Hating Her King

The BRITISH BLOOD TRILOGY (Loving Her Duke - First: Hating Her King - Second: Saving Her Prince - Third)

June 1821

The sun was finally setting, dipping far to the horizon and over Westside Manor, a glow like never before hung beautifully. Hues of pink and gold cast across the sky, giving a sense of serenity and peace. It was the most beautiful sight. Perhaps the sunset was the same as before. Perhaps, nothing was a stranger. Perhaps the only difference was the promised visitors to come.

Gwen stood in her room with her back against the wall, watching outside the window that overlooked the yard, waiting, listening for the invited party. Her nerves were in disarray as her fingers would not stop tingling. She watched as the gentle evening breeze troubled the tiny grasses while the leaves of the big trees danced to it, mocking it. She felt the tingle again and recognized it. It was the same feeling her fingers always retained whenever she played the piano, or ate something truly delicious, or got away with her naughty ways. It was the tingle of excitement.

For a moment, she thought of the piano she had not played in a long while, missing the excitement and happiness she gained wherever the keys were under her fingers, obeying her every command. There was no piano to play now but the excitement remained, rooting from another reason, stemming for another objective; branching towards another purpose: the visit and possible receiving of her future husband.

Slowly, Gwen rubbed her palms together trying to calm her fingers, before nervously sliding them over her hair. Was she properly dressed? Was her hair beautifully designed? She hoped so. Beth had done it and had promised it was beautiful. As there was the possibility that she might be called into the Marble Room later on, to see and know her future groom; and his family, of course, she hoped to appear flawless. She would be introduced to the man she would share her life with. Not now, though, someday, when she finally turned eighteen.

A betrothed.

She had a betrothed.

Mother had told her a few days before that, at birth, she had been betrothed to the son of the Viscount of Sorway – the next Viscount. Although Gwen had been confused, she had accepted her family's decision and when Beth had acquired a portrait of him – how it was she was able to, Gwen had no knowledge – she had fully accepted her fate. Her quite good-looking fate.

She was happy. Her family had prepared for her a husband so she did not have to worry about the hassle of finding one for herself after making her debut in society as a young lady of marriageable age. Poor Beth had been made to undergo a series of lessons as she would be making her debut in a few months. Gwen had been excluded from most of the classes her sister had been made to attend, but although mother had assigned her to some, they were not as cruel as Beth's classes, or so she liked to think. She would not have to prepare for the London season as her dear sister. Her life was planned and she wasn't complaining. It was a perfect thought; a perfect plan.

She realized she was smiling, but she couldn't help it.

The smile dwelt on her face, threatening to rip it apart, hurting her cheeks. The family was happy and although Beth was happy for her, still she wondered – why did she have a marriage prospect but Beth was without one?

Gwen jerked, thinking she had heard movement along the yard, but it was silent, no nuance of carriage wheels. With a sigh, she inspected the yard to confirm that their guests were truly yet to arrive, then pulled the faded draperies close, to lean against the wall again. There was no one.

Beth was older than her and should have one already if that was the way of the family. In a few weeks, her sister would be eighteen and when the London season came, she would make her debut into society. She was simply thirteen yet she already had a man's proposal. How was it possible?

Gwen walked to the mirror to inspect her look and smiled, satisfied with it. Did her family make the arrangements because she was younger? Or because her sister was already prepared to debut into society? She paused. They couldn't have. Mother said it was made when she was nothing but a baby, and said someday it would all make sense. She hoped the day came quickly and that it would indeed become sensible. It was confusing, but she trusted her family, they had her best interest at heart, of that, she was sure.

The sound of galloping horses halted her thoughts and pulled her attention outside. This time, unmistaken, she heard movements. Gwen thrilled. They had come, they had finally come! With haste, she raced and looked through the windows – peeped actually, eager to know. Her heart was pounding with curiosity.

The approaching team of horses were magnificent, with a powerful and sturdy look. They pulled with them a carriage of equal status on which hung a flag. The flag was engraved with an emblem like Gwen had never seen before – a crowned pigeon on a green patch of grass, encircled by a gold band. It must be the Coat of Arm of Sorway, she thought, smiling.

Their entrance was an elaborate show. They must be a powerful family, she thought.

She continued to look through faded draperies and saw her father and brother come down to meet the carriage, standing inches away, waiting to meet their guests. Gwen remained fixed to the window, waiting as well for the passengers to alight, curious to know them, impatient to wait anymore to know him. The man her family thought was right for her. The man she had been promised to.

After what felt like an eternity to the curious and impatient young woman, the carriage door finally opened, and a man alighted, taking great time. He was of average build, hardly tall, but tall enough to shame a dwarf, or so it was from where she stood. He had greying hair on his head, and chin of equally greying beard. He was richly dressed and an air of aloofness hung around him. He had to be Lord Cossington, the current Viscount of Sorway, she thought.

Gwen's nose twitched. He did not hold her interest. It was not him she was waiting to see. He was not the one she hoped to see. The man shared a short handshake with her father and waited for her brother, Eric, to bow to him, before waving his hand to the carriage, urging someone to come forth. Her eyes automatically went to the carriage again.

Very slowly and with an entirety of charisma, like he owned all the time in the world, a much younger version of the Viscount stepped down and Gwen's anticipation exploded. Her groom had come! she thought. He was not as young as she was, possibly as old as Beth or a bit older, but young still, tall enough for his supposed age, and equally richly dressed. He shook her father after a slight bow and gave a short handshake to Eric. He leaned in and spoke to his father before her father ushered them into the Manor.

Gwen moved and the draperies dropped, hiding her from them, the silly smile remaining on her face. She couldn't stop it, neither did she want to. Her future husband had come, and although there was not enough time to scrutinize him perfectly, he was every bit as handsome as the portrait Beth had provided her, not that she cared for that. She intended to love him either way.

He was taller than his father, though not as tall as Eric, had brown hair and was showing off a man who knew the authority and security of his status in the society. One who would not only be a protector to her but a protector to all round about him.

Delirious with joy, she ran off to her bed and buried her head in the fray bed covers, laughing gaily and bizarrely. How great was the man she was meant to love? Gwen questioned, rolling about in her bed cover. Love? What was it she knew about such love? Her cheeks burnt from the embarrassment of her thoughts. She knew nothing of it.

Gaining enough sobriety, she sat up with a start. She would learn, Gwen decided, falling back again, bringing her head to rest on a pillow, careful not to make a mess of her hair. With her eyes stationed on the ceiling, she soliloquized. In a matter of years, she would be married and made to run her home as a Viscountess, she intended to be steadfast and she was prepared to learn. Learn the ways of his family and the ways of a wife. With a giggle, she brought her palms to her face, blushing and rolling about in her bed again.

How great was it to know of one's future. Father had promised to allow her into society early. She would attend balls and parties knowing her betrothed waited for her. He would dance the night away with her and she would feel safe in his arms. In society, she would be protected by her father, her brother, and now her betrothed. What greater blessing could come?

All too suddenly, Gwen sat up again, almost causing her head to reel. She simply must cease reading Beth's books. They continuously filled her head with nonsense and thoughts that should not be. Thoughts their mother would never approve of. Gwen wished the piano was still in the Manor, so she could play and play and let the melody fill her rather than thoughts of her married life that was still in the far future.

She wished the piano had not been removed so she could allow her immense happiness float out of her fingers into joyous melodies. The joy she was feeling was so mighty she was unsure how to use it.

Perhaps like Beth, she should write about it.

Gwen wasn't one to play with an inkpot and parchments. She would rather choose to race around the Manor or engage in activities to cause one to worry than sit still or pick up a book to read. She enjoyed physical work, no matter how unproductive, she enjoyed it, but at the moment, she was bursting with excitement and needed to contain it. She couldn't run around the Manor or walk about their land, their mother would have a fit. Maybe if she really scribbled in a book like Beth, or on a parchment as she had no books, she would be able to take a hold on her emotions.

Without a second to lose, she ran to her table, grabbed a parchment and sat down to write about her future groom.

She wrote:

They are here! The family that I am to one day be a part of, they have come! They seem strong and wealthy, and even though I do not care for those, Mother says it is best if they are present, for they would grant security. I suppose I shall be very secure then.'

She giggled.

'I saw him. It should be him for why would it not be? A young man, maybe a little younger than Eric, but like Eric, a man already. He is handsome, more than the portrait of him I possess. And powerful too.

I do not know why Father and Eric asked me to remain in my room, it is strange, I must admit, and I wish to obey them but I am too curious to sit still. I want to know him; to hear his voice and know what my prospective husband thinks of me. I cannot believe that in five mere years to come, I shall be married. I would not be paraded around in the London season of my coming out.

Is it a mystery or is it accurate that I do not know his name? Perhaps it is how it is done, at least until the final proposal is made. And is it also not strange that I have a betrothed, but Beth does not? Why does she have no prospect of her own? Maybe she went forth to learn the name of her betrothed and the alliance had to be cancelled.'

She paused in writing. It should not have been. Could it?

'I intend to visit the Marble Room, I shall remain unnoticed and learn as much as I can of him. My groom, my husband.

I shall be a good wife to him and a great mother to the children I will bear him. I hope our family will be as this family, and as fortunate with a happy life as mother and father, and children that would bring joy as much as I, Beth and Eric have brought Mother and Father. A loving family, one that I shall create.

Am I already living in the future we shall build together?! I suppose I am. It is how happy the very thought makes me.

I should go now. My groom awaits! My future awaits!!'

With a profound blush on her cheeks, Gwen left the parchment on the table, and walked out of the room, managing her steps enough to remain quiet.

Twilight had come and the sun had finally gone down, leaving a kind glow behind to illuminate the earth before torches could be raised. Slowly, Gwen made her way out, tiptoeing towards the Marble Room, clinging to the walls so no one would notice her – or her shadow. She wanted to know what was being discussed, what kind of future awaited her. Although it was her life, she knew the men made all the decisions, still she would learn of these decisions and establish them perfectly, in hopes to be a better wife than her groom ever thought about. She would be loving, caring and would be a great listener. The thought made her blush again.

Arriving at the Marble Room was no easy fit as most of the floorboards on the stairs had come loose and creaked in response to every of her movement, but she was determined to know, and apparently, so was her sister, Beth. Gwen was the least surprised.

Beth clung to the shut doors of the Marble Room, leaning lightly on it, trying to listen, curious as her, to find out of the happenings in the room. Gwen halted as soon as she saw Beth and dashed behind a pillar. Any further and she would be discovered and sent back to her room.

Gwen sighed. If she was caught and sent to her room, there would be no difference. Hiding behind the pillar was serving no purpose either for she wasn't close enough to hear, nor was the door opened for her to see. It was all uselessness.

As though her worries were being heard, Beth managed to pry one door open, enough to not be discovered herself and to gain enough knowledge from the room. With a sly smile, Gwen slowly crept closer to her sister, taking refuge yet again behind another pillar, and another, until she reached a vantage point to hear the conversation of the men in the room, and still remain unseen.

"... is not acceptable!"

She was taken aback.

Surprised at the volume of the voice, and the hint of anger that accompanied the refusal, Gwen leaned in sideways, pushing herself closer.

"I believe the contract talks about her, My Lord. This contract was drawn between you and the late Duke." That was her father's voice.

"The treacherous Duke, you mean." The voice was unfamiliar. Perhaps it was Lord Cossington's.

"It would do no good to pull up dead flies. That is all in the past."

"Is it?"

Silence.

Mrs. Grace, their housekeeper, came to the door and ignoring a shocked Beth, who had been oblivious of her arrival, entered the room with refreshments and until she exited, no word passed among the men. By the door, Beth shushed her with a finger across her lips and a sincere plea in her eyes. The housekeeper gave her a critical look but let her be, returning to the kitchen.

What was afoot? Did not her father invite Lord Cossington to discuss the matters of her betrothal, why then did it seem a bit heated in the room? What dead flies? What Duke, and why was he being discussed? Gwen wondered.

"Lord Cossington, let us stay in the present and in good faith discuss the future."

"The future is already ruined by the past."

"I beg your pardon." That was Eric, and he sounded different. He sounded emotional.

"I cannot honour this contract, Fitzgerald, because this contract is invalid."

"Invalid? How so?" Her father spoke again.

Beth moved slightly and Gwen concealed herself even further into the shadows. She had to remain anonymous.

"It was signed by two parties," her father continued. "One of which you are, and it was notarized by yours and his solicitors. Why should it suddenly become invalid?"

"Fitzgerald," the tone was lazy. "It promises an alliance of two great families, I presume that promise cannot now be kept."

What was happening?! And whatever was the Viscount of Sorway saying?! Two great families. Her family was a great one, maybe not in wealth like his, but they were not poor.

Her father's lean number of horses have reduced in the past months and the staff of the house had slowly become only Mrs. Grace. The draperies and the bedsheets had become frayed, but compared to others, they were still in use, and the piano had been taken away. She paused and inclined her head. Had they indeed gone poor?

"If it is about her dowry," her father yet spoke. "I assure you we will do our best to provide..."

"Your best is worthless and you know it." This time, it was the voice of a different person. It was neither the voices of her brother, her father nor the Viscount of Sorway. It was young and held a bit of aloofness. None else was in the room. None else but her betrothed. It was a sombre but proud, deserving of a man of his age and status, but somehow, it was not the voice she had expected. She was not sure what she had been expecting from her future husband, but it was not that.

"Be rather careful with your words. I find them quite insulting and we would not be insulted in our home." Eric said.

"Geoffrey, what did I tell you about control?" The older, foreign voice cautioned.

Gwen started.

Geoffrey. His name was Geoffrey. She smiled. It was a nice name. Geoffrey and Gwen, she tried it on for size, still smiling. In a few years the two names would always accompany each other, as too the bearers of the names. When she chuckled into her palm, Beth looked back searchingly, and she quickly seized her breath. How foolish of her to forget she was in hiding.

"I apologize, Father, but I am deserving of the best and this_ this girl is far from it."

"If you would please take care with your words, she is my sister and I do not take kindly to your bereaving words."

"Is she truly? Or is that not why we contend with words here?"

Gwen became confused. Was he not her betrothed, or had she been mistaken? Why were his words harsh? If anything, should he not be on her side? She pressed herself further against the pillar, her confusion gaining new heights.

"Well," he went on. "take a stand. Is she your sister or is she the daughter of a Duke?"

Eric became silent.

Gwen was utterly confused.

Was she truly the entity of discussion?

Why did the room continually fall into silence?

Who was the Duke that drew so much bone of contention?!

Someone coughed lightly. "Lord Cossington, the young lady remains the same that was spoken of here on this contract. Guinevere. Except you mean to break the contract, she remains the same."

So it was her they were discussing.

"No, she doesn't." It was the voice of the older man again. "It is clearly stated in the contracts except you, Fitzgerald hopes to blind me with lies."

"Lord Cossington!"

"My son was promised Guinevere! The daughter of a Duke, with fortune and a great title, not the daughter of a poor land baron, who's scrapping food together and can barely get by. Or do you suppose it is not known to the ton of your falling out of the little wealth you have?"

Silence fell on the room again, gaining length by the passing seconds.

Gwen could hear herself breathing. She could hear her breathing, and it was irregular. Their words made no sense. Surely they did not speak of her? Surely she was not the Guinevere being discussed and referred to as a Duke's daughter? It couldn't be.

And what was it about his wealth? For certain, her father was not so down in fortune as has been said, was he? What of the contract? Could it no longer be honoured because of her family's fortune? She leaned heavily on the pillar, this time, for support. Their words made no sense. Or had she been the fool all along? Had age let her family fool her all her life?

Gwen was young, the youngest of her parents' children but she was not as innocent or clueless as they thought or wished her to be. Although she loved playing the piano, and dashing around the house, she was very intelligent. She wouldn't read if it wasn't necessary or if it didn't for the moment hold her interest but she could make perfect conversation even at her age and bring words with perfect relations to a discussion.

She was not being made a fool of, was she? Did her family think she was too young and decided to make her a fool?

"I assure you, Lord Cossington," her father's voice came up once again. "the state of my fortune has nothing to do with my daughter nor with her dowry."

"Your daughter you call her, not the daughter of the Duke."

"You know the reason for why she is now called my daughter." He defended, sounding exasperated. "Lord Cossington_"

"This discussion is through, Fitzgerald." A sound of a hand slapping the tea table reverberated to the halls. "The reason for which she is now your daughter is the same for which she would not be my daughter-in-law. This contract is off!"

She was being rejected!

Gwen's breath caught.

She had been rejected!

She inhaled deeply and exhaled in an equal manner, trying to stabilize her breathing routine. She was being rejected after being disregarded as her father's child. Why was she being disregarded as her father's child by everyone in the room, including her father? Was she not a true Fitzgerald? Was she not the daughter of Radclyffe and Victoria Fitzgerald? If not, whose daughter was she?

She was without a marriage prospect. She was without a family.

'Who was she?!' She questioned, a small prang of pain lay on her chest.

The door remained slightly ajar, but instead of holding onto it as before, Beth leaned on the wall and Gwen saw the tears. Her sister was crying.

The sorrow was there, and Gwen felt Beth's sorrow for it was the same as hers. Overwhelming, yet depressing. It laid on her chest, seeming to, with force, press down all the joy that made her who she was. It was stealing what she stood for, and consuming her in the process.

A sad chuckle escaped her lips. It was unbelievable that she should be sad when until the previous day, she had no inkling of the existence of a marriage contract drawn in her honour. Although she had been out many times with her family, she had never meant the young man she was betrothed to. Why then was she hurt by their rejection? Why was she pained that he didn't want her? Why was it crushing her soul?

"The contract was rendered invalid a long time ago, it was your greed that caused us to revisit it."

"Your words are harsh." Eric said softly.

"And it would remain as it should, so you paupers can understand your standing in society." She heard that other voice again. Geoffrey's voice.

"Geoffrey, I shall not reprimand you anymore. You should learn to be kind with your words even if the other party is not deserving of it." His father rebuked him.

"Yes, Father.'

Not deserving? Gwen scoffed quietly. Her father and her brother were not deserving of kind words? She was not deserving of kind words? The Cossingtons were unkind. She had been momentarily rejected and an age-long contract had been condemned, why then do they continue to insult and humiliate?

"I suppose the reason for this meeting has been nullified." This time, it was her father who spoke. "Thank you for making your way here to Westside Manor."

He was politely ushering them out.

It was done with.

'She was no more betrothed to the heir of Sorway? Her engagement was no more? Would she now be paraded when she attained the age of eighteen in the London season?' She wondered.

Shaking her head, she caught herself. She was thinking in a different direction. A wrong direction.

Their conversation was one of confusion. She had come from her room to gain knowledge, but instead ended up with even greater questions. Was she not the daughter of Radclyffe Fitzgerald? Was she truly the daughter of a Duke? What happened to her father, her family?

Sadness washed over her. Was she indeed not the sister of Eric and Beth? She did not belong in Westside Manor? Even as her thoughts travelled far and wide, she heard the voice of the Viscount.

"Fitzgerald, I do have a preposition if you would agree, it would benefit us both."

Keenly, she paid attention, as did Beth who swiftly grabbed again unto the door, listening, waiting for good news.

"Seeing the marriage cannot be forwarded_"

He was interrupted. "You mean as you have rejected my sister."

"Eric." This time it was her father reprimanding her brother.

"Leave the boy be, he speaks only from emotions, but when you succeed your father and become Lord of this dingy estate, you would realize that emotions do nothing, wealth does."

How cruel!

"What is your preposition then, Lord Cossington?" Her father spoke tightly as though his teeth were clenched together. He seemed to have become more exasperated. Why did the Cossingtons speak with such unkindness?!

Silence.

Then, "Someday, my son would one day marry another,_"

"Hurrah to you, then." Eric interrupted, his tone ringing deep with mockery.

Lord Cossington did not stop. "_one with wealth and class, something you are lacking."

Gwen couldn't help the sad scoff. They were perfectly unkind and rude. How did her family think to marry her to such a family? Was it because she was not a Fitzgerald? She knew now that she wasn't. Or was it to give her to the highest bidder, someone who could rescue the family in dire straits?

Then why her? It could not be for fortune, could it? For if the family was in dire straits, then Beth's hand would have been out in marriage. She raised her head and looked at Beth who remained by the door, quiet and careful. How could she remain like so, Gwen wondered, when she was in disarray, scared of what to think and who to trust anymore?

The Viscount continued. "He would marry someone of note in the society." Silence. Everyone was waiting. "The girl, your daughter, is young, I am aware, but in a few years, she will become a woman, and even though she cannot be my son's wife, I believe they might share other alliances, as they both deserve to be happy."

Beth put her hand over her mouth, her eyes sparkling with some sort of knowledge. Gwen remained confused. What was happening? What hidden message was in Lord Cossington's speech.

A short silence.

"What then, is your preposition?"

Lord Cossington took his time. "It would be befitting of her status as your daughter and it would greatly benefit the family. You, for certain, could achieve much with the fortune acquired." Pause. "I believe you know what I speak of."

"I do not. Out with it, if you will." Her father urged. He was beginning to sound angry.

He cleared his throat. "Gwen, she is called; she seems like a good child after all and deserves to be cared for." Another short pause. "I suppose she can be my son's mistress." Gwen exhaled sharply. Lord Cossington continued. "Not now, of course, when she is of age. She would gain wealth, and Geoffrey would not be bored in his marriage. But you must know that whatever sons she might bear for him can never be the heirs to Sorway."

Gwen gasped. She was beyond shocked.