Chapter 8 The Duke Of Carlisle!

She lifted her head, surprised he had heard her. The moonlight danced on her face again. Flustered, she said. "By my standards, I am. I am quite a meticulous being." She turned to him and tried to make out his face but the light from behind made her effort fruitless. Somehow, he stood on the spot where she couldn't see him, maybe on purpose. "I can't handle alcohol well," she continued, "but tonight I am on the bridge, questioning if to cross." She smacked her lips and whispered. "Maybe I will. That might just be enough for Aunt Marrily to leave me be."

"You don't enjoy parties? Or is it this particular ball you are against?" He drank from his glass.

She thought for a moment. "This ball is amazing, and parties are wonderful, but my ever-forward and free-spirited Aunt has introduced me to every gentleman in that room." She threw her head in the direction of the ballroom. "I think I have had my fair share for a lifetime."

"That cannot be true." She turned to him. "You weren't introduced to me."

His drawl sounded familiar and Beth thought to herself that it must be a voice she'd heard before. She looked away. "I was exaggerating." Had she really not been introduced to him? Why then did his voice remind her of someone? Of something?

"I know." He deadpanned. Was that his idea of a joke? It was quiet for a while. Then, "Ladies of the gentry would be overjoyed to be introduced to so many gentlemen."

She scoffed. "If so, I am no lady of the gentry." Beth knew she did not care of the things most were chasing after fanatically. "They are welcome to as many gentlemen as they choose. Besides, most that are excited are just stepping out from their lesson rooms." She glanced at him again but he was looking out over the garden.

"You were excited once." He said as though he knew her.

She paused and thought to lie. "That was ages ago." She smiled."I really was glad to be asked to dance at a ball." She always was beyond glad; she had been grateful.

He was quiet. "You don't seem happy about it; to dance now with gentlemen." He waited for her answer and she was unwilling to give. He exhaled and turned to her. "You should learn to enjoy it to a point; else you would be a bad wife and a bad hostess to your husband and your guests in his home."

She met to scoff but snorted instead. Her eyes widened in embarrassment. Quickly, she cleared her throat. "You needn't worry. I care nothing about a husband or guests in his home." Her cheeks were flushed. She never should have said that, much less to a stranger.

"That is quite unheard of." He drained his glass. "Still, I've heard it twice today." Carefully, he placed the empty glass on the railing.

A gentle breeze blew, disturbing the strands of her hair Lucy had intentionally let down. "Marriage is not all it is said to be. I think it is highly overrated." He said nothing further. Beth waited for a moment for his comment, a question or a statement, but absolutely nothing. "You think me mad, don't you?"

"I don't suppose you walked up a hill this morning? Holding up a conversation with a man?"

Beth was completely taken aback. She stepped away from the railing. "I walked up a hill this morning and I met someone." She stood up straight, surprised. "How did you come to know of it?"

He turned to her, stood to his full height and walked out into perfect view. "Charles de Norcrosse, Duke of Carlisle." He held out his hand. "I did meet you again."

For a moment, Beth was stunned. She stared right at him, or rather, up at him for he was tall. The man before her held a nuance to the man she had met earlier. She was mesmerized. Catching herself, she blunted. "You were the man I met on the way to the hills?" When his introduction came to her, she almost yelled. "You are the Lord of Carlisle?! The host of this ball?"

He dropped his hand and looked to the garden. "My Mother, the Dowager Duchess, is the hostess. She outdid herself, didn't she?" His eyes rested once more on her. "I'll let her know that as she wants, her parties are the talk of town."

Beth caught herself and quickly bowed. "Your Grace. I apologize for offending earlier up the hills. It was not my intention."

After a moment, he said. "Do continue to speak to me with as much freedom as from before." He again leaned on the railing. "I let myself out here because the sycophants and all seeking my favour were building. Don't let my status deter you."

How could his status not deter her? How could she speak so freely to him knowing now his status and the power he held? How was it that she had met the Duke of Carlisle, not once, but two times? The questions in her head came one after the other.

He was no ordinary man. Charles de Norcrosse,the Duke of Carlisle. He was rumoured to be the most powerful man in the realm, save for the King. Many said he was almost as powerful as the King and that he was friends with the same; a man expelling both powerful grace and wealth in large amounts; young and on the verge of bachelorhood, if rumours were any to go by. A man the ladies of the gentry were violently after, who she had heard, was engaged, though not sure.

Beth imagined how glad the ladies would be if they were to be in the presence of such power, grace and masculinity. What wouldn't many give to be on the balcony with him. How ironic! She thought.

"You are quiet." His deep voice jolted her. "I suddenly regret telling you about myself."

She jumped at his words. "Oh no, please don't be. I apologize." She prompted. "My surprise at your revelation overwhelmed me. Do forgive me." She bowed again. Silence. To ease the atmosphere, Beth stuttered. "What a wonderful ball this is." Pained, she wished he took no notice of her shaken voice.

He nodded in agreement. "The Dowager Duchess, she's honouring my intended, in hopes that I would look more graciously upon her."

He truly was engaged. "And you don't?" He said nothing. "Oh, forgive my impulsiveness. I don't mean to pry."

Still looking out over the gardens, he said. "Can you please be as free with me as before? I will very much prefer that."

She clutched her hands and breathed out. "I can attempt to."

He nodded again and continued. "Like you, I hate the false institution called marriage."

She was astounded. "Hate is a strong word, Your Grace. I prefer to say I have an aversion to it, in theory and in practice, if I am to borrow my sister's words." If she was ever going to speak with ease in his presence, it would be best to speak from her heart and speak truly, she thought.

"I suppose hate is indeed a strong word." He looked straight at her. "I detest the thought of marriage."

Beth chuckled, quickly using her hand to cover her mouth. "I fail to see the difference,Your Grace."

"Somewhere one stands."