On a drunken night, some time ago, someone said . . . “Sometimes I wonder how things might be different if we had met first.” @isabella-aldwyn

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On a drunken night, some time ago, someone said . . . “Sometimes I wonder how things might be different if we had met first.” @isabella-aldwyn
{ @isabellaxrossi }
the townhouse was a pristine whitewash. spanish tile, in the emblem of the royal crest, led up to the entrance way. bare branches in mid bloom. brilliant red rose buds. it was not giselle who answered the door but a man in livery. suit-jacketed with no crease of human inhabitants and a brilliant shine to his shoes. he gave a polite bow as he always did with unrecognized visitors. his english was broken. tinged with a heavy spanish accent. “princess asks that avoid coming to door, but she does answer letters. yes?” giselle, aware of the safety protocol, stopped mid-step outside of the doorframe, expecting the standard fangirl or press agent.
@isabella-aldwyn
things had, in all fairness, been rather challenging lately. beyond the st. clairs’ loss, and even ambrose’s stupid drunken bet, he found himself dropped right in the middle of conflict––this time between his brother and close friend––and the conflict happened to be over probably his closest friend, bella. a physical fight had broken out at the queen’s ball. even if he’d bet his sister’s hand in marriage, it didn’t mean the two of them should ruin all of her chances. ambrose and byron already had tension between them. how was he supposed to face his brother now?
ambrose had tossed and turned the entire night, even as drunk as he was, and finally gave up on sleep around dawn. he waited around until the sun was done rising so any social calls he made wouldn’t seem too improper.
he was painfully sober, but after last night, ambrose was going to avoid the hair of the dog for awhile. he was dressed haphazardly, not exactly an uncommon occurrence, and on a mission. it might be early, but he needed to speak to bella. she was often the only one who could soothe his mind. he waited outside her door while the servant that answered the door fetched her.
when he learned he’d be on the same boat as isabella (and emmaline), ambrose immediately made plans with her to arrive together. she was, after all, his best friend first and foremost. he was still surprised she hadn’t shunned him entirely. happily surprised, of course. ambrose tried not to seem too eager while awaiting bella’s arrival in the parlor, but he still paced back and forth along the tile, hands clasped behind his back as he did so. the servant waiting with him gave him a look, but ambrose had long ago stopped caring about the looks he received from staff. rarely were they kind, and when they were, they were almost always long time staff members who were long used to the st. clair child’s oddity. finally, he caught her descending the stairs, a big grin on his face. “miss aldwyn.” ( @isabella-aldwyn )
nancy, as far as chaperones went, was quite kind to ambrose and isabella. she seemed to keep their secrets and only began “ahem”ing when the two of them deserved it. she genuinely had bella’s best in mind. sometimes, though, that meant they had to escape her. best for bella meant boring, quite often. that’s what he found himself thinking as he watched nancy’s figure on the shore slowly shrink, helpless to stop their planned shenanigans.
once they were too far away to be caught, ambrose stopped rowing so bella could catch up and discuss their next move. “that was much easier than i expected it to be. part of me thinks she let us go on purpose.” he grinned, grabbing onto bella’s rowboat to keep them from drifting apart just yet. “all we said was that we’d go rowing. what are we supposed to do now that we’re out here?” ( @isabella-aldwyn )
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