri. When Daleon turned to look, everyone at the table had their eyes on them.

She glanced at Gabriel sitting across from her. He did not seem keen in partaking in their conversation either. He stirred his tea almost meditatively, scooping some of it into the spoon and taking a sip, like it was soup.

Hijiri noticed she was staring at him. “I hope poor old Gabriel won’t be too upset, given the rumors,”

At the mention of his name, the Duke realized what he had been doing. He set his spoon on the saucer. “I don’t believe I have any reason to be,” he said. “Miss Morningstar is entitled to her decisions in marriage, which she has made abundantly clear.”

What did he mean by that?

“I hoped you would announce your engagement,” the king chuckled, casting a sidelong glance at Daleon. “You’re as boring as your uncle.”

“If Gabriel’s caution and respect for a lady is considered boring, then I should very well be proud,” said Ainsworth in kind.

“I am not here to tease you, my good friend. I wish to conduct business with you as much as I intend to indulge us in leisure. And I’m sure some fresh air will do you good, seeing as you’re always cooped up in your home, praying every hour, no doubt?”

“If one’s life is not devoted to prayer or the rearing of their children, why I’d find that to be a very dull life indeed. But tell me of your business so that I may consider it,”

Hijiri glanced at Tomo. “We have allies in the east, sons, who wish to take up wives in the west,”

Ainsworth did not react. “And you wish me to offer my Angela, I assume? Why not save us both the trouble and have her engaged to his highness instead?”

Daleon’s eyes first fell to Gab, who shared her gaze for a brief moment, before falling to Jellie’s whose face drained of color at the boldness of the discussion before her. She began to sway in her seat, and Daleon feared she would collapse. The sight made Daleon a little faint herself. Beside her, Tomo clenched his jaw, and the aura emanating from him had changed into something more heated. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hijiri raised a hand.

“This son of the east also happens to be a prince. His name is Prince Lakas, if my memory serves me well,”

Some of Hijiri’s guests began to break into excited murmurs, but it was only because their table had gone deadly quiet. Jellie appeared to make herself small, like she wanted to close in on herself.

“Isn’t this…good news?” Daleon whispered, only loud enough for Dancel to hear. The duke frowned, but took Daleon’s hand and patted it.

“Someone with far more diverse interests and opportunities will be a wonderful match for your Jellie, wouldn’t you agree?” Hijiri continued. “I heard she enjoys being outdoors.”

Ainsworth nodded. “Yes. But I would loathe to say my king is offering promises of which there is no proof of certainty,”

“Only a man as reasonable as you would doubt their king. We can make sure of it, won’t we, Tomo?”

“The only thing I will say is this is an awfully distasteful topic to discuss,” Tomo's lips drew into a straight line. “And in the presence of the lady in question, I might add.”

Dancel quietly hummed in acknowledgment.

“Your highness, this is my granddaughter’s future we are discussing,” Ainsworth replied. “I want what is best for her. And His Majesty is offering a prospect I would be a fool to otherwise refuse.”

The look on Jellie’s face told them otherwise. She let out a shaky sigh. It was as if her thoughts and feelings didn’t matter to them. Daleon did not know what to make of it.

“I only ask in consideration of the ladies present,” Tomo continued. “If business must be spoken of, then might I urge Miss Morningstar and Miss Stewart to relax in the library? I’m sure they will be more entertained than having to sit around like waiting ducks.” He turned to Dancel, Ergon, and by intent Gab and Fauta. “My lords, you are welcome to accompany us as chaperon.”

“I shall gladly take your offer, your highness,” Dancel stood from his seat and took Daleon’s hand in his.

The king only sighed. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them. Fauta opted to stay. Gab stared at Daleon, and she found herself staring back. Heaving a sigh, the Duke rose from his seat and moved to escort Jellie, but she beat him to it. She stood abruptly and marched towards the palace, uncaring whether the others would follow her.

As much as Daleon would have wished to admire the sea of wooden shelves lined with books of old and new, they were more concerned for Jellie’s welfare. The air was already quite thick with the smell of decaying papyrus, and the way Jellie’s shoulders shook with every breath told them a storm was coming.

“Don’t worry, Jellie,” said Daleon. “I’m sure Lord Ainsworth will listen—”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re the Diamond,” Jellie spat, her voice laced with acid. “To you, every other lady, and every man in this god-ridden society, marriage is considered picturesque. To you and everyone else, this is a game - a game I wish I had no part in playing!”

Her voice rose with every word: “None of you understand how it is: to only be bred to be sold to the highest bidder to bear children, and the cycle repeats—”

Her fists shook as she clenched them so hard her knuckles turned white. For a moment, Daleon thought she was about to throw a fit or worse.

“My life is over,” she said weakly. She shook her head. ”It was over the moment I was born.”

Daleon reached out to touch Jellie’s shoulder. Jellie shoved her away. Gab caught her before she could make an impact with the floor. Her small figure framed, almost perfectly, in his arms.

“Jellie!”

“Fools. All of you!” She cried as she ran out.

It took Daleon a moment to realize the situation she was in. Heat rushed through her in embarrassment. “Pardon me,” she muttered.

“It’s alright, Daleon,” he whispered, followed by a frustrated sigh. She saw his brows crease. “I must go after her.”

They did not separate, but that did not matter. “I’m going with you,”

“I’d rather you not. You will only make things worse. Leave my family matters to me,” Daleon could see the clear blue waters of irises had clouded, and his lips curled down. “Please,”

How did he expect her to walk away when he made that face? How she wished she could comfort him. Never had she felt so powerless - or was that the truth Jellie had realized before her, that she desperately tried to fight it? What could she say to him that he did not already know?

“Gabriel—”

He released her and left, the sound of his footsteps fading as he went further and further away. Ergon came beside her. “Are you hurt?”

Daleon shook her head. She was still thinking about leaving them to go after them.

“This is understandably upsetting,” said Tomo.

Ergon turned to him. “Will they be alright?”

“I’m most certain they alerted the guards, and some servants are bound to see her. I trust all will be well. But we should help when we can,”

“Indeed,” said Dancel, running his fingers along the book-spines. “Though I must say this is not the first time the king has meddled in the marital arrangements of others.”

Tomo sighed. “Sometimes I think he has no shame. I must apologize for both my behavior and his majesty’s,”

“I think it was very kind of you to comfort Jellie,” said Daleon. “I did not think someone would do such a thing.”

“I’m sure he meant no harm by it,” said Tomo, before turning to address Dancel. “And I understand this is a horrible impression for any possible relationship, your grace. But I sincerely hope Miss Morningstar will not accept a proposal coming from His Majesty, but a proposal of my own.”

“The season is only halfway, your highness,” said Dancel, smiling kindly. “I would say there is still quite a bit of time to decide.”

Tomo bowed his head. “Thank you, your grace,”

Dancel gave Daleon a knowing look before moving to sit near the window. Ergon sat opposite him, looking down at the garden from when they came.

She and Tomo didn’t speak for a minute. They were both still processing the events that transpired.

“I never truly thanked you for this,” said Daleon, looking at the bracelet on her wrist. She hoped it was not too awful for a beginning of small talk. “I didn’t think Jellie would ever feel that way about these things. Marriages are supposed to be happy, aren’t they?”

Had she been thinking about it wrong this whole time?

“It is. Or at least that is what many hope it would be,” Tomo made a face. “Not all of us are given the freedom of choice. Fortune has its burdens.”

“Does that include you, your highness?”

Tomo invited her to sit beside him for a minute. “I will not deny that I returned to my mother’s homeland to ensure that I fulfill my duty as my country’s heir,” he explained. “Nor do I wish to lie to you and say there is no fragment of truth in Miss Stewart’s words.”

Daleon had heard the stories before, in Lady Nightbloom’s papers. The columns filled with scandal after scandal, with an extensive list of reasons for marriages that had gone awry - most of them resulting in financial losses, not to mention the shame that came with being the topic of a scandal. She realized then how lucky she was under Dancel’s care - only to worry about whether she loved a man enough to want to marry him.

But was it really that simple?

“Regardless, I would wish my future wife to be happy with me, despite the burdens a crown carries,” he continued. “So few marry for love nowadays. As outlandish as it may sound, I wish to be one of those few.”

He stared at her as he spoke, a hopeful gleam in his dark eyes.

“So pray, allow me the opportunity to know you for who you are, and hopefully fall in love with you, as any good man would.”

Daleon’s throat went dry at his words, fingers bunching up the fabric of her dress as her heart beat rapidly inside her ribcage. Maybe it was that simple.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic #my writing

[hhbridgertonau]

8 - A Lone Dove

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Arriving from the Morningstar estate, Gab tucked himself away in Fauta’s study. It was rather sparse, with the bookshelves barren of any literature, except for a few dedicated to poetry. He sat in Fauta’s chair, despite the rancid stench of alcohol coming from the whiskey decanter he kept on his desk, next to his stack of unchecked ledgers. That was sure to become a fire hazard if he didn’t do anything about it. If only making a match for Jellie could be just as easy as stacking them aside.

The question from earlier resonated in his mind. A simple question resolved by a simple answer, and yet, when Gab tried to formulate the words for it, they dissolved on his conscience. It set alight an uncomfortable fire in his gut, and what bothered him more than the sudden slump was the fact Daleon caused it. To be bested by someone whose requirement was “someone who could unravel her by a single look” was preposterous. He ran a hand across his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Fauta came into the room as both a welcome and an unwanted reprieve. “What’s this, sorting my ledgers for me? How kind of you,”

Gab sighed. “I see you’ve recovered enough to join the ball this evening?”

“I am the perfect image of health,” he said. “A few days without me, and the ton is already bored. Lady Nightbloom has not written anything interesting since you forced me out, with the exception of you and Miss Morningstar.”

Gab thought he could have kept him out permanently, but that would only rouse suspicion from society who viewed him as a "lovable" character.

Fauta strode over to the desk to pick up the decanter, and poured himself a glass. “I must admit, I did not think you would do it,”

Gab looked up at him. “Do what?”

“Court her, of course,” Fauta offered him the glass, to which Gab politely declined. “It is smart of you to go for the season’s prized. A choice of convenience, I assume?”

As if. “I have no intention of courting her, so you are free to make your own advances as you wish,”

Fauta hummed a surprised acknowledgment as he took a swig. “A tragedy,” he said. “I had hoped that you had finally found yourself a wife, so I could be rid of you.”

Gab looked at him quizzically. “I thought you had affections for Miss Morningstar?”

“I do. But if I bind myself to one lady, then I’ll be breaking the hearts of a hundred more. I do not wish to be like Dancel Morningstar and swear off marriage to their detriment,”

Fauta let out a chuckle and topped himself off. “Though if I am to take you at your word, perhaps I should thank you for saving her for me. Don’t hurt her too much when you let her down,”

Gab crinkled his nose. “I believe I should be saying that to you with your…tendencies,”

He dare not imagine what kind of person Fauta would be if he were married, least of all married to Daleon. Still, she and many others were more than enamored with him, and Gab would have to be blind not to see how well-versed the man was in the art of courting.

“Fauta, might I ask you something?”

“You’re full of surprises today. Let us see if I have an answer,” he said, sipping the rest of his whiskey.

“What does a man typically look for in a wife?”

At what seemed to be the question of the century, Fauta choked, precious whiskey spilling from his lips. He covered his hand as he coughed and tried to regain his senses from what he had just heard. “Are you actually considering marriage? Now?”

“It was just a curious inquiry,” Gab almost stammered, fighting the growing itch of embarrassment in his stomach. “But if you don’t have an answer, I might as well leave before I am made the butt of a joke—”

“Calm yourself, I’m not angry,” Fauta began to walk back and forth across the room. “But why are you asking me? Didn’t Uncle Isaac and Aunt Emily set some sort of prerequisite for you?”

Gab bit his lip. “It was hard to think of my future when mother was so sick.”

They had to leave London when Gab was a little boy because of his mother’s condition. They did not return, though his mother had always pestered his father to take him to social gatherings, hoping to actually find him a wife. He did twice, where he got to know Dancel, but never again. Isaac didn’t want to leave Emily alone, and neither did Gab. The prospect of marriage was never in the forefront of his future. Now with them gone, the future was indeed open, but did Gab want it? Natural and societal laws dictated it would be optimal; he had a dukedom to maintain. But something didn’t feel right.

“Well, what else would you look for in a life-long partner?” asked Fauta. “Is love not of the utmost importance in a relationship?”

Gab resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He truly sounded like Daleon - perhaps they were not a far off match after all. “If it were that simple, I wouldn’t be asking. Love is illogical and hardly solves anything. Marriage requires—”

“Oh come now, Gabriel, ‘requirement’ is such a harsh term, no? Lovers shouldn’t be assets or treated as things to be managed, as much as our society wishes for it to be. They are…”

Gab was an utter fool for asking love advice from Fauta of all people. For a moment he believed Fauta had no answer, but when he looked, he seemed to be lost in thought. He tapped the rim of his nearly empty glass before downing the rest of his liquid courage.

“They are missing fragments of us,” he finally said. “The missing parts that God made for us to be whole, the same way He made us to make them whole.”

Gab hummed in meek understanding. “But how would one know if they are in love?”

Fauta shrugged. “You just know. It’s a natural instinct,”

“Fauta, please, be more specific. I don’t do well with metaphors,”

He thought about it and moved to sit on the edge of his desk. “When you’re in love with someone,” he began. “You get this urge to just want to be with them, to hold their hand at any given moment, whatever happens - whether they’re happy or upset, or when things get too difficult.”

Gab thought of his mother and father as Fauta spoke. He thought of the countless times he saw his father carry his mother from the bedroom to the sun-room or wherever she needed to be, how they laughed when his father almost slipped down the stairs sometimes. Despite the hard ships, Isaac had promised to love Emily until his dying breath - and die loving her he did. He nodded again.

“But perhaps the biggest indicator is, when you’re truly, deeply, and utterly enamored by them, you would want to kiss them.”

Fauta suddenly turned to Gab, leaning over the desk to look, no, tease him. Even from a distance, Gab could smell his breath laced with smoke and whiskey. “After a while, a kiss doesn’t suffice—”

“That’s enough,” Gab stood and marched past him, taking discreet deep breaths to fight back the pounding inside his chest. He was an idiot for asking. God help him, he was overreacting over such a trivial thing. He never did well with the topic of intimacy, especially because most of his exposure to the subject was from Fauta’s escapades.

“Is that all there is to it?”

Fauta scoffed. “You should know the rest by heart: duties, responsibilities to family, the kind of stuff Ainsworth keeps shoving down our throats,” he scratched the back of his neck. “It wasn’t easy for our mothers and fathers, it certainly won’t be easy for us, especially if love is involved."

They both drew their gazes to a large painting hanging above the fireplace, depicting two young ladies in day-dresses sitting with solemn expressions. On the right was Gabriel’s mother, and beside her was Fauta’s mother, Isabella. The two ladies looked down on their sons, seemingly pitying them, though Emily’s gaze was much softer than Isabella’s.

“But maybe it will make things a little more worthwhile,”

“If you’re so experienced with this,” said Gab. “Why haven’t you found your ‘other half’ amongst all those people you’ve…been with?”

“Now that I do not know,” Fauta’s voice barely rose above a whisper. There was something there Gab did not see before: melancholy. “Perhaps God is hiding my other half somewhere else.”

Then, as if realizing he did not sound like himself, he grimaced. “But does it matter? I do not need God to find my other half. The entire world can take mine.”

Fauta set down his glass before getting up to leave. Gab still hadn’t the inkling of an answer, and more than ever, he wished someone would give him something more concrete.

Stepping into the ball that evening, Gab noticed how different things were. The walls of bright lime green in Lady Gracewood’s home might have been the main factor, but he was keenly attuned to the faces of married men and women. The newlyweds were easier to spot, practically joined at the hip with cheery tones as they spoke of their honeymoon and the places they’ve been to. The more experienced couples felt a little calmer, and more independent, yet still tethered to the other. Wives occasionally left their husbands and walked around on their own; but in the end, they would always return to their husbands’ waiting arms.

If Emily wasn’t so sick, perhaps Gab would have gotten to see them act like this. They would be chaperoning him around, introducing him to some lady, and Gab would have waited for the one who passed his mother’s approval. But she didn’t want his father, or him for that matter, pushing her around in a wheelchair. In the end, neither his father nor mother got what they wanted.

He shook his head. This was neither the time nor place to think of what had passed; there were more important things that needed attention. Preserving his unavailable status was one of them.

It surprised him how quickly he found her presence at a ball. Maybe it was because she was hard to miss, even when her dress was not that much different to any other. Or perhaps it was because he knew she was not interested in him, and therefore considered her a strategic refuge from the bachelorettes. With that logic, locating her was important.

“A dance, miss Morningstar?” He offered his hand almost naturally - and before Fauta could even approach.

“Well, someone else will have to take me to the punch bowl,” Jellie scowled beside him. She looked at Ergon, who had to be prompted with a nudge from Dancel. The two broke off as Gab led Daleon away. She was in a better mood than when he last left her, though it seemed his sudden approach had thrown her off. If there was anything Gab was good at, it was keeping his head in whatever game he played. He was never the type to idly daydream and stare as he danced, but Daleon seemed terribly distracted that evening.

“Is there something on your mind?”

She looked up at him, blinking away the daze she put herself in. “No. Yes. I… I simply wanted to apologize for this afternoon. It was…unbecoming of me,”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “I must say it pleases me that you’ve learned to be somewhat sensible,”

She flushed at his comment. “This will be the first and last time I express any sincerity for you,” she said, turning her head away with a huff.

“Let us focus our attention on finding you and my cousin a match first,” he said in response. “If I am to settle, miss Morningstar, it will be on my own terms.” If he could decipher what those terms were.

“When you do decide your terms and find a suitable lady, you must introduce me, and invite me to your wedding,”

Gab’s eyes widened. “You would wish to come to my wedding?”

“Well, after my own, I don’t think I would be invited to any other, save for perhaps my husband’s friends,” he saw her cheeks turn a pink deeper than her dress. “Besides, I think it would be most amusing to see the kind of lady that catches your interest.”

Gab couldn’t resist a scoff. “I may not have my requirements for a wife, but I do know that my wedding shall be a rather private affair, with family and friends,”

“Are we not friends?”

Gab almost didn’t answer. “We are pretending—”

“To be courting. But we never said we could not be friends. Or are you waiting to be friends with my future husband?”

What a strange line of thought. “Do you believe we are friends?” He asked.

“We are looking for each other’s interests. Does that not, by some degree of definition, make us friends?”

He sighed, astounded by her persistence. “Very well. But only on the grounds that I consider Dancel a friend. I shall permit you to be one as well,”

Daleon’s lips curled into the widest smile Gab had seen, and he subconsciously found it contagious. It had been sometime before he could consider anyone new a friend - and a lady no less. He fought back the urge.

“Well, if we are to be friends, we should call each other by our names,”

“By our names?” There were a few dancers who threw bewildered glances in their direction. Gab hadn’t realized he raised his voice.

“Are you against it?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t believe so,”

“Then I shall call you Gabriel,”

“Very well… Daleon.” Bubbles rose from his stomach and into his diaphragm, becoming tighter in his chest. Daleon’s smile mellowed, and neither of them looked at the other anymore.

Gab’s discomfort was lived short when the party erupted into excited whispers. A message resonated in the air: the king had arrived, and he was not alone.

“I heard it is the king’s nephew,”

His name came quickly to Gab: Prince Tomo of Northern Seraphina. He had seen the man in a few portraits and heard a few heroic tales from the older members of the ton. It was going to be a privilege to meet him in person.

Just yonder the entrance, he made out the faint silhouette of the king walking by and greeting guests with a nod of his head. Beside him was a young strapping gentleman in military uniform, just a little taller than Gab. All eyes were clearly on him, drawn to the way he solemnly lowered his head to greet the lesser classes. His narrow eyes gave off the impression of a general, more so than a prince. His presence was akin to that of a cold blade cutting the room in two. Dancel came to collect Daleon while Gab returned to where Fauta and Jellie waited. Seemingly by instinct, they all lined up in a pleasant row, like soldiers waiting to be picked for the front lines.

“To think there would actually be a prince,”

“It must be your lucky day, Dally,” said Jellie, who snaked her arm around Daleon’s and gave a friendly squeeze. Since when were they so close? “But if he has so many brides to choose from, wouldn’t he get bored and confused?”

“Precisely why I say our laws should allow men to have multiple wives,” said Fauta. Gab clicked his tongue and nudged him harshly. “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say it had to be consensual.”

Gab knew better than to listen to that brute. He stood tall and brushed him off when the prince came to Jellie. She curtsied properly, thank God, but he saw how his eyes flitted from her to Daleon. Jellie had practically been overlooked.

“There she is,” cried the king. “My Diamond. Tomo, allow me to present Miss Daleon Morningstar,”

On the other hand, Daleon curtsied with so much elegance and poise, like a flower falling gracefully on a waking spring. It was no surprise why she was called the Diamond at all. Only a lady with such refinement could have everyone in awe at a mere bow.

Perhaps as a silent admittance of defeat from the marriage-minded mothers and debutantes, the room returned to the way it was. The quartet picked up their bows and played another quadrille to liven the evening.

“Miss Morningstar, shall I accompany you to the dessert table?” Gab heard Tomo say. His voice rumbled like gentle thunder.

“How did you know I enjoy sweets?”

Tomo’s lips tweaked upwards. “I believe that is one of many things we share in common,”

Gab watched them walk away, but not before he met eyes with Daleon once more. She hesitated. But as if she finally realized the opportunity placed before her, she turned to Tomo and spoke to him.

“Gab,” Fauta called for him. “It’s the Earl of Glyvedon. He wishes to speak to you.”

It seemed some things were changing for the better. Yet, he did not want to move from his spot, and watched on as Daleon and Tomo went to the other side of the room. He snapped himself awake, and turned to attend to the earl, hearing the faintest chime of laughter as he left. Even from a distance, he could tell it was hers.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfiction

[hhbridgertonau]

7 - The Picture of Devotion

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The opera house didn’t look quite right in Daleon’s eyes. Against the stagnant fireworks of the bright candle lights, the faces of the theater-goers were distorted and blurry, far from appearing like human faces and more like flesh-colored shadows dressed in decadence. Daleon’s gaze flew to the stage, watching the actors and their mouths open wide. She heard nothing. No sweet song, no high or low pitched vibrato. The world seemed as still as a painting, as quiet as midnight.

Suddenly, the shadows around her stood and clapped. Their applause thundered strangely against each other like weak, muffled drums. As quickly as they began, they ceased. The lights of the boxes in the theater flickered in succession until her box remained the only one lit. For a moment, she thought she was alone.

Something fuzzy lifted her hand, fleeting and barely there. She looked up and a shadow towered over her. Its silhouette looked familiar, and she relaxed in its presence. Despite the empty blackness in its face, she could feel it staring. It lowered its head to plant a soft kiss on the back of her bare hand. When did her gloves come off? She watched in amazement at the shadow, senses keenly attuned to the thin lips pressing against her skin. Even the slightest movement sent goosebumps ripple up her arm, weakening her knees. Its breath tickled her.

The shadow lifted its face, and Daleon froze. Her face was mere inches away from the face of Gabriel Driscol.

Daleon tried not to think of the dream as she entered the drawing room. Though every time she pictured his eyes, she shuddered. They were expecting callers soon, and frankly, she was grateful that she hadn’t run out since she and Gab had become the article of rumors for a while. A few bouquets of flowers and gift boxes of varying sizes with colorful ribbons lay atop a table from the callers, who were too busy to see her that morning. She reached out for the cards on each of them, noting those who sent something in relatively larger boxes.

Along the sofas where their guests were to sit, Daleon’s eye caught a plate of sugar cookies. She quickly snatched one.

“Ah-ah,” said Zaheer, who took the pastry from her fingers. “You haven’t had your breakfast yet.”

“Whether I have one now or after breakfast shouldn’t matter, should it?” Daleon pouted, squishing her cheeks against the butler’s shoulder as he fussed over lining the doilies over small plates. “You only ever make your sugar cookies when we have guests.”

“If you ever wanted sugar cookies, all you had to do was ask,” he chuckled, reluctantly placing the cookie in Daleon’s mouth. It wouldn’t have been sanitary to feed it to guests.

“Besides, I made you muffins this morning,”

The little gasp of delight that came from Daleon was most unfitting for a lady. But when it came to Zaheer Hawthorne’s craftsmanship for baked goods, some childish expressions had to be excused. As she sat to enjoy her morning treats with a glass of milk and a drizzle of honey, Dancel, Ergon, and Peggy joined her.

“Peggy, where were you? You didn’t join us at the opera last night,”

���A-apologies, Daleon.” He stuttered. His cheeks turned red. “But you know I don’t like the opera. And I heard Angela Stewart was there, so I wanted to avoid her as much as possible…”

“Angela Stewart, why?” It seemed their house was beginning to pay more attention to her than Daleon. “Are you interested in her too?”

“W-what? No. Why would I be?”

“Well, Ergon was with her last night. He offered his arm even when no one had introduced her,”

“That is…rather shocking,”

“Isn’t it? I didn’t think Ergon would be brave enough. Why did you do what you did?”

“She…didn’t look like she wanted to go with Lord Reagan,” said Ergon. “I acted on impulse.”

Daleon rushed over to take her brother’s hand. “Ergon, you shouldn’t deny yourself the opportunity to find a wife. I’d be excited to have a sister. And two weddings are more fun than one!”

“Goodness, if I had known I would be giving my twins away so soon, I would have made more effort for us to spend time together.” Dancel laughed.

Ergon’s brows furrowed, embarrassed by both his sister and guardian. “I have no intention of getting married. It was just an act of impulse. It won’t happen again.”

Dancel patted the boy’s head in reassurance. “You do not have to impede your own happiness to keep us happy. You’re allowed to be selfish,”

Ergon nodded.

“Now Daleon, am I to hand a gentleman your dowry anytime soon?”

Daleon folded her hands on her lap, fingers tracing patterns against the satin of her morning dress.

“I’m not sure,” she said. Her current callers were lovely, but after Fauta, none of them made her feel the way she wanted to feel. “I honestly don’t know what to look for.”

“What about Gabriel Driscol?” Zaheer asked. “Lady Nightbloom seems to enjoy speculating about you two.”

Even her ruse with Gabriel was more consistent and convincing - if the dream was anything to go by.

“His grace and I…get along I suppose,.

She couldn’t say he was unbearable. But the man always had some criticism for anyone and everyone, even for the members of his own household, as if he himself was free from human flaws. No one was perfect, but to be blatantly shamed for their imperfections and desires was a ghastly thing to hear from a man with such an angelic face.

She loathed to say the position of Duke got to his head. But just as Daleon did not believe all marriages were merely founded on assets, and that happily-ever-afters existed, she knew there was more to Gab than he presented himself to be. What was more, she did not want to deny that she was enjoying his company, even if it would end in a fruitless endeavor.

She shook her head. “I’ll know when…I’ll know. Someday. ”

“Hopefully, that day will be today,” said Zaheer with some cheer in his tone. “Your callers have arrived.”

Gab’s occasional display of interest truly stoked the competitive fire between Daleon’s callers. Although perhaps they had overdone their game. The gentlemen tried to outdo each other, showing off with their bouts of poetry and music. Daleon might as well have run a saloon. Their efforts paled compared to Dancel’s playing of the violin and the harp. Still, she applauded their efforts and smiled courteously.

She didn’t mind the noise and festivities too much. She was more nervous about what was to come, or whether it would.

Zaheer suddenly whispered to her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the Duke of Edengrove has arrived with a gift,”

Daleon stood a little too eagerly. She really thought he wouldn’t do it. But there he was by the door of their drawing room, followed by what Daleon could have only described as the biggest bouquet of pale pink roses, forget-me-nots, and daisies she’d ever seen. Where was Zaheer going to find a vase big enough? It covered most of the footman’s body, presenting the amusing image of a flower bouquet with two long legs.

She overheard some of the callers who had gathered waiting for her. Some came up with rapid excuses to leave, and some decided to drop their flowers on the table, marching out of the drawing room as politely as they could. She tried not to smile at how well their ruse seemed to be working.

“Thank you, your grace,” she said. “I am honored you came to see me.”

Gab nodded. His expression was unreadable.

“I truly wish I could stay. However, I would not wish to disturb your rather eventful morning,” he glanced at the remaining callers waiting. “Good day, miss Morningstar.”

“If you are not too busy, Gabriel, you may sit with me,” said Dancel.

Gab’s face contorted to something of surprise. “Lord Morningstar. It is rare that you would wish to speak with me,”

“I believe we have mutual matters to discuss,” Dancel glanced between him and Daleon. “Would be you kind enough to join me in the garden?” He gave one last look at Ergon before going outside. Peggy opted to remain tucked in the corner of the drawing room reading a book, in the hopes he would not have to talk to anyone.

By sometime after noon, Daleon requested to retire for the day. It was hard work entertaining so many lively guests. She took note of a few she would be willing to dance with that evening, and for now that would have to suffice. Peckish and in need of something to eat, she thought to seek Dancel in the garden.

Stepping out with Ergon, Daleon took a deep breath of the spring air. The morning sun illuminated a perfectly aquamarine sky dotted with a few pearly wisps of cloud. The garden was filled with blooming pansies, roses, and violets, perfect for an expected blossoming romance. Perhaps the Season was designed so that one could also appreciate its beauty, and so that humans could attempt at mimicking their grace to little avail.

When they finally found the gentlemen having tea and crumpets underneath the white petals of a Serviceberry tree, Daleon came across something astounding: Gab was smiling. Not the superficial, business-eager, pleasantry kind; this one looked real, soft, and elegant with genuine amusement. She didn’t think the man was even capable of such a feat. What a fool she would be, not to call the man the perfect subject of a serene composition. If Dancel hadn’t been sitting with him, she would have begged him to paint it.

“Daleon! Ergon!” Dancel called to them. “Come sit by me, dears.”

Daleon took Dancel’s hand and steadied herself as she sat beside him on the wooden bench. Ergon sat on the other side.

“I was just speaking to the Duke about our country outings in the summer,” said Dancel. “If our schedules permit it, perhaps you could join us,”

She and Gab stiffened at the prospect.

“I am grateful for the offer, your grace. But I’m afraid I must decline,” said Gab. “The dukedom tends to be quite busy during the summer with the festivals and the tending of livestock and crops. I would not wish to leave all the work to my staff.”

Dancel chuckled. “Still a business-oriented fellow I see. But I believe it is also a matter of missing your home, no?”

Gab sighed. “That is true, your grace.”

Daleon looked up at him, at the soft tone in his voice. How had she not realized it, that the Duke had come to London alone, after so many years of not returning to it? The ton must have been a foreign place to him. She wondered why his family hadn’t opted to stay considering their status.

“I just remembered I had to fetch Peggy’s medicine,” Dancel stood, dusting a few crumbs off his vest. “Daleon, why don’t you continue where I left off and tell the Duke about our little picnic spot by the riverside? I won’t be long. Ergon, let us give them a moment of privacy.”

Daleon was about to protest, but they had already gone away to the porch. Peggy had practically scurried out, catching up with them. So far, Dancel didn’t seem the slightest bit suspicious about their arrangement. She would even go so far as to say he was supporting it. She hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed when he learned the truth - if he already hadn’t.

Gab cleared his throat. “So, has the circus decided to pack up and travel elsewhere?” He returned to that condescending tone of his.

“If you’re referring to my callers, that’s very rude.”

“Well, that’s what I saw walking into the drawing room this morning,” he took a sip of his tea. “And I would wager none of those monkeys caught your interest.”

Daleon huffed. “The one gentleman I was interested in has not reappeared in society the last few days. No thanks to you,”

Gab set his teacup and saucer on the table with a small clack. “You’re certainly stubborn about him. That ‘gentleman' was on the brink of ruining your reputation had I not intervened.”

“He was kind to me. Or at least truthful enough to express that he had some degree of affection—”

He scoffed. “Fauta doesn’t concern himself with affections. He was merely trying to…please you to please him.”

“Since when did a businessman know more than a lady about matters of the heart?”

They were going in circles with this little spat of theirs. And just when she thought they could get along.

“I know enough to know what makes a good man and what doesn’t,” said Gab. “Fauta may be charming, but that’s as far as his ‘goodness’ goes,”

Daleon was beginning to see a pattern. “His character appears to be very illusive, and for some reason I am the only one being kept in the dark about it.”

Gab hesitated. “That… is for your safety,”

Frustrated, Daleon slumped against the bench. “Don’t I at least deserve the truth?” She looked at him.

“It is something no lady should hear,”

“But—”

“If it is a good man you want, you needn’t look far,” Gab swallowed after his words.

“Oh?”

“For one, Baron Bastion thinks highly of you,”

Daleon blinked. “Roush?”

Oh dear. The thought made her giddy. Her, married to Roush? She had to laugh, much to the Duke’s confusion. She knew she was making a fool of herself by laughing in front of him, but the notion was too comical.

“My apologies, your grace,” she tried to explain in between fits of laughter.

“I-I was simply suggesting,” Gab stuttered. He never stuttered. “Even though he can be a simpleton at times, and he’s not the brightest—”

In an attempt to calm herself and reassure the Duke, she placed her hand on his arm.

“The Baron is indeed a very good man, your grace. And I am most fortunate to make his acquaintance,” she squeezed his arm. “But I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He’s more like family to me than a potential suitor.”

She finally realized where her hand was, and she recoiled.

“And frankly, I doubt Dancel would approve,” she said, massaging her hand with the other, as if to rub off the feeling of Gab’s clothes. “He’s very protective of him, even though he won’t quite admit it.”

“Y-Yes, I can see that. But I don’t see why that should stop you,”

“I am not ashamed to say I love him like I would an uncle, your grace, a father even. Therefore, I cannot see myself marrying him.”

Now it was Gab’s turn to be defeated, slumping against the seat with her and huffing. Daleon had to understand, he was only trying to help. But she felt honored that Gab was willing to introduce someone whom they both knew was a kind and noble man indeed.

“So what do you look for in a husband?”

She perked at the sudden inquiry on a topic they knowingly disagreed on. Just like that morning, Daleon looked down. It felt so clear to her that she was looking for a prince. But what exactly did looking for a prince mean? What even was a prince?

“Someone…kind, I suppose,” she said. “Someone who is honest and dependable, and can trust me as much as I trust them,”

“Are those not features you find in the baron?”

Gab seemed oddly persistent in matching her and Roush. “Yes, but… ugh, it is difficult to explain in words,”

She pressed her lips together, wracking whatever she had acquired from reading poems and stories in her head to help explain this concept to a man as logical as Gab.

“Oh it’s no use. Such things are not bound by phonetics and semantics,”

She saw Ergon and Zaheer watching them from the porch. The sight of them suddenly gave her an idea. She picked up her skirts and jogged up to them as best she could.

“I have a favor to ask,”

Ergon tried not to look surprised. “What is it?”

“Could I show Lord Driscol something?”

She almost dragged the duke by his hand from the garden into the foyer. It was good fortune that all the other guests left, for fear of ruinous speculation. Climbing a few steps, she stopped in the middle of the stairs and looked up.

“What do you think of this painting, your grace?”

It was a portrait of her and Ergon painted by Dancel over the summer before the season began. He said it was for the occasion that both of them would leave the nest one day, and he would come to miss them.

“If my face is to your disliking, then focus on my brother,” she added.

“I’m not so cruel as to completely disregard the blatant subject of a painting,” Gab clicked his tongue and stared up at it.

Dancel chose the backdrop well, opting for a darkened fixture so the twins’ pale complexion and light hair could shine, and certain details could be highlighted with the shadows. His delicate composition of the subjects was something to be in awe of, even Daleon sometimes couldn’t believe she was one of them. Dressed in lime green chiffon, she sat front and center with her gaze forward, a virtuous smile gracing her lips. Behind her, with a stern expression, stood Ergon with a hand on her shoulder. It was the picture of familial devotion.

“The Duke is certainly talented,” said Gab. “The brush strokes are quite immaculate, and the lighting…There’s clearly a lot of care placed into it. But what did you hope to achieve by showing me this?”

“I was hoping this would help you put things in my perspective,”

They stood side by side and stared at the painting together.

“I want someone to look at me this way,” she said. “With care, and adoration.”

She thought about Dancel then, how much he had given to her and Ergon since their ragged days in the countryside. He gave them a warm and bright home. More importantly, he gave them a family.

“Someone who could unravel my thoughts just by looking at me. Perhaps someone who thinks I’m more beautiful than I find myself. And I want to look at someone the exact same way.”

She looked at Gab as she spoke, wanting to see if her efforts had reached him. Gab went silent, possibly processing her words with as much genuine understanding he could muster when it came to her. His brows were scrunched, deep in thought, and Daleon could see how much he struggled to grasp the concept. Or perhaps he did, but found it contradicted with his own views?

He cleared his throat. “I should have expected such from a romantic like yourself,”

Daleon clicked her tongue. “And I am not surprised that you are deeply troubled with my requirements,”

“Everyone is entitled to their requirements, but not everyone must be on the same page regarding them. What you’re seeking is a matter of fantastical compatibility—”

She turned to him. “Then what are yours, your grace?”

He turned to her. “My requirements?”

“For a man who speaks so much of duty and honor, I would not be surprised if you had a list of pragmatic requirements for your future duchess. It just so happens no lady has met those requirements, so I might as well ask you: what do you seek?”

Gab opened his mouth, but then closed it. His eyes darted from one wall to the other, piecing in his mind what he was to say. Had Daleon’s words truly stumped him, or was he simply embarrassed to tell her the truth? What did it matter to Daleon?

“Never mind. I’ve said too much. Good day, your grace.”

She ran back to the drawing room and helped herself to more biscuits and tea. A moment later, she heard Gabriel bid Zaheer goodbye, and told him to thank Dancel for his hospitality. She didn’t look up to watch him leave. Although the sugary treats should have cheered her up, she felt awful, and she couldn’t quite place why.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic

[hhbridgertonau]

6 - Strategic Endeavors

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In this author’s lifetime, only few marriages could be called prime specimens and exemplars of fidelity. The match between Ainsworth Stewart and Marianne Beckham is a fine example; and who could forget when our devoted king wed the viscountess Anna Windsor? History would do well to preserve such records, but this author knows her readers tend to be bored of such pious articles. And where is the fun in retelling prosperous beginnings of love and romanticism, and happy endings of loyalty? My dearest reader, it is this author’s bane to write such ghastly tactless articles - but perhaps today shall be one of many exceptions.

Daleon Morningstar was seen dancing with Gabriel Driscol, twice! It should be to no one’s surprise that one priceless gem should attract another. But this author begs the question she is certain many will ask: does this match of the century have a future with the vows of matrimony and wedding bells?

This entire arrangement could be faulted on the notion that Daleon took Gab’s hand when he asked for it. He almost wanted to curse himself for not thinking of a better alternative, but there was no use crying over spilled milk. At least Daleon managed to prove that she was not so tactless as she first appeared. It was certainly better than his initial cowardly plan of constantly evading the mothers and the droll ladies. Now that they were allegedly committed to this arrangement, Gab had every intention of using it to the most of his advantage. Such an advantage meant one particular activity:

“Promenade?” Jellie’s face paled upon Gab, bringing up the subject the following morning. “Not a simple walk for fresh air? Promenade?”

“Yes.” Gab said nonchalant, sipping leisurely at his morning coffee. If they were both to play the marriage-minded couple the ton so eagerly wished for, they needed to make a consistent statement.

“The more you are seen, the higher the likelihood you shall attract a husband.”

Jellie groaned. “Roush, break my leg. I refuse.”

“I am not doing that,”

“Then someone cast me off the balcony before I do it myself.”

Mika quickly hushed her and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it resigned the young lady to cooperate. How Mika tolerated and managed that thing was a miracle. Ainsworth wasted his time putting Gab in the role of presenter, but the disciplinarian he could do. Fauta wasn’t present at breakfast that morning. He heard from the servants that he intended to stay in bed to hide a rather nasty bruise on his lower cheek. That would have to do to keep him from doing anything scandalous for the time being.

Before they departed, Roush had something to say. “About Miss Morningstar…”

“What about her?”

Roush took a moment, as if he had a difficult time formulating the question into something that would not offend Gab or her ladyship. “Well, what do you think of her?”

“What do I think of her? She’s—”

Daleon Morningstar couldn’t be anything but a child in the body of a 21-year-old. Innocent. Naive. Easily manipulated. Though Gab couldn’t have been any different, now that he was where he was. But heaven knows if what he felt would make the baron uncomfortable. Why would the baron ask such a question?

“Tolerable and well-mannered.” He decided to say. “Are you interested in the Marquess?”

At Gab’s redirection of his inquiry, Roush’s face flushed. “No! Not at all. I was simply curious as to your intentions, which I am sure they are noble, but…” he stopped, for what reason Gab wasn’t certain.

“I simply think very highly of her,”

He smiled as he spoke, with a nostalgic expression Gab hadn’t seen since he returned from the front lines years ago. It was good to see a good man happy, for once. Out of everyone in Paradiso, Gab thought Roush made the best married man. Whoever he chose as his future wife would be exceptionally fortunate.

A pity Gab could not have any of those dreams for himself. Calling them dreams to begin with, was mere folly.

Promenading was once an enjoyable affair for Gab, something to be done with family on good graces. But little by little, as he was forced to grow up faster than his cousins, he began to detest them. They ate too much of his time and his responsibilities, and when the days dragged on, he would be too tired the following morning to consider such a pleasantry. He stopped initiating promenades when his father passed away, but he occasionally relented when his mother asked him. That was a long time ago.

He had forgotten how lively promenades were, like balls held in the middle of the day. Without the fancy lighting or the exquisite fabrics and accessories, the ton tried to compensate with bright colors and obnoxious parasols. If that wasn’t enough, he had also forgotten that children were allowed to accompany adults on their promenades. They were scattered across Aiden Park, playing leap frog and tag, or running along with their dolls and wooden soldiers to play some sort of grand adventure. There were even booths for ring toss and nine pins. Gab remembered being a little too competitive with his cousins when they played in his time. Now those same children were all grown up, but still rather childish in Gab’s eyes.

“Jellie, if you groan one more time, I swear you will not live to hear the end of my nagging,” he whispered harshly to the girl beside him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” said Mika, petting her hand on his arm tenderly. “You look beautiful,”

“Even more beautiful than Daleon Morningstar?” She pouted.

Mika smiled. “Of course,”

If only Jellie’s “beauty” could outshine Daleon’s demure disposition.

He saw Roush by an ivory tent up ahead, along with Daleon and Ergon. It dawned on him then how often he saw him with the Morningstar family - an impressive feat if Gab could say so. Daleon listened to the baron’s words with a curious gleam in her eyes, and her brother feigned the same interest. Daleon clapped in delight at something he said, and while Ergon didn’t laugh along with her, he was clearly enjoying himself.

There was something about Ergon that reminded Gab of his younger self - a sharp and cold aura hardened by responsibility. It was easy to see where most of the rationality and discipline in the family fell to. Perhaps if he were truly courting Daleon, he and Ergon would have made some good acquaintances.

It was Ergon who noticed Gab and whispered to the two about his arrival. Daleon’s lips straightened at the sight of him, as if his presence had so rudely intruded on their otherwise idyllic existence. He supposed he needed to say hello, after Lady Nightbloom’s accounts. There were the stares to consider too.

“I believe I have not had the pleasure, Lord Morningstar,” said Gab.

“Are you here for my sister?”

Gab discreetly stretched his shoulders at the man’s upfront inquiry. It seemed the twins shared their tendency to be blunt. No matter.

“I was hoping to accompany Miss Morningstar on a walk,” he said. Why was he even trying? “It is a lovely day out, wouldn’t you agree?”

They walked by the lakeside, with the lively whispers of promenaders on one side. On the other, ducks quacked and glided over peaceful, still waters. Gab sneaked a few glances behind them, cautious if Daleon’s maid and Ergon were listening in. They paced themselves at a distance, which Gab was surprised at. He had heard the older Morningstar was more protective of his sister than their own present guardian.

“Have they spoken to you about our arrangement?”

“Not at all,” she replied. “It is either we have fooled them, or they have chosen not to speak about it yet.” She smiled. Whether it was amusement or something else, Gab could not tell. “Besides, it is not me you should be worried about, but Miss Angela, correct?”

There may be hope for her yet, thought Gab.

“Has she had any returning callers?”

“She’s had some. But she always finds some way of chasing them out. A certain level of intelligence begets pride, I suppose.”

“Well, have you not considered how the suitors you’ve presented are…uninteresting? You cannot force love, after all.”

“I believe you’re the only debutante who has love as a requirement,”

The pair paused in their steps, intense, scrutinizing gazes flying to meet the other’s. Gab tried to read her, outdo her in her assumption, but Daleon’s romantic beliefs saw no foundation in his mind. It was like trying to read in a different language.

“Is it a wrong ambition to have?” said Daleon. “Don’t you have such dreams as the master of a rather remote dukedom?”

Gab did not want to even dignify her with a response. A woman like her wouldn’t understand.

He redirected their conversation. “We must focus on our strategy. I believe it is best we terminate our arrangement after Jellie weds.” Hopefully, it would happen before the end of the season, so Daleon could still have her chance.

“Lord Ainsworth needs assurance,” he explained further. “There may still be a window of escape for her if she was just ‘engaged’.” He could picture the young girl saying unimaginable things and doing worse to her future fiance. If ever an unsuspecting suitor chose her as his wife, he must have nerves stronger than steel.

“Then perhaps my influence shall be of use to you. In exchange,” Daleon lightly grabbed Gab’s elbow. “I expect you to call on me. At least once.”

Her words almost made him stop in the middle of the path.

“With flowers,” Daleon continued. “Big and expensive ones. You must act with the ambition to outdo my other callers, considering I might redirect some of them to Miss Angela. Create some competition, as you’ve put it. I believe it is only fair.”

Gab bit the inside of his cheek before replying. “…Very well, Miss Morningstar,”

She chuckled. Gab clicked his tongue. “How like you to find my discomfort amusing,”

She flushed at Gab’s remark and quickly tried to defend herself. “I was just thinking that Miss Angela and my brother appear to have similar interests, or a lack thereof,”

Gab had stopped listening to her. He was more worried about himself and what he was to do when the morrow came.

In accordance with their plan, they waited for each other at the entrance of the Haymarket Opera House with their respective families. Daleon decided to wear a baby pink dress that evening, with a sheer cream shawl to cover her shoulders.

“You look lovely this evening, Miss Morningstar,” said Gab, forcing himself to sound like he was actually excited to see her. His gesture began to draw attention, which was exactly what they needed to happen. Most of the men offered polite bows as they passed. The couple “conversed” with Jellie and Ergon hovering alongside them.

“Miss Morningstar, I am delighted to see you here,” a Count by the name of Reagan approached them. He was a tall and lean fellow with a mop of ginger hair and whiskers. “Mi-Might I fetch you something to drink?”

Daleon smiled. She certainly had a flair for putting on very pretty ones. “Thank you, my lord, but I am quite well. However, I’m sure miss Stewart here would like some refreshment,”

With a little tug, Gab pulled the reluctant debutante forward. He wished Mika came along with them, but he had university matters to attend to. Roush would have to suffice. The scowl on Jellie’s face was most prominent, but Gab hoped her manners would remain intact.

She was practically tugging on Gab now, hoping she would be released from his hold. The Duke would rather die than have a little girl like her embarrass him.

“Well, if the lady will allow me—”

“I’ll accompany her,”

All eyes flew to Ergon as he stepped forward and held out his hand to Jellie. There was a strange tension floating between them, like the quiet before some kind of storm. Gab felt Jellie’s hand clench around his bicep, and then loosen as she took Ergon’s hand. He thought he heard her sigh as she allowed the marquis to lead her towards the bar.

Reagan quickly excused himself, possibly embarrassed, that two ladies shot his advances down.

“What in good heavens was that?” said Gab.

“I don’t know. This might be the first time I’ve seen my brother with a lady who wasn’t me…”

From the distance where they stood, Gab could see their lips move rapidly as they conversed. Ergon’s expression did not change, and Jellie’s, surprisingly, had softened ever so slightly, though the etch of arrogance still remained. Gab had to admit: watching Jellie's brows tie themselves in a knot to whatever Ergon said was amusing, and he allowed himself a discreet smirk. And whatever they were talking about, it caught the interest of the other men and women around them. Lady Nightbloom was going to thrive in postage sales.

He glanced back at the marquess, who looked proud of the little strings she had pulled - his, Ergon’s and Jellie’s. What a fearsome thing.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the six of them climbed up the stairs into one of the boxes of the upper east wing of the opera house, overlooking the entire stage from the right. Gab and Daleon sat just by the balcony, with Ergon and Jellie beside them. In the rear, overlooking their seats, Dancel and Roush sat like proper chaperons.

The opera was secretly one of Gab’s favorite pastimes, mostly because they were rare. He found it serendipitous to see Beethoven's Fidelio. In the sea of people below them, there was almost a perfect ratio of man to woman. They beside one another in a binary pattern, with perhaps the occasional oddity of two men or two women in a row.

Daleon leaned her body forward until her head was hanging over the balcony. Her arm served as a cushion for her chin as she stared at the actors, performing their woes with romantic shrills and such. The corners of her eyes drooped not with fatigue, but with a sadness that mirrored the story before her. Surely, she knew it was only that: a story?

“Do you know how this play ends, Miss Morningstar?”

She turned to look at him. “Hm?”

“Never mind,” What was he doing? She was going to see the end anyway.

“I hope it’s a happy one,” she said, almost to herself. “For Leonore and Florestan.”

‘It will be,’ he wanted to say. But he did not want to ruin that fantasy of hers, no matter how foolish he deemed it to be. She would see the longer their arrangement lasted.

Happy endings only happen in stories.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic #my writing

[hhbridgertonau]

5 - Opals and Diamonds

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If the king had truly wished to name a season incomparable, this author believes he would have had better fortune naming a bachelor instead.

It is no surprise that the gentlemen have their fair share of rugged good looks. Princes among lower, attainable classes, as one might call it. But this author wagers that no one can rival the ton’s newest, and most surprising addition: the Duke of Edengrove. If this author had any penchant for names, and this author does, they would boldly label this new arrival, an Opal.

While he is certainly no diamond, if Dancel Morningstar insists on his bachelor status to the pity of all anticipating ladies, then perhaps sir Gabriel Driscol can prove, at long last, a remedy to the marriage-minded mamas of our society.

As he crossed the floor with Jellie on his arm that evening, Gab could not shake the feeling that the eyes on him had drastically multiplied, as if he were some sort of appalling creation of nature to marvel at. His collar tightened around him, his fingers began to itch, and the weight of his mother’s brooch resting on his lapel felt heavier than usual. It was certainly of no help that he read the column this morning. To which he thought Lady Nightbloom was wise to conceal her identity, for if Gab knew who she was, he would have charged her for disturbing the peace. His peace.

The mothers came to him in slow hordes. Jellie snickered on his arm as one by one, they shoved their dancing cards in his face, hoping he would fill one of them, or better yet, all of them. Their voices piled atop each other with names Gab had no interest in remembering. The noises festered so much in his eardrums, he feared they would burst. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from shouting something undignified.

In the corner of his view, he caught a glimpse of pink. Daleon was impossible to miss as the only lady surrounded by a small pool of gentlemen. He’d call them silly geese, but found it unwise given his current predicament. She smiled softly at her suitors, a juxtapose to the scowl on Gab’s face. If only the chit could choose one already, then Jellie would be next in line. Then, and only then, would he be free.

As charming as the men were, Daleon felt unsatisfied with their ability to hold a conversation. Most of their words seemed drawn from some etiquette guide Daleon had memorized when she was younger. She knew the thought was rather harsh, but she had expected more from potential suitors. Though the jar of compliments was far from empty, none of them truly said anything to send her heart fluttering.

These qualms were not the case with Fauta, who Daleon was much beginning to admire out of the ballroom. He had such a warm and trustworthy energy about him, and the man was no stranger to being transparent with his feelings - a heart-on-his-sleeve, kind of fellow. Daleon liked that about him. However, despite all their interactions at social gatherings, there was one rather crucial step in courtship Fauta seemed to miss.

“My lord,” she said as they danced. “I hope you do not see me as too forward with my inquiry, but why haven’t I received any calls from you?”

Fauta’s eyes shot up in surprise. “My, if I had known it would make you upset, I would have made an effort.”

She tried not to take offense by the notion that she was not a priority in his calls, if Fauta ever made them. She thought about what Ergon said the first night he danced with her, and began to think his suspicions were right. What if Fauta was not interested in her at all? If only she could sneak a peek at Lady Nightbloom’s previous papers that spoke of him. Neither Dancel nor Ergon would let her read them in their entirety, for fear of inappropriate details and stories no lady should ever learn.

He must have noticed her frowning. “But if Miss Morningstar desires it, I would be more than happy to make some additional arrangements,” he winked.

The music slowed to a stop. The dancers bowed and the crowd applauded. Fauta did not let go of her hand.

“Come with me,” he said. His sweet dulcet tone made her stomach knot. Instead of escorting her back to Dancel, he led her away from the party. They walked so as not to arouse any suspicion, but Daleon could feel electricity at the tips of her toes and wanted to run. To where she wasn’t certain.

When she saw he was about to take her outside, where there was not a single soul to keep watch, she pulled back.

“We will only be a moment,” he said, understanding her worries. He smiled softly, placing his hand atop hers to reassure her. “I promise.”

She looked over her shoulder and into the soiree to see if Dancel was looking. His back had been turned, and he was speaking to a lady. Another one secretly trying for his favor, no doubt. A moment couldn’t hurt, thought Daleon, and Fauta certainly wouldn’t do anything incorrigible, would he?

She let him lead her outside the ballroom, past the footmen who stood by the window-paned doors. The cool night air nipped at her arms through her thin satin gloves, and moonlight painted the stone floors an ethereal blue. Fauta held her by the waist, guiding her somewhat deeper into the shadows, until her back was pressed against a stone column. The chirping crickets were their only witnesses. Daleon could still hear party-goers chattering inside, the noises reduced to thrumming murmurs.

Even with his face casted in shadow, Daleon could see Fauta smile. She did not know whether to be moved or terrified by Fauta’s boldness. But perhaps this would be one of many instances where she could get to know him beyond the level of societal courtesies.

“They could be looking for us,” she said.

Fauta didn’t seem to pay attention to the severity of their situation. It seemed he didn’t care. “Then allow me to express my affections, swiftly.”

Fauta gently traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. Her breathing stilled. He hypnotized her, by the way his stare bore into hers, and she dared not look away. His fingers brushed her lip, and she felt lightning jolt her back to reality. She gently pushed the man away and began to march towards the door. That was close. Too close. What had she been thinking?

“My lord,” she rasped, almost unable to find her footing on the ground. Her stomach felt strange, twisting and turning in ways she never had before.

“Miss Morningstar,” he called for her. “I apologize. I know that was brash. However, you must understand. There is only so little a gentleman can do to gain your affection. And let us speak truths: time is short for the likes of us.”

She stopped and turned to listen.

“Imagine it: months and months of this same old charade. You’ll have to forgive me in the future when I run out of things to talk about. I would rather take the risk and be bold than wait.”

Fauta closed in on Daleon as he spoke, until they were inches apart and Daleon could feel his quivering breath on her face. There was a sad flicker in Fauta’s eyes, and for a moment, Daleon believed he had loved her, but behind that glimmer she saw a shadow of loneliness. He wanted a companion more than a friend or lover.

Wine and perfume wafted over her like a spell, crumbling her thin walls. And yet she did not feel at ease, at least, not in the way she did before this very moment. His words almost seemed rehearsed.

“You will forgive me, won’t you?”

She almost didn’t notice the way his arm had snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. In her haste, her hand pressed against his chest, and his heart beat erratically beneath her gloved fingertips.

“Fauta!”

A menacing shadow shattered the illusion. The warm light of the door refracted off Gab’s hair, almost creating a golden halo above him.

“Your audacity astounds me to no end,” he growled, marching towards them. “How dare you attempt such actions in public.”

Fauta groaned. “What joy for you to ruin the occasion, cousin.” He pulled Daleon even closer. She pushed against him, harder this time, not wanting Gabriel to scrutinize her, but it was too late.

Gab clenched his jaw. “Heaven knows what silly promises and stories you’ve put into her head, like all the other ladies and adventuresses you’ve bedded,”

“Let us not discuss such things in front the lady—”

“Lady or not, I will not allow a Driscol to be careless with his honor! For as long as you live under the House of Paradiso, you will not escape that fate,”

“How I choose to live my life is none of your business!”

Gab’s next retort came without him having to open his mouth. He closed the distance between them, until he was within elbow’s reach of the viscount.

Slap!

The shock of the events unfolding before her melted whatever words were on her tongue. She didn’t think anyone could be as violent as Ergon, but Gab’s wrath was rather cold where Ergon’s blazed.

“Lord Driscol,” Daleon rushed to the viscount, who pressed a hand to his slowly swelling cheek. It appeared he hit just as hard as her brother.

“I’m alright,” said Fauta. “I’m sorry you had to witness such an affair.” His tone was a lot quieter, feeble.

“Let’s get you inside,” Daleon took the viscount by the hand and guided him back to the soiree. She waved to the watchmen and instructed them to fetch the viscount some refreshments and a cold towel. She was about to join them, but she was not quite finished with the Duke.

She gently closed the doors, and faced him. “Was that truly necessary?”

Gab glossed over her head to toe.

“You should be thanking me,” he said, dusting his glove as if he had sullied it. “It is unfortunate enough that you allowed yourself to be led outside without a chaperon. Again, I might add."

He scoffed at the thought. “Are you that daft? Or has Dancel been insufficient with his teachings?”

Daleon crossed her arms, glaring at the man in front of her. She might have drawn the line long ago with his tone, but underhandedly insulting Dancel was an all-new low.

“As gentlemanly as you may seem, you do not even offer patience and kindness to your own kin,” she snapped. “If that is you treat your family, heaven forbid you find yourself a wife,”

It took a moment for Gab to respond. He probably did not expect she would be vocal about how daunting she found him.

“I am doing you a kindness by warning you that associating with Fauta is not a wise endeavor. You will ruin yourself before you can find a suitable husband,”

“And you think of yourself as suitable?” He had some nerve. “No sensible lady would wish to entertain a future with a stubborn bull. An Opal indeed. Nightbloom should have called you a lump of coal!”

“A lump of— Ugh. How blissful it is for a lady to not constantly be hounded by mothers,” he said the word with such venom, as if his sarcasm wasn’t enough for Daleon. “Who won’t desist until I choose one of their sorry sows—”

“And I should care not to," Daleon cut him off. “The sooner you announce yourself engaged, the other ladies will flock to someone else; to a gentleman who will surely treat them better than you ever will. Then perhaps you will be a sorry sow for all the things you’ve said.”

The silence that followed filled Daleon with a surge of confidence. Served him right.

“…That is a rather astute observation coming from a simpleton like you,”

Whatever he thought, she didn’t care. He wasn’t worth her sentiments. She should be returning to Dancel already, heaven knows how much he worried when it came to her. She picked up her skirts, intending to leave the duke out in the cold by his lonesome-

“A moment, miss Morningstar,”

She bit back a groan as she stopped. Why did she have to listen to this brute?

“What is it?”

“If you truly wish to be rid of me, then allow me to be blunt: I am only here to ensure my cousin Angela finds a match. But I can not see my task through when I have all these mothers chasing me. You have just given me an idea. What I need is a distraction,”

Daleon stared at him, trying not to get lost in his cursedly stunning eyes as she pieced together what he wanted from her.

“And how am I meant to assist you in that regard?”

“You dislike me, and I find you naive. A simpleton such as yourself would suit me perfectly. With my good word, every gentleman will look to you. They will compete for your affections, and you may scrutinize their intentions more closely - better than Fauta’s. With you on my arm, people will think I have found my duchess, and leave me alone. Provided you find me as displeasing as I find you, what do we have to lose?”

For all his ruthlessness, he had some courage to ask her this. Daleon needed to think quickly. If she agreed to his plan, she would lose some edge on the market, but that was not a concern. Her presence would merely offer him protection. She had to admit his plan had merits. The sooner he was gone, the less likelihood she was to suffer his personality. And she would not deny the possible thrill of having the men compete over her. It could test them, for once. It was, as he put it, simple.

“So," Gab held out his hand. "Will you honor me with a dance?”

When the doors opened once more, it was as if the king himself had entered the room. A hush came over the crowd, stunned to see the Diamond and the Opal of the season together, hand in hand. Daleon fixed her gaze straight ahead on the quartet, barely catching Dancel’s undoubtedly surprised expression.

She could only imagine the things Lady Nightbloom would write about the next morning.

The pair made their way to the dance floor, and it was only when they stood face to face that Daleon’s legs began to wobble. But when Gab took her into his hold, his commanding energy washed over her, keeping her upright.

“Hold your head high, and look only at me,” he said. “If this is to work, we must appear…enamored, with each other.”

That was easy for Daleon. She dreamt of being whisked away into a waltz such as this, where if she wanted to, she could close her eyes and let herself be lost in the movement and music. Gab held her firmly, but not harshly. She could tell he had danced before, but with how rare his appearance even was in the ton, she wondered when was the last time he had.

But even more than the insatiable curiosity to know the conniving entity before her, she found herself staring, once more, into those wistful blue eyes.

#heavenlyhelly #fanfic #my writing

[hhbridgertonau]

4 - A Brief Respite

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They finally found Jellie in the quiet saloon of the Alexandrite manor alone, with Peggy, no less. Although the viscount would have been suggestively accused, the way he stuttered and tripped over his words trying to defend himself told Gab that Jellie had been the instigator of an otherwise clandestine affair.

If Gab’s miniature outrage at the party had not been sufficient, he had suffered enough from his stay in town and his cousins. They returned to Stewart Hall, defeated and dejected.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed at the youngest Stewart. “Had it not occurred to you that you could have been seen?”

“Oh, so it is ‘what if you were seen?’ and not ‘did he touch you inappropriately?’ ” Jellie remarked, unfazed by Gab’s furious display. “I was growing bored of the evening’s affairs, and the Viscount happened to pass by. I had a simple inquiry to make, nothing more.”

“About what?”

“What makes you think I’ll tell you? Now if you will excuse me, I’m quite tired.”

Jellie scurried to her room before Gab could even voice his retort. The ingrate. If Gab were Jellie’s father, he would have reprimanded her for being such a disagreeable child. He wondered if she was secretly romantically interested in the Viscount, and whether it would explain why she had rudely dismissed the other suitors. It was an unlikely story, but Jellie was such an enigma he was willing to believe it.

Instead of retiring for the evening, Gab made his way to the family library. He needed to think. What was the most efficient way to get Jellie, an absolute headache of a lady (if she could be called one), an ideal match? Anyone lower than an Earl was out of the question. Ideally, it had to be a marquis, or a duke, or if God favored them, a prince. He thought of the lady Fauta danced with - the Marquess of Fernshire. She was unique, he supposed. If she had a brother, Fauta could introduce her, and she could introduce him. But that was only if the Marquis was looking for a wife. Nonsense. He should be looking for one. Any nobleman with sense would be. That was not the case for Gab, however. He still had years ahead of him before he needed to be concerned with heirs.

A knock disrupted his respite. Ainsworth stood by the doorway. The shadows cast by the lamps highlighted the hollow of cheeks, the lines of age that surfaced on his forehead, and the growing crow's feet. How strange to see him age, Gab thought. Ainsworth always seemed like an immortal being to them.

“At ease,” he said. “I heard Jellie was not amenable to any matches.”

“With all due respect, your Lordship. She is…difficult.”

“She has her father’s spirit and her mother’s stubbornness.” Ainsworth sighed wearily. “If this season fails, there will always be the next one.”

“My Lord, we cannot wait for another season.”

Jellie was twenty-one. Next year, she might have a chance, but the year after? There were younger, more desired, ladies. And that was only the logistics of it. In truth, Gab didn’t want to deal with her anymore than he already did.

“I am in no particular hurry, Gabriel. Not for wealth, or great-grandchildren. But the fact remains: Jellie cannot stay with me. I may be capable now, but her duties should not lie with me, but to her future husband and children.”

Duty. That was always the word he associated his parents and older peers with. It was the burden he and his cousins carried since the day they were born. Duty meant to be robbed of the joys of childhood, and to be reprimanded for failure. That was the kind of life David Stewart, Ainsworth’s father, bestowed upon his children. And their children after. And soon, without doubt, their children. His children.

Gab still believed in that Stewart-Driscol creed: duty above all. And was it not his duty to ensure that the prospects of their families were preserved and maintained for future generations?

“I told you not to dance with him,” said Ergon as they arrived home.

Daleon was more than prepared to face her brother’s wrath. “I was only being polite,” she replied. “I did not have any other gentleman reserved to dance with me, thanks to you.”

Her lower lip stuck out as she pouted. “Lord Driscol and I only danced once. And then that other fellow decided to sour the evening. Who was he anyway?”

“Gabriel Driscol,” Dancel answered. “The Duke of Edengrove.”

Ergon looked thoughtful. “He’s a character for certain. A perfectly clean record. I would have allowed him to dance with you.”

She gasped, shocked that her brother would suggest such a thing. “He was awful. He berated Fauta as if he had done an unspeakable crime.”

The look on their faces soured when she spoke Fauta’s name.

“Gabriel is perhaps the most stringent with his moral code compared to his cousins,” Dancel explained. “If the king had his way, he would be in over his head deciding which lady would be best matched for both of us. But Driscol and I are similar on two fronts: we both pity and despise the king’s efforts to find us a match; and we dislike the prospect of marriage, though I’m certain his reason is different from mine.”

It was a waste of his beauty, Daleon thought. No lady would want a man with such a distasteful temperament. But there were other pressing matters.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. I refuse to attend another ball if Ergon is to be my chaperon again.”

He shrugged. “Very well then. No one in this ton deserves to be your husband, anyway.”

Daleon flushed. “How dare you? I am the one who shall face scrutiny if I do not find a match—”

“And we’ve told you time and time again, there would be no need. Dancel and I can provide for you.”

“I do not wish to live under both of your shadows for the rest of my life. I especially do not wish to live under yours!” She stomped her foot in frustration.

“Well, I do not wish my sister to be off chasing fairy tales!”

“Do you see this, your grace?”

Dancel sighed. “Ergon, I made a promise. Your task was to protect her, not prevent her from socializing.“

Ergon glowered at Dancel. “You said it yourself that she had no need to marry—”

“A need is different from a want. And this want is harmless. In fact, it has its benefits. She will do us great honor, regardless of whether she finds a match or not.” Dancel folded his hands behind him, glaring at the older twin. It was clear whose wrath was superior.

“I am merely respecting her wishes.” He said. Though his tone was gentle, the rumbling timber of his voice echoed across the grandiose foyer. “Are you respecting hers?”

Ergon's shoulders rose and shook with every seething breath. Daleon braced herself for a potential shout, an undignified curse even, but it never came.

“Good night, my lord.” He shed off his coat, nearly tearing the fabric, and threw it in Zaheer’s direction. The head butler of the Morningstar estate gingerly picked up the fabric, dusting it off.

An anvil weighed in on her stomach as she was about to follow her brother. “Ergon—”

“Let him go, starling,” the family watched as the eldest Morningstar marched up the steps. “He will learn when he comes to be in my position some day.”

Daleon could only watch and flinch when her brother slammed the door to his bedroom.

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