"Leander Elzor Beaumont"
Aria's face twisted in disgust when she clasped her dress tightly, staring at the figure in front of her. It had only been a year since she had allegedly been transported to the past, and now she found herself here. Aria had desperately hoped that it was just a bad dream - that it wasn't real - but unfortunately, it was all too real. This blond, attractive man with hazel brown eyes; he was undeniably real.
As the man approached her, Aria's grip on her dress grew even tighter, while Irie, standing beside her, nudged her shoulder in excitement, indicating that her hand was being requested.
She stared at him for a long moment before reluctantly placing her hand in his, allowing him to plant a kiss on it. It took immense self-control for her not to yank her hand away and slap his arrogant face.
"Is something bothering you, Aria?" he asked, raising his head. Her grimace was the first thing he noticed.
Aria held an unmistakable aversion towards the man before her, only to find him audaciously addressing her by her first name. With a controlled air of distaste, she retorted, "I believe addressing me as Lady Silvestone is more fitting." Her voice carried a suppressed disgust, her head held high, and her demeanor unwavering.
Leander, dumbfounded, stared at her in sheer astonishment as Aria gracefully withdrew her hand from his, nonchalantly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I'll have to cleanse my hand as soon as he departs. The room was transfixed, especially Irie, who had always presumed Aria to be smitten with Leander.
A sense of concern for his honor and family standing compelled Evander, Aria's father, to awkwardly interject, his laughter ringing hollow. "Ah, it might be because, before your arrival, I had requested her to uphold the utmost elegance and noble conduct." His flimsy fabrication was an attempt, all too familiar to Aria, to veil her actions.
"Lord Beaumont, please, take a seat," Anastasia, Aria's mother, motioned towards a room adorned with exquisite furnishings suitable for a formal meeting. "Irie, kindly serve us some tea."
Irie presented a tray adorned with elegantly designed crimson and pearl tea cups, accompanied by a teapot bearing the family sigil – a crimson butterfly. Anastasia and Evander occupied adjacent seats, facing both Leander and Aria, who were seated across from each other. Maids stood in readiness, poised to attend to any requests.
Placing the tray on a central table, Irie and the maids distributed tea cups to all present. Aria, poised with crossed legs and hands resting on the arm of the furniture, held her teacup, her unwavering gaze directed at Leander. The brief respite of her idyllic interlude was over. If she intended to evade the fate that had befallen her in her previous life, she needed to take action. First on the agenda: her engagement to Leander Elzor Beaumont.
The memory was vivid – she had been betrothed to Leander at the tender age of ten, a union intended for status. Despite her father's reservations, Aria had been thrilled; he believed it was the best decision for her.
Sipping her tea, Aria couldn't hide her distaste – it was bitter. Her thoughts wandered, and she recollected why – her infatuation with the man across from her. She had altered her preferences to match his, even instructing Irie to serve her Matcha tea whenever Leander was present.
"Irie..." Aria's teacup clinked as it met the saucer, capturing the attention of all present. Irie hurried to her side. "Yes?"
"This is Matcha tea, is it not?" A firm nod from Irie affirmed it. "It's too bitter. Fetch me another." Aria's parents exchanged astonished glances, and Aria signaled for a maid to retrieve a fresh cup.
"Well then, what shall I bring you instead?" Irie inquired, perplexed. "Bring me White Peony tea," Aria replied with a gleam in her eye; she had always favored that variety.
"Isn't White Peony tea excessively sweet for your taste, Lady Silverstone?" Leander raised an eyebrow, swirling his teacup, seemingly intent on dissuading her, as a maid brought Aria her desired tea. "My apologies for shattering your preconceptions, Lord Beaumont, but White Peony tea aligns perfectly with my palate, unlike the Matcha tea you seem to favor so much." Aria's arms folded as she reclined on the couch, exuding an air of pride.
Leander's astonishment was palpable. Was this not the same young woman who had once seemed smitten with him? Clearly, she was not. With a throat-clearing that broke the silence, he produced a silver letter embellished with a burgundy figure of a lion – the House Beaumont sigil. "Lady Silvestone, permit me to extend an invitation to my younger brother's coming-of-age ceremony next week." The letter was placed before her.
"No."
The room was engulfed in collective astonishment – had she lost her senses? Aria's audacity sparked questions among all present, particularly Irie, who stood closest to the unfolding drama. "Lord Beaumont, A-Aria already has prior commitments for next week," Anastasia interjected hesitantly.
"Indeed, but attending could open the door for me to formally announce my engagement to her, isn't that right Duke Silverstone," Leander said, turning to Evander.
"L-Lord Beaumont is right, dear," Evander turned from Leander to his daughter in an attempt to sway her.
Aria leaned forward, unfolding her arms. He was right; her engagement to Leander had been initiated at this very event. Frustration gave way to a smirk. "You're correct, Father. It would be a great misfortune to decline." Rising abruptly, Aria addressed Leander, "Please pardon my momentary lapse, Lord Beaumont. I'm not quite sure what came over me." A curtsey followed. "I eagerly anticipate attending your brother's ceremony."
Leander's grin widened, mirroring Aria's standing stance, though he loomed over her. So, I haven't lost my grasp on her after all. She remained as she always was. "It's no trouble at all, Lady Silvestone –" Aria's interruption was swift. "Please, call me Aria."
"Of course, Aria." Leander's grin deepened as Aria clenched her dress in irritation. Oh, that grin. I swear, I'll wipe it off that pretty face of yours.