Ginelle had awakened some time before the sun had arisen. She had slept very little throughout the night, her mind plagued with fond memories that brought terrible pain to her heart. She had dreamt of warm, blue eyes and a smile that always comforted her fears. Her memories revealed moments of laughter and excitement as she and Eloise endured the velocity of time discussing literature and indulging on sweetened pastries.

            Ginelle gripped the edges of her robe as she stood before the window, her distant thoughts forcing unshed tears to her weary eyes.

            The dream had given her a moment of happiness but her happiness was short lived and she was standing before a casket, peering down at a listless body so pale and cold, empty of warmth and compassion, only the body before her was that of her father. Her loving devoted father who had abandoned her to this dejected world.

            Ginelle released a sharp breath followed by a heart-wrenching sob. She pressed a curled fist against her mouth to muffle her cry. Her chest ached with that familiar stab of pain and the erratic pace of her heart hastened with the profound grief that filled that deep hollowness in her chest.

            Her fingers curled around the locket dangling from around her neck and she whispered a silent prayer to her mother to take care of her father whose pain had been so unbearable that he left his daughter to brace the world alone on a misguided path of sorrow.

            How could he have been so selfish; to take his own life and abandon his child? Would she ever be able to forgive him?

            Her thoughts shifted to Eloise. Eloise had spoken very little of her family. She claimed Dorian had been her only kin left to her. What had happened to their mother and father? Her heart suddenly ached for Dorian. He was as much alone as she was in the world. Was his grief as deep? How badly did his sister’s death affect him?

            She knew very little to nothing about Dorian Don Ashford except that he stirred feelings in her that were both of fear and exhilaration. What was it about her reluctant guardian that left her breathless whenever he was near?

            He was indeed a menacing and challenging man who struck a fear in her that was quite unnerving but along with that fear were curiosity and a smidge of-what? Surely that feeling wasn’t admiration?

            Yes; admiration. She affirmed silently. She admired him because despite his short temperament and overbearing dominance, he had yet to lift a hand to her for her deliberate antagonism. In spite of her colored opinion of men she found she had the courage to stand her ground, even to a man like Dorian but what if she were wrong? What if Dorian were very much like the men she feared? He insisted on making decisions for her; could his ulterior motives be that of dominating her simply because she refused to submit to his demands?

            She pressed her fingers unknowingly to her lips at the remembrance of his kiss. She remembered the shock of electricity that coursed through her body at the memory of his fingers at the nape of her neck and the way his mouth invaded her own. She had never been kissed by a man and the sheer exhilarated feeling left her breathless and shaken, even now as she remembered the abrupt intimacy.

            She had expected fear and revulsion but in fact his kiss had flared a spark of inquisitiveness. If another man were to kiss her, would she feel the same jolt of heat and liveliness? She had never been so aware of a man except in that defining moment when he had kissed her.

            Ginelle shook her head in alarming awareness. What was she thinking? She detested men, all men. Dorian Ashford was no exception just because he hadn’t laid a hand on her, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t in time. She had to convince herself that all men were despicable beings that forced their will on women.

            She felt a slight pang of guilt for all men were not so heinous. Her father had been nothing like Pierino Basilotta. Yet, had he not sealed her fate with his selfish impulse in taking his life?

            “You are up early, pet.” Ginelle stiffened and brushed the tears clumsily from her face as Lucile’s voice came from behind. She turned and attempted a smile.

            Lucile stopped suddenly, her eyes settling on Ginelle’s distraught expression. Her brows knitted together with immediate concern as she crossed the room and seized Ginelle’s upper arms. “What troubles you, child?”

            Ginelle quickly sought an explanation that would appease Lucile’s anxiety. “I had a restless night.”

            “Nightmares, eh?” Lucile’s fingers squeezed her arms in reassurance. “They will go away in time, my dear.”

            Ginelle managed a weak smile before Lucile released her and crossed the room to her wardrobe. She opened the bureau and studied the row of gowns displayed on the bar. “I think it best you wear some pigment today. No more black, tis most unbecoming for your complexion.” She sifted through the large collection of gowns, selecting a few as she sorted through them.

            “Lucile-“

            “I won’t hear to your objections.” Lucile said sternly. She approached the bed and placed several gowns for Ginelle to observe.

            Ginelle had donned a gown of pink muslin with a neck-line that dipped low in the front trimmed in white lace. The dress was absolutely beautiful but the color did not fit her saddened state. If Lucile had not insisted on the lovely gown, she would have chosen another black dress.     “I have to go into town today. Would you like to go along? Get some fresh air?” Lucile asked as she worked at putting the other gowns back into the bureau.

            Ginelle turned abruptly to look at Lucile, her face pale against the morning sun. “What reason do you have to go to town?”

            “Cook has asked if I would go to the market and purchase a few satchels of fruit and a portion of mutton for this evening’s meal. I thought mayhap you would like to go along?”

            Ginelle shifted her hands nervously in the skirts of her gown. She had only ventured in to town with Eloise at her side and even than the particular places they ventured had been safe but each trip she had been fearful.

            If she traveled to the market she would be taking a big risk. The market hummed with life and plentiful pockets for crooks like Pierino lurking in the shadows to slip in and out of the crowd effortlessly stealing patrons. What if he spotted her?

            But she desperately wanted to escape the manor. The weather was beautiful and inviting. It had been several years since Pierino had seen her; she has changed much over time. He could not possibly recognize her now?

            She was no longer that frightened, broken child. If she was ever going to overcome her fears she would have to face them eventually.

            After a long pause and little hesitation, she said, “Yes. I would like very much to go along.” 

            Lucile nodded, “Good then. After you break your fast we will go.”

            Dorian studied the assortment of food laid out before him. Cook had gone out of her way this morning, preparing a seemingly sufficient course befitting a king and yet, Dorian’s plate remained untouched while Lieutenant Cummings to his left helped himself to a large portion of buttered eggs with cream.

            He leaned back in his chair to better observe his ravenous friend and felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. For a slender, tall man, Cummings could surely pack away an excessive amount of food.

            Cummings suddenly paused in his chewing as his gaze averted from his plate to a spot behind Dorian. Dorian frowned and turned in his chair and felt a sharp breath leave his body.

            She was radiant. The soft pink gown hugged her small frame, accentuating her tiny waist and the fullness of her breasts. Her silver-blond tresses had been piled high atop her head in a mass of curls and Dorian suddenly had the urge to wrap his fingers around a loose strand framing her face.

            Cummings shot to his feet as was custom, to stand in the presence of a Lady, and Dorian slowly followed, his unwavering stare forcing a deep blush to her porcelain skin.

            Ginelle found breathing to be extremely difficult as she entwined her hands to still the sudden trembling as she was keenly aware of those piercing blue eyes studying her intensely.

            She avoided Dorian’s face, fearful of the expression that darkened his features. She was certain his blackened countenance would reveal distaste.

            Instead, she directed her attention to a slender man with inviting, clever russet eyes. Ginelle was suddenly struck with the memory of a man catching her as she fainted in the corridor the day Eloise passed. The man who had grabbed her before she hit the floor was smiling back at her now.

            “You are a breath of fresh air, milady.” The man said as he curtsied and than straightened to flash a dazzling smile.

            Ginelle missed the deep scowl etched into Dorian’s face as she stepped towards the man and smiled timidly. “Forgive me but I-“ she hesitated, not wanting to offend him. She had met him once before when she first arrived at Ashford, but she couldn’t place a name to his face.

            His smile broadened, “Lieutenant Stefan Cummings, milady.”

            Her face brightened with recognition and Dorian’s scowl deepened. “Lieutenant Cummings.” She stated, “It is good to see you again and under better circumstances.”

            He laughed, “Indeed milady.” He replied as he motioned her to the seat next to him. Cummings cast a mischievous glance at Dorian whose face revealed evident displeasure.

            They settled into their chairs as a servant appeared to pour Ginelle a cup of apple with a pinch of sugar and honey. Ginelle took a sip of the pleasant concoction and her eyes met that icy stare from above the rim of her cup. She quickly averted her eyes to the plate set before her.

            “Allow me.” Cummings said as he began filling her plate with a variety of food.

            Dorian’s finger curled around his cup as he cast a dark glare at his Lieutenant vowing later to scold the fool for his forwardness.

            He stiffened with a jolt as sweet laughter bubbled up from Ginelle’s throat and she extended a hand to prevent Cummings from filling her plate with more food. “If I am mistaken, Lieutenant Cummings, I would think you are making a discreet indication that I am too thin?” she arched a brow as she observed him through humorous eyes.

            Her laughter affected Dorian in a confounding way. He suddenly yearned to hear her laughter, to watch that distinct glint in those gentle eyes catch the light. He wanted to see that blush stain her cheeks in a delicate shade of pink. He had a swift and sudden yearning to kiss those lips and taste her sweetness.

            He swallowed back the sudden groan that surfaced in his throat and jerked his attention to his plate.

            He was a handsome man. He could have any woman he wanted. Women swooned at his feet. So why did he find it absolutely infuriating that she would smile at Cummings? That she would laugh at his thoughtless jesting? Why did he have this intense desire to touch her skin, to run his fingers through her hair?

            Dorian had never heard her laugh or seen her smile but he had witnessed her anger. Her anger magnified the soft beauty of her eyes, brightening them in a way that revealed specks of green and gold. She was breathtaking in all her unrestrained anger but in the daylight with laughter illuminating her brown eyes and her sweet mouth titling in a delighted smile, her beauty magnified tenfold.

            He could hear their distant conversing through the course of his thoughts and his grip tightened around the silver goblet in his hand.

            “Will you be attending the banquet, Lieutenant Cummings?”

            “Are you inviting me, Lady Ginelle?”
            Dorian stood abruptly from his chair, startling both Ginelle and Cummings. He threw his napkin down onto his place, turned and stalked from the room.

            Cummings turned back to Ginelle and smiled sheepishly. “You will have to disregard his rudeness. He is in a foul mood this morning.”

            Ginelle caught Dorian’s retreating back before he disappeared from the hall. “You do not have to apologize for his boorish behavior. He is a complex man.”

            “He has had a complex life, milady.”

            Ginelle shifted her attention to Lieutenant Cummings, suddenly intrigued. “What do you mean?”

            Cummings cast a wary glance down the hall before cautiously continuing, “He is a man of many sorrows, painted black from his darkened past.”

            Ginelle leaned towards him at his lowered tone. “Darkened past?”

            “His father, Clayton Ashford was a powerful and wealthy man. His wife, the beautiful Lady Charlotte, had brought him a satisfying dowry that conciliated his greedy appetite for wealth and lay to rest any objections to their arranged marriage.”

            Ginelle listened intently, eager to know more about her dark, reticent guardian. “Did they love each other?”

            Cummings mouth formed a grim line, “They were strangers bound to hate each other.”

            Ginelle’s brows drew together in deep empathy. “What was Lady Charlotte like?”
            Cummings smiled a distant smile. “She was a beautiful woman; very quiet, soft spoken.” His smile filtered away and he added, “Dorian loved her as much as a child could love their mother.”

            “What happened to her?”

            He hesitated, a look of anguish altering the lines of his charming face. “She was murdered.”

            Ginelle inhaled sharply at the declaration. “No!” she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Who would do such a thing?”

            Cummings met her gaze, “Her husband.” He proclaimed despondently.

            Her eye’s widened, “Dorian’s father?”

            Cummings nodded.

            “Why would he murder his own wife?” her voice was tiny and hollow, her heart aching for the small boy who lost his mother so young.

            “Clayton Ashford was a greedy man. All the wealth and power he conducted was never enough. He wanted more therefore he took to gambling and with gambling came ale. He drank every night and came home to his wife in a fit of drunkenness and rage.”

            Ginelle trembled at the dreadful image. She could not picture Clayton Ashford; instead she pictured a face with sharp, black eyes and a mouth that cracked with a sneer. A man she feared would haunt her infinitely. “Did he strike the children?” her voice trembled at the thought. Had Eloise and Dorian endured the same abuse she had suffered?

            “Lady Charlotte sent her daughter to boarding school, fearing her daughter would become tainted if subjected to her father’s abuse.” He fell silent and Ginelle felt her heart beating harshly in her chest.

            “Dorian?”

            A distant look shadowed his face. “He remained at Ashford. He was the rightful heir to the Ashford manor. All of it would be his one day so he was to remain at the plantation and learn his keep.”

            “Was he a victim of his father’s abuse?” Ginelle clenched her hands in her lap to still their trembling.

            Lieutenant Cummings looked up at her, taking keen notice of the deep sadness in her brown eyes. “There was nothing that would drive him from Ashford, including the horrible beatings.” He fell silent as a maid entered the room to clear the table of forgotten plates. After the maid departed, he continued. “He would not leave his mother, knowing the pain she suffered. He waited for the day that he would overshadow Clayton Ashford. He waited for reckoning.”

            Ginelle knew that day of reckoning did not come.

            “His father returned one evening from a gamble, drunk and furious. They argued and eventually it progressed into a struggle.”

            “He killed her.” She whispered despairingly.

            He nodded. “He choked her.” He cleared his throat, “He was beyond himself; too far gone in his rage that he killed his own wife. He had gambled away their fortune and he had been stripped his Earldom. Dorian found his mother dead and his father hanging from the banister.”

            Ginelle gasped, horrified.

            “Dorian had to tell Lady Eloise of their horrifying deaths. He had to fight for the plantation for it was gambled to a man who cared less about a scrap of land.” He fell quiet as he took a swig from his cup before continuing. “Sending Lady Eloise to boarding school saved her from her father’s wrath. She had a heart of gold and Lady Charlotte knew Clayton Ashford would have done anything to break his daughter’s spirit.”

            Ginelle studied Cummings face taking note of the sudden distant look of warmth and adoration in his russet eyes. “You loved her.” It wasn’t a question but an assertion based on the obvious affection in the Lieutenant’s face.

            He nodded as he dropped his head to brush the crumbs from his lap. “I loved her from afar.”

            “Did you ever proclaim your love to her?” Ginelle asked softly, her heart aching for this heartbroken man.

            He lifted his head, “Her heart belonged to another.” Ginelle reached out and placed her hand on his above the table. She could see he struggled to not reveal his pain but it was their behind the depths of his eyes. “I miss the sound of her laughter, sweet and subtle, and the euphony of the piano as it came to life beneath her finger-tips.”

            “I loved her as well.” Ginelle related, lowering her head as she said, “She did more for me than anyone.” She felt the sting of tears and quickly fought them at bay.

            Cummings reached over and gently touched her shoulder, a genuine gesture as he asked, “You have suffered many hardships yourself?”

            She stiffened and leaned away, suddenly overcome with apprehension. She wasn’t ready to reveal her darkened past and she surely shouldn’t have meddled in Dorian’s. She cleared her throat and got to her feet, Cummings mirrored her movements, a puzzled look crossing his brow at her evident anxiety.

            “Forgive me Lieutenant, I’ve seem to have loss track of time.” She smiled apologetically as she smoothed her skirts of wrinkles. “I hope to see you again at the banquet.” She added in hopes he would not be offended by her abruptness.

            He smiled hesitantly, “Would be a pleasure, milady.”

            She left quickly, all the while feeling his russet eyes on her back. She felt terrible as she headed to her room to get her cloak. She should not have pried into Dorian’s past, but she was suddenly seized with a profound eagerness to learn more about her troubled guardian. She was struck with an astonishing realization. They were alike in all their suffering.

            She should not have been so quick to pass judgment. She had allowed her prejudice thoughts to form her opinion of Dorian without really seeking to understand him.

**********

            Lieutenant Cummings left the breakfast table in search of his Captain. He expected Dorian in a detrimental state for he had felt his sharp glares from across the table and he couldn’t help but grin.

            After having questioned a few of the servants, he headed out to the stables where he found Dorian saddling Lafeu.

            Cummings paused in the doorframe and braced his weight against the wall, smirking as he crossed his arms against his chest.

            Dorian cast him a venomous look, “Do you make sport of provoking me, Lieutenant?” he growled.

            Cummings frowned with a hint of wry humor glinting in his russet gaze. “I know not what you speak of.”

            Dorian released a sigh of exasperation as he stepped from Lafeu to better observe the triumphant expression etched into Cummings face. He narrowed his eyes in irritation. “You deliberately antagonize me and I intend to know why, Lieutenant.”

            Cummings shrugged, “Simply for my amusement, Capitaine.”

            “Whatever ploy you’re conducting, I suggest you drop it for I’m in no mood for your games.”

            Cummings gasped as he pressed a hand to his heart, feigning offense. “You would me, Capitaine.” He dropped his hand and grinned a toothy grin as Dorian turned back to Lafeu.

            Cummings straightened and moved to the opposite of the horse, somewhat relieved that a beast stood between him and his Captain. “I know the look of intrigue when I see it.”

            Dorian stiffened, “What the hell are you talking about?”

            “You want her and whether you want to admit it or not, you like her.”

            Dorian’s eyes narrowed dangerously to dark slits of ice. “I’ve warned you, Lieutenant about jesting.”

            “Tis not just desire that have you intrigued.” Cummings continued.

            Dorian growled impatiently, “What exactly are you implying?”

            “What you feel for her is beyond physical attraction.”

            “And you are such an expert on insight?” he demanded furiously.

            Cummings rolled his shoulders, “I am merely stating what I see with my own eyes, Capitaine.” his mouth mischievously quirked at the corners.

            “I’ve had enough of your inquiries, Lieutenant.” Dorian mounted the stallion and turned the horse towards the entrance, he paused to glare down at his Lieutenant. “I think it best you carry on with your duties. We have much of greater importance than those of mere observation to concern ourselves with.”

            All traces of humor fled the surface of his face as he nodded, keenly aware of the reason he had first come to Ashford this morning but beneath the surface, he couldn’t contain his amusement. He wanted Dorian grip the leather reins and steer Lafeu from the barn. Cummings had witnessed rage and jealousy etched into Dorian’s features earlier at breakfast, whether Dorian wanted to acknowledge it or not.

**********