Run Away Heart (Part 2)
A/N: So clearly ALOT of you want of this part of run away heart. I've been flooded with messages on this. And I hope this is up to your expectations!
Dear reader, May this message find you in high spirits. We are only a few days away from the introduction into society of Lady Danbury's only daughter Y/N. I don't mean to be so brash to say that The Danbury Estate hasn't had an even since. The passing of the late Lord Danbury's passing many years ago. So you can only imagine my surprise at this announcement, rumor has it the lady of the house is searching for a suitor for Y/n. We will know for sure when the day of the event comes to pass. Hopefully she won't crack under the whip of the community.
Yours Truly, Lady Whisteldown
The laughter that filled the drawing room was a melody not often heard in homes such as this. It danced across the gilded molding and up into the tall ceilings where chandeliers shimmered in the afternoon sun. You leaned over the table, clutching your side as Moana wiped away more tears of amusement. There was something freeing about speaking plainly in a world that expected perfection. Especially when the expectations had always been twice as heavy for someone like you.
A daughter born of nobility and difference. A girl who, by every standard of the ton, was not supposed to be here. Your skin was a rich shade of chestnut and your curls coiled beautifully past your shoulders and though you wore your family’s lineage with grace you knew what it looked like when others tried to measure your worth with the color of your skin. That was why, in the company of someone like Moana, you could finally breathe.
“I should not be laughing like this before a formal engagement party,” you said as you leaned back in the chair. “Mother would faint at the sight of me in tears from laughter. She barely survives when I laugh at all.”
“She should be grateful,” Moana replied cheekily as she popped a sugared raspberry into her mouth. “Most ladies I’ve served are either bitter or boring. You are neither.” The compliment settled into your chest like warm tea. Before you could respond, the heavy double doors creaked open and a familiar voice filled the space.
“There you are my darling girl,” your mother called, sweeping into the room with the grace of a duchess and the energy of a storm. “Laughing at the table like a tavern girl. Please do remind me why I raised you on opera and etiquette.” You rose with a gentle sigh. “Because you love me.”
She gave you a pointed look but allowed the smile to creep through the corners of her mouth. “Yes well that much is true. And I want all of London to fall in love with you too. That is why I took the liberty of inviting someone very special to the gathering.”
You blinked. “Who?” In confusion since you have only been here for a short time and had barely been out in society. “Lord Ashton Everleigh,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “He is the Duke of Langston’s eldest son. Polished. Incredibly wealthy. And recently returned from his time in India. He will be attending in your honor.”
Rolling your eyes slightly in disinterest. “Is that supposed to excite me or make me nervous?” You say leaning back in your seat.
“Both I should think.” Your mother says with a tight lip. “I’d suggest you get it together my darling daughter. You will be out socially and I have yet to present you to the queen formally. And she will be there as far as I know.”
Later that evening, long after your mother had retired to write letters and fret about floral arrangements, you found yourself at the window again. The estate gardens were illuminated under the soft wash of moonlight and you watched as fireflies blinked in the darkness like fleeting stars. Your fingers idly traced the glass pane. You could hear the soft thrum of music in your mind already. The swirl of gowns. The forced smiles. The weight of glances that always lingered too long on your skin.
You did not feel fear exactly. Just the tension of being watched without truly being seen. You had been raised to carry the weight of legacy on your shoulders but still there were moments like this where you wished you could run barefoot into the garden and let the wind tangle your curls without anyone there to fix them.
Maids moved quickly with polished silver and fresh linens. Moana arrived with steaming tea and the scent of jasmine. Your gown was laid out in the adjoining room. Lavender silk with cream lace along the neckline. It was beautiful. A perfect match for the occasion. And yet when you stood before it your stomach knotted. You didn’t want to be a vision in lavender. You wanted to be a person. A soul. Not an opportunity or a symbol.
“Don’t go stiff on me now,” Moana said gently as she began to dress you. “You look like a dream. And tonight you’re going to let them see that your laugh is not a scandal but a treasure.”
Her voice was soft and grounding and you closed your eyes as she fastened the final pearl button at the back of your gown. The mirror reflected a young woman the world would try to put in a box. But tonight you decided she would not shrink.
The evening bloomed with music and velvet voices. Guests moved through the estate like perfume. Soft and present. The chandeliers burned low and golden. You stood near the edge of the ballroom watching as your mother wove her way through clusters of nobility with the skill of a seasoned hostess. Then your name was called.
You turned. Looking for the deep voice calling out to you…..
Lord Ashton Everleigh was taller than you expected. He wore a navy coat embroidered in silver thread and his boots were shined so clean they mirrored the parquet floor. His hair was the color of burnt caramel and his eyes were thoughtful. Not the usual calculating sort of thoughtful you had come to expect but curious in a quieter way. He bowed deeply.
“Lady Delphine,” he said smoothly. “Your reputation does not do you justice.” You raised your chin slightly. “You’ve heard of me then.”
His light hazel eyes drink you up. “I’ve heard that you are beautiful and bold. But they did not mention how sharp you are. Nor how your voice carries like a violin’s last note.” You studied him. His words did not feel rehearsed. Nor did they feel heavy. He offered his arm and you took it without thinking.
As the music rose you felt yourself swept into the first dance of the night. Your gown moved like water around you. His hand rested just barely at your back. There was something strange in the way he looked at you. Not like he was trying to figure out where you fit in. But as if he already understood that you did. And that the room was better for it.
Around you the ton whispered and watched. But for once their gazes did not feel like chains. Not tonight. Because for the first time since arriving in London you weren’t just surviving the moment. You were dancing in it.
And it was only the beginning.
Part 1 3
Masterlist
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