Where ignorance is bliss; it is folly to be wise! 

-Thomas Gray

. . .

What do you think life is like for a person with an abundance of money? Better; happy, because they can have any materialistic thing they desire? You cannot buy happiness- no matter the price.

I didn't always think this way. Though unfortunately, I was taught from the moment I was born to believe that finding a rich and powerful husband was all I was meant for. So I never strayed or tested the straight and carefully painted path created by my parents. They were the wise, all knowing adults while I was only a clueless child, after all.

Obeying every command without question, and looking perfect for each of the suitors was engrained into my brain like my own name. And in my childish mind I fantasized of a strong, handsome man sweeping me off my feet one day and taking care of me so I didn't have to worry about a thing- not that I ever had, really.

I was born to the First's- wealthy, powerful men and women of the worldwide nation Serendipity- which were like lords or ladies in the olden courts. Being born from First's made me a Second Lady.

I was supposed to be a Lord, my father would tell you. The only thing I could do for the family was marry into a higher status, and finding a man close enough to my age that didn't stare down my dress was a challenge.

Gifted with a beautiful face and drawing the eyes of all men, it would be easier for me than other's to marry up. That's what mother kept repeating since my birth, not caring in the slightest if I was remotely happy with my future husband.

In fact, there were many Lords who had already asked for my father's blessing in marriage, glimpsing my appearance and no doubt imagining what lay beneath the elaborate gowns. But those men were disgusting and despite my repulsion, I held a sweet smile in place as my father politely declined them the honor.

The smiling- it was all part of the rules my parents set. Four simple rules I would follow until my last breath.

1-Always smile and be polite.

2-Do not speak unless spoken to.

3- Use body language to your advantage.

4-Unless permitted by the man of the house, you are not permitted to talk to any person outside of family and/or royalty.

I did not want to differ from the plan that my parents had for me. In all honesty, I just wanted to make my father proud, if nothing else.

It all started out with the annual Serendipity debutante ball. This year's special theme was 'unmasked masquerade,' which seemed completely idiotic, but my best friend was helping me pick out fabric for my dress, regardless.

"I think you should do mulberry silk again this year. You always look divine in it!" Lyssa ran her caramel hands through fabric after fabric. Wool, velvet, cashmere, and so many types of silks that no one person could have ever possibly imagined.

I inspected the quality, rubbing the fabric between my forefinger and thumb. "I don't know. I want to do something truly spectacular this year. I need to stand out, Lyssa. Not blend in. All the other girls know that I usually wear mulberry silk, so they'll be wearing it this year."

I gracefully whipped around, smiling at the jittery and nervous looking seamstress. "What is your most expensive and ... rarest fabric?"

The red faced lady stuttered, "O-oh. Um ... that would be the mu-mulberry silk."

I frowned, looking the seamstress up and down. Assessing her usefulness. Snapping my fingers for my best friend, she flounced over, a bright smile on her face.

"Yes, my most beautiful and gracious best friend," She asked mockingly, rolling on her heels.

Turning to take in her stunning, molten golden hair and tanned, flawless skin, I snipped, "I'm done here. Find whatever you want."

An hour later, I sat on the plush couch in the seamstress's dressing room, waiting for her to come in with another horde of gowns to try on.

I huffed and stood. "Lyssa! Are you almost done? When I told you to find whatever you want, I didn't mean that you try on the entire store."

I swept the thick red curtain aside, leaning against the door frame of the large room with a concealed smile. Lyssa stood a few paces away, struggling to hold an array of gowns in her arms, dropping a red dress as she picked up a hideous, yellow tulle one. She glanced back at me, obviously irritated.

"Help me," She whined, sticking her tongue at me when I didn't move.

"Why," I asked, "You are the one picking more than you can carry."

She let out a grunt, telling me to shut it. I laughed, throwing my head back ... and laughed harder when she dropped two more plump gowns.

"I will help you if you pay for my fabric at the next, fine establishment," I said, a sweet smile plastered on my face.

"Fine," She groaned, "Just get over here and help me carry these to the fitting rooms."

I straightened up and made my way over to her, grinning, "You know, you could have asked for the seamstress' help."

She glared at me as I continued, "Oops, too late," and laughed again.

The gaggle of ingenuous, frilly girls cackled at the absolutely boring attempt at a joke. The straight jacketed young lord stood in the center of the group, holding a flute of flat champagne, not even worth drinking.

Turning my attention away from the noisy group, I lifted a flute of watered down brandy secretly to my lips, taking a small, yet very needed sip before setting it discreetly on the edge of the sunflower covered table. Just as the crystal glass connected with the edge, the tenth lord of the night sauntered over; the same hungry look in his eyes as in all the other's. My guard instantly went up, as did the need for another sip of disguised alcohol.

"Lord Deryll," I curtseyed, head dipping in the slightest indication of greeting.

His squinted beady eyes followed every movement of my chest, looking up to my face only when my smile turned brittle and I asked, "How are you enjoying the dances?"

His lips parted, oddly large teeth shining too brightly as he held out his left hand. "It goes as expected, though it would take a turn for the better if you would agree to a dance with me."

I laughed prettily, but would rather cut out my own tongue and shove it up my ass before letting his clammy hands anywhere near the delicate lacing of my bodice.

"I have to apologize terribly," I batted my eyelashes and tilted my head forward, as if sharing some scandalous secret, "I twisted my ankle horribly this afternoon while working on my waltz and can hardly move my ankle- the reason why I haven't moved from this dreadful spot for three hours."

His overly gelled hair practically stuck up my nose as he supposedly looked down to glance at my covered- and completely fine- ankle. Though, not surprisingly, he surpassed my ankle altogether and wound up staring down the top of my dress- as much as he could.

I wanted to say many vulgar things, but I was taught at the prime age of three, ladies must never say or do such things, so I instead lifted my chin and waved an arm briskly across my forehead, feigning a headache.

He frowned, but bent at the waist and scuttled away, off to torture another poor debutante.

A smooth, rich voice commented in my ear, "Despite the unfortunate men that have come up to you this evening, you seem a little lonely in this corner all by yourself. Some might mistake you for a wallflower."

It caused me to jump, but I settled my nerves and turned to find a tall, handsome man- no more than two years older than me- with baby blue eyes and slicked back, golden hair shining off the light. Like a prince in a fairy tale.

The breath caught in my chest and I felt heat rising to my cheeks. Fighting to find something of substance to say and keep my composure, I racked my brain, taking him in at the same time.

By the slight gold trim on his uncharacteristically white tux, I could tell he must have been of some ranking within the King's close circle. No one other than the King's closest would dare to wear a tux that wasn't the boring, expected black. My brain snagged on the only thing it could and I decided that he seemed like a man who would appreciate actual humor.

With a charming, joking smile, I challenged,"You are wearing a white tux. Some might mistake you for a rebel."

I was correct as his eyes twinkled and he chuckled, "I happen to love the color white."

He eyed my laced, creamy bodice and full satin skirts with an utterly perfect smile. Straight teeth, not too shiny- and his lips pulled back evenly. Could he have been anymore perfect?

"As do I," I smiled back, finding myself eager to continue our conversation all the way back to the church pastor. "May I ask why you might also possibly be construed as a male wallflower?"

His perfect, not too bushy or sparse golden eyebrows rose in amusement. "A 'male wallflower?' I don't believe I've ever had the honor of being called such."

The blush bloomed brighter in my cheeks and I was grateful for all the grueling training on how to keep my composure while men looked down my dress, or tried to make moves that would reflect poorly on his family's name. While the golden haired, blue eyed man wasn't doing either, the training helped keep me from stuttering.

I let out a soft chuckle and smiled coyly, "Then I presume that I must be the most interesting person here, if no other debutantes called you out on it."

He cracked a smile as well and said just as coyly, "Oh, yes. You seem to be the only debutante here worth speaking to. The rest would rather attempt intoxicating me and taking me home to their fathers for entertainment."

I nearly choked on air, taken aback at his brazenness. It was close to what I had hoped to do. "Really?" I asked, the picture of innocence. 

He cocked his head. "Well, they would definitely attempt it, I have no doubt. Failing ultimately, when they realize that the champagne is far too flat to intoxicate anyone who has any brain ..."

Just then, a very intoxicated and stumbling Lord Rkyer moseyed past and he added, "Or tolerance."

I laughed quietly, surprised to be enjoying his company. At most of the debutante balls, I evaded the lords and went straight to the darkest possible corner- to scope out the possibility that a lord of authenticity would be among the flocks. Maybe I had finally found a good sheep to herd.

"Do you drink much," I asked, genuinely curious.

He shook his head once, but told truly amusing stories about the drunken adventures of his friends. It was nearly ten when he abruptly stopped mid-story and held out his left hand, asking me to a dance. The song the orchestra played was the first waltz of the night, but also a signal that the ball was coming to an end- with a scandalous bang, of course.

Forgetting all pretense of a twisted ankle and avoiding the gaze of all the lords who previously asked me to dance, I took his hand and curtseyed, following him to the center of the gleaming dance floor. His large hand dwarfed mine, but he gripped it gently, leading. Left arm wrapped around my back and resting on my shoulder blade as a gentleman should have- nothing like the rest of the Lords in the vicinity- and I could feel the flexed muscles beneath the fabric of his finely tailored suit. It was rather attractive that he could lead me in a dance and keep his hands from venturing down to my ass.

Our bodies were close, the skirts of my dress pressed between our legs as we moved in sync. The completely sufferable heat radiating off his body flushed my skin and I couldn't begin to endeavor how to form coherent words.

Every movement he made, I mirrored perfectly, and not once did either of us stumble. Not once did he have to look at his feet to recall the simple, yet elegant steps that led us around the dance hall in graceful arcs and sweeps. His light, inquisitive eyes stayed on mine the entire dance, never wavering.

By the end of the dance, perspiration glittered on the swell of my chest and I knew that he was the one. Of all of the debutante balls I'd attended and tolerated, I'd found the one Lord that I could marry and be decently content with. Father and mother would approve of his status, and I would be more than happy to let him be the rest of my life.

"Thank you for the lovely dance, I thoroughly enjoyed it," I said, arms lowered, but still as close to him as we'd been during the dance. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed the other dancing couples flutter off the floor, leaving to get their clothing items.

His gorgeous eyes bore into mine as his full lips moved, forming words, surprisingly. "You are welcome, I thoroughly enjoyed it as well. Would it be possible for me to learn your name and commit it to memory for future purposes?"

My heart soared and for the first time in my life, I hoped generously that this man would make an appointment with my father to ask for his blessing.

"Lady Alene Locken," I said. "And yours?"

"Lord Elland Denville."

I smiled and took a step back, readying myself to share all that had happened tonight with Lyssa. "Well then, Lord Denville, it was honestly the most pleasurable evening I've had at a debutante ball. I hope to see you next year."

He returned the sentiments and guided me to the coat counter, assisting me in putting on the heavy fur thing. He was such a gentleman! So much, that he led me down the wide marble stairs to my waiting limousine, arm in arm.

Opening my door, he whispered in my ear as I slid into the leather interior, "Until we meet again, Lady Alene."