1899

Late Afternoon

Theodore Mansion

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire

***************

Ocean-blue eyes, pink heart-shaped smooth lips, a reddening nose, and a dimpled chin delicately framed in straight raven-black hair.

Lydia stood in front of a big dark mansion on the outskirts of the city, Critic Arley. She was consumed by the delight of finally being out of the Statham estate, so much so that it was masking her fear of the unknown.

Last week, a letter had been delivered to their estate, the Statham estate, stating that there was a banquet in this eerie mansion she stood in front of, and every lady in the Empire would be lucky to attend. She had been surprised when Father had come to give her a dress personally. In his words, it was so that she could go to the banquet with her sisters.

She had been shocked, nonetheless happy, as that was the first time the family had let her go to such a prominent place for any reason. This morning, when it was time to go, her sisters had insisted she go ahead of them, stating that they would come to the banquet later on. She had merely agreed because they had never taken a liking to her. So perhaps they just did not want to be in the same carriage space as her, she thought.

She had been unduly merry about going out to think too much of their refusal to go with her. But as she stood in front of this dark, eerie mansion now, she began to rethink her impulsive agreement to come here alone. She felt a chill run down her spine, and her palms became wet as she stared at the stone-brick building that seemed to have a life of its own, and that life was intent on swallowing her.

Had her family played a prank on her? She shook her head to get the crazy thought out of it. Father would not do that to me, she mused. Perhaps she was too early, and that explained why there were no carriages packed outside. She could wait it out here to not look too eager or desperate. Despite being home most of her life, she knew that much as a noble—patience and a smile.

But Lydia couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. She looked around but found nothing. This deepened the frown she didn't realize had formed between her brows.

Moments passed, and inevitably curiosity got the better of her. She found herself unhurriedly going up the front stairs. She glanced left before pushing both sides of the grand door; they came apart with a thundering sound, making her hold her breath.

The walls were black. As she released it, her sight was met with an empty hall, one that was decorated elegantly yet subtly, perhaps to keep the mansion's actual setting unchanged. With curiosity, Lydia swept her calculating and apprehensive gaze around, catching everything she could. The mansion was twice as large as the estate she had come from, but sadly, nothing eye-catching was in it, except its darkness.

The hall was plain, and the decorations, she realized, could have been done by a man, considering how uncomplicated it looked. There was red and gold satin hanging in a fancy way around the large array of steps coming from the upper part of the mansion. She noticed the floor wasn't painted black like the rest of the mansion, making her breath a bit easier, less labored, and hopeful.

"This place is dreadful," she agreed with herself before walking slowly to a table set with drinks.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her and thought, finally, she had company. With unconcealed excitement, she turned around, only for her excitement to die down as she was met with the most dangerous of men in Critic Arley.

"Lord Theodore," she gasped as her eyes went wide with recognition. She paled. Why is he here?

"I must not have been as discreet as I thought I was for a mere sheltered girl to recognize me," he commented. His voice was cold yet rich and calm. Shivers raced down her spine, and the sweat gathering on her palm dripped while his gaze trailed to her clenched fist.

"I thought the banquet was only for ladies," she countered. The courage she used to say that surprised Lydia herself.

"As this is my mansion, I had assumed it would be disrespectful of me to leave my guest alone in the mansion," he paused. "Has my intention been perceived wrongly?" He raised an elegant brow as he watched the emotions crossing her face one after another: confusion, denial, realization, and then fright.

"You… your mansion?" she croaked out with a frown, and then it hit her. She took a step back.

Of course, it was the surname-less Lord's mansion. She had read so much about almost everything in this Empire, which is how she had immediately known this was Lord Theodore. All the facial descriptions in the history books and newspapers she had read made her memorize him. She blamed herself for having forgotten about the mansion that has its own life. She had felt strange earlier, but her excitement had prevented her from using her brain. Now she had to talk her way out of this, and that was something Lydia didn't do very well at.

"Please accept my sincerest apologies, my Lord. My coachman must have dropped me off at the wrong mansion," she squeaked. That came out polished and sincere; she almost smirked.

"Is that so?"

His questioning was accompanied by his firm gaze on her. Why is he asking her as though he does not believe her, she thought. He tilted his chin, looking to his side, and that allowed Lydia a chance to look at him. His gold locks were in a messy bun, he had a well-defined chin, thin lips, and a nose she could picture sniffing her shoulder line up to her neck. Her heart skipped, and he returned his gaze to her, prompting her to draw in a sharp breath. That earned her a small smirk.

"If I may ask, where were you going to?"

His throaty voice was soft now. She also appeared a bit relaxed now as she cleaned her sweaty palm on her green dress.

"To a banquet hosted at a mansion in town for young ladies," she declared. Her answer made him chuckle.

It seemed she had been deceived into the monster's lair.

"Oh? But the only banquet taking place in Critic Arley today is the bride-selection banquet in Lord Theodore's mansion, Gooseberry."

Gooseberry?

"But… they…" she trailed off, her stutter. She didn't want to get married to Lord Theodore! But with only her being present here now, she already had his attention. Her eyes widened.

"Theo, will you stop scaring her? It's utterly unethical. She's our first guest," a man with dark blond hair appeared from the stairs with a full infectious smile that Lydia almost got affected to smile too.

"And will be our only guest. Shut the gates," Lord Theodore asserted, making Conan shake his head as he went ahead to shut the gates anyway.

"What about the others? My sisters are coming too?" she asked, still trying to hold on to the little hope she had that her family had not thrown her under the cart.

"Gooseberry…" Theodore purred, one that sounded more like a pity-filled warning. "No one is coming to a banquet at my mansion, perhaps only if they are held with a sword to their throats," he told her.

And he didn't enjoy it as pain flashed through her face for a few seconds. Father. Had he finally given up on pretending he cared? She couldn't even think about her mother because her mother made it obvious from the beginning that she hated her even before her birth.

Her head dropped. What is she doing here now? Why did they send her here? She mused. How stupid she had been to believe Father suddenly cared about her having some exposure to the outside world.

Theodore took a step closer to her, so she raised her head to meet his eyes.

"The banquet is ongoing, and here you are. Can I have your first dance?" Theodore had an unexplainable urge to make her forget what had been done to her. The way her ocean eyes glistened made him frown. He finally found her, the one that could shift his heart.

"I would deem you a kind man if you let me go back home, Lord Theodore," she let out. She didn't sound scared anymore, and the determination in her eyes was admirable.

"But I am no ordinary man, Gooseberry," he countered. A beautiful smirk bloomed on his face.

She let out a slow breath, her lips parting slightly to breathe satisfactorily. It was winterfall, but she was feeling hot, and her sweaty palm was irritating her.

"Not to forget, there is no home for you to go back to. And if you still see the house that sent you to my mansion as home, I'm obliged to tell you that you do not deserve to be my wife," he declared unashamedly. He sure is full of himself, she thought. She assumed she would be crazy to want to marry him, but she couldn't say that to him as she was in his territory, and his aura didn't scream easygoing like the man that left just now.

"Auspiciously, I never asked to be your wife," she threw back at him, her back now facing him.

"Yet here you are," he drawled. He was closer to her than she thought because that was a whisper on her hair.

"Just one dance," she agreed. She turned to him with a practiced smile. She was going to stick with the hope that she may have misunderstood what happened and that her family didn't sacrifice her.

"They did not bat an eye as they left you behind," Theodore added casually. His eyes fixed on her reaction.

'Father must have instructed them to,' she thought sadly, she was sure about this, and her gaze turned down.

"You should be grateful. Few get the chance to be the next lady of the mansion," he told her, but she could sense he did not believe that himself. The grin he wore was playful. There was something else about this man that made her heart race. Was it fear? A sudden chill washed over her as she imagined the worst.

"You think it funny to laugh at the misery of the helpless?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Not funny, just amusing," he stated calmly.

"Then I must be nothing but a clown to you."

"You will not be the first to think so," Theodore said casually as he moved to take her hand. "Shall we?"

She took it with a surpressed sigh and a press of her lips.

"They did not bat an eye before throwing you here as a sacrifice" he commented with conviction.

Theodore knew no one who loved their daughter would send her to his mansion for a bridal selection. No matter how greedy they were.

The Emperor could have the whole family's head for treason so Theodore wondered why her own family sent her.

Did they not fear the Emperor's wrath? Or did they hate her so much that they overlooked logical reasoning?

Sacrifice.

Is that what she is right now? Lydia blinks fast to return the tears.

He drew her into his arms and a slow music started to flow towards them, it made her feel a bit calm.

"And they will do it again if you come out of this unscathed," he told her.

"Will you let me go unscathed" she drawls, testing the water as she places her long fingers on his broad chest the action made him smile. Pleased she wasn't acting too coy.

"Gooseberry, I would never do anything to destroy you but the same cannot be said about the people who sent you here" he replied.

If he hated her family for sending her here she would gladly leave to not attract a punishment, her mind screamed.

"I could leave right after the dance" she suggested.

Their eyes met.

Striking blue orbs staring right into her greenish blue ones.

He was never letting go, he vowed in his head.

"So eager to run, aren't we?" he twirled her to the music and she almost giggled

"I am not letting you go anywhere, as this is now your new home" he declared.

At the same time, the music came to an end just as Lydia's heart came to a stop.

Her new home?

"Breath gooseberry, I wouldn't want you experiencing small deaths before our wedding night" he sniffed her neck and she almost sighed.

Pleased.