Sarah Jane was awakened by the twittering birds playing on her windowsill. The sound filled her mind, infusing her with a gentle calmness that made her want to bury herself further under the covers. Sighing contentedly, she allowed her eyelids to flutter halfway open, and she was greeted by a sight of wispy white curtains floating into the room, guiding the cool morning breeze to her reclined body.

She felt her body press into the mattress deeper. Closing her eyes, she allowed the comfort of her new home to embrace her.

Her mind was suddenly filled with the thoughts of Lord Killsworth. He kissed her twice and had behaved abominably afterward. A small inner voice had begged her to demand him to stop, and that she shan't be taken advantage of. But her body had acted out of its volition.

She was made of stern bones. She shuddered at the memory of the 10th Earl who she had vowed to be the last of her guardians to steal kisses from her.

Sarah Jane groaned inwardly.

When the 10th Earl kissed her, she felt fear and anxiety for days. She hid in dark corners when he was home and avoided the countess altogether.

"Stupid, stupid girl." She clucked her tongue just as Mathilda would have done if she found out her activities of the past evening.

She swung her legs from the bedclothes and dressed for battle. Sarah Jane was going to give Killsworth a talking to.

As she descended the stairs, a maid assigned to her bedchamber came running after her. People in the house were so unaccustomed to having guests that they were at a loss on how to act. Sarah Jane inquired after Mathilda, who reportedly was still resting from a head cold. The maid wrung her hands, perplexed that Sarah Jane did not need her for anything, even her hair or dressing.

"I am perfectly capable on my own, thank you," she said for the fifth time, as the maid refused to leave her side.

Rounding a corner after landing on the ground floor, a scullery maid poked her head from the kitchen. "My lady," she began, intercepting Sarah Jane while she was determinedly proceeding to the breakfast room.

"His lordship has given notice that he shall be joining you for breakfast."

Exactly as she had hoped. "Well, that would be lovely."

Smiling graciously and dismissing the upstairs maid, she surveyed the breakfast halls and found the sidings to be empty. Perhaps she had risen too early. It was odd for her usual waking hours, but as she was able to glance at the sun shining through the windows, it should not be any less than ten in the morning.

"Well, where is breakfast," she inquired as her eyes skimmed the tables. Nothing.

The maid followed her gaze, her expression implacable. Sarah Jane did seem to always be looking for food.

"Breakfast is at the open parlor, my lady."

Sarah Jane stopped and gave the maid a curious expression. "The parlor?" The one that reminded her of the sea? Was it not a drawing room?

"Of the far end, my lady, next to the vase."

Sarah Jane shot her a quizzical look.

What on earth was she talking about? This was a viscount's home, surely there was more than one vase!

But before Sarah Jane could express her disappointment with her response, the maid had bobbed a curtsy and excused herself.

With no more than five minutes, Sarah Jane knew exactly why the scullery maid had felt it important to mention the vase. The vase could not have been missed, even if the poor soul was blind.

Very well, he might not have seen it, because of the obvious ailment, but he could very well have gone through it and shatter the thing into thousands enough to hear and notice it.

She could not even quite wrap her head around the idea of having to transport the immense thing on sea.

"I see you've met the vase."

That low but brisk comment gave her a start. Why Lord Killsworth insists on giving her frights, she would never know, but he always seemed to be mocking her.

"It is an amphora in its strictest sense, but everyone is inclined to call it a vase."

"Hmmph." She turned her reddening face towards the amphora and had the itching idea to ignore Lord Killsworth. He did not deserve her attention. He was acting as if nothing had transpired between them last evening! How dare he treat her this way?

But she also wanted to give him her few cut words.

He eyed the vastly entertaining female curiously, as a smile quirked at his lips, and waited.

And waited.

And waited, tapping his boot to the floor.

Not extracting a single response from her, Killsworth impatiently tapped her shoulder, "Shall it be this way then?"

She kept her eyes at the vase, a small bubbling annoyance tickling her toes. She resisted the urge to turn to him as she spoke. "I have not met the vase, you see." Her mouth settled in a grim line.

He backed her to a corner where her only option was to feign a conversation with a vase! Horrid man.

"We haven't been formally introduced. I think he was meaning to before you rudely interrupted our... our..." She couldn't seem to find a word that would describe a vase introducing oneself.

Killsworth raised his brows. "Your?" Just barely over a day and she was already claiming property in his house?

"Our," her voice rose an octave higher, emphasizing the syllable. "You interrupted our meeting. My introduction with this Mr. Vase," she ended with a flourish.

Anthony glanced at the amphora and adjusted his cravat. "Ah..." He seemed to comprehend the workings of the proud female mind, but he would not endanger his health by proclaiming that notion aloud.

"If you insist, my lady. Pray, allow me the sincerest apologies." He gave a gallant nod to the vase. "We haven't been introduced—

Really this was silly.

She whirled furiously to face him. "Oh stop it."

He stopped immediately. She looked ready to lunge for his throat.

"Is that the only thing you should apologize for?"

"Indeed, by your tone, I seem to have many more sins on your person."

Sarah Jane took one large stride towards the door. "Must you always mock me so? Was the prospect of being your ward so atrocious, so distasteful, that you have taken it your best endeavor to make me realize and feel the same towards you?"

Immediately the smile on his face disappeared. There is nothing more off-putting that a lady distraught. "I assure you I do not find you atrocious." He straightened and opened the door for her.

They poured into the gardens even before the footman had reached his position.

"I don't understand you." Her voice clipped, a strand of hair falling over her cheek.

Anthony paused for a while. Sarah Jane was probably right. "Sometimes I don't even understand myself."

"What a rubbish explanation." A line formed permanently in between her brows, and Anthony fought the urge to laugh.

It felt surprisingly easy to tease her, and delightful to reap its rewards on her face. "I beg your forgiveness. I shall endeavor to behave."

She stopped, eyeing him suspiciously under her lashes as if to gauge if he was again funning her.

"Behave... better," he continued when she didn't say anything.

Relaxing, her chest released pent up air causing her face to lighten. The crease between her brows finally disappeared, as she spoke. "It is not a vase, you know," she stated mutinously.

He quirked his brow, urging her to explain herself further.

"A vase must contain flowers. Without flowers, it is merely a container, an empty jar with embellishments." Her head moved an inch, that proud tilt of her head he observed to be one of her habits when she thought she was saying something intelligent.

It was at that moment that Anthony discovered that Sarah Jane was the type of woman that just needed to have the last say at any given conversation. Even when the said conversation was turning decidedly odd.

Anthony contemplated to give her an answer but instead led them into the prepared garden table. "I shall immediately send for giant flowers to fill the amphora, my lady, and see if it suits you." He hoped that he would remember to do that, as it did sound like a promise.

She nodded and rounded the table to take her seat.

He cleared his throat and finally approached what he had in mind. "I had sought for your company this morning because I find that although you are quite singular, and appalling at times, it is quite refreshingly so. Merely, I'm having fun with you. The promising delight of having to vex you at any opportunity has proved to be my present greatest ambition." He motioned for her to take a seat.

The footman reappeared from what it seemed to be bushes and pulled a chair for her.

With gritted teeth, Sarah Jane wondered how difficult it would be to kill him in the outdoors in the view of the house staff. "Am I supposed to be flattered by your opinion of me, Lord Killsworth? Forgive me, but I find it every difficulty to enjoy your company."

"Ah, you wound me." His hand on his heart, a mocking smile on his lips. He motioned it again for her to take her seat. "Please join me. We have lots to discuss."

"You are in unusually high spirits today. A welcome change from your animalistic outrage." She took the seat graciously, flashing a smile at the footman, then returning with a scowl at Killsworth. "I can't begin to fathom what has sent your spirits so when you had not so much threatened me last evening."

"For that I apologize. You don't seem to be terribly bothered this morning, and it has set me at ease."

He gave her another jaunty grin. "I finally read the letter from your Mr. Collins," he opened amiably, as he took a seat of his own.

She was in for the greatest shock of her life, and Anthony could not help but push her over the edge, just a little bit further.

"He is not my Mr. Collins; I have never indicated that it is so." Sarah Jane could not control the small spread of warmth over her cheeks, her annoyance at her body betraying her emotions showing.

"Be at ease, dear Sarah Jane. I was merely teasing." He motioned to the spread on the table.

She visibly relaxed in the company of food. Tension left her body at the knowledge that her hunger might be appeased.

He brooded over the letter in his hands and shoved it in his vest. They were in an unusual predicament, but not if he could help it. In fact, he did realize himself that the prospect of Sarah Jane knowing Mr. Collins well enough to call him hers was quite—well not overly objectionable if he would so put a fine point on it, and it might do her well in some other circumstances—

"Ah so grave, my lord." She took an encouraging bite from the scone. "And in so early in the morning, if I may add."

With a smile, she smacked her lips savoring the sticky sweet flavor of the jam. "Pray tell, my lord, are you always this flipped? One would think that you have gone ill from your solitary existence."

Yes, kissing her twice, behaving abominably, threatening to remove her chance of a Season and then behaving as if they were regular friends, enjoying each other's company at breakfast.

Flipped it is.

"Not particularly," he murmured to himself.

"Sorry?"

It was quite possible that Sarah Jane had brought this change entirely by her insistence to remove him from his solitary life. And this current predicament was making him lose control of his behavior, not in any way, doing good to the state of his well-being.

He waited for her to swallow a bite, then responded. "I was merely pondering the possibility of you finding a husband that is all." He spoke so blithely that one would think he was merely talking about finding the best fruit in the orchard.

She choked.

Good heavens, well he was direct, wasn't he? She took a large gulp of tea and made the mistake of looking at the man so flipped that he must have truly been mad. She wondered, was he not a far relation of King George?

"I see that I am right, as I usually am." Confidently arching his brow, Anthony felt it important to mention that her begging for a Season made him aware that this was exactly her intention. After all, every unattached lady of marriageable age attends the Season for only one thing—a husband.

She nodded at his condescending tone, unable to counter the truth in his words. She was just surprised that he took the time to think about it, that was all. She did ask him of a Season herself.

Sarah Jane chose not to antagonize him any further and started butchering the food laid on the table.

Killsworth had read the letter from Mr. Collins early in the morning. The news of what he had discovered making him weak in the knees.

Mr. Collins was doubtful of the inheritance as no man except the king himself could entail titles and lands. The solicitor wagered that the document, when found, might reveal a different kind of arrangement. Letters have been found that the two lords, Rosenberg and Killsworth, had drafted and signed the contract in jest and the internal joke had been buried along with them in their graves.

Still, the signed letter might maintain its promise. His father had sold his 15-year-old green boy to the Earl of Rosenberg while being a pair of intoxicated fools at a local club. He was promised to Rosenberg's only daughter, then only 5 years old, if the title dissipated into dust.

Killsworth had paced in his bedchamber, echoing his distaste at the affairs and almost succumbing to drink at the brink of the early morning. But when he had remembered his arrangement with Lady Sarah Jane to provide her a Season, relief soon flooded him as he realized the solution to this dilemma.

He need not marry her if some other fool wanted her instead, and god willing, he will find that fool and release himself from this mess. It would release him from a marriage with this chit, but unfortunately not releasing him from the terrible need of bedding her, to which he would be sooner tie himself than to act upon. He wasn't a rougue.

"I forgive you."

"What?" Killsworth's thoughts were interrupted by the words in between loud chewing.

"I said, I forgive you." She took the tea to her mouth and washed the food down. Sarah Jane felt better with food in her stomach and it made her feel extra generous. "Provided we shall not repeat it, ever."

Anthony understood her meaning then. Although he wouldn't admit it aloud, it was definitely cad behavior. "I do apologize, I hadn't meant to..." his eyes wandered to possible eavesdroppers and dropped his voice so low that he feared that Sarah Jane might not hear him and he would have to repeat what he was about to say. "I hadn't meant to take advantage of this situation. Forgive me."

Sarah Jane nodded at once. "I accept," she whispered as low as him in between cuts of egg. "Forgive me as well,"

Anthony's brows rose, what could she be apologizing for?

"I hadn't meant to take advantage of you too." She hid a smile behind a spoonful of food.

Anthony nearly choked, but he relaxed in his seat, a grin spreading on his face as he thought about the ludicrousness of it all. And they settled into comfortable silence as they ate their meals.

Recalling the events of this morning, Anthony began to spy her mouth. Finally, the two smooth pink and pillowy cushions had closed, the first semblance of an aristocratic lady's lips, as they relaxed its position on her face made her a picture of femininity. Her mouth pinched up in the corners and puckered and pursed. None of his female acquaintances who conversed with him had the same mouth. Hers was just animated to the point that he feared that it would detach themselves from its owner.

Anthony was entirely sure that her manners and obvious confidence in her own opinions would do her no good in society. He suspected that his open calculation of her lips would do not much good either.

With a swift sip of tea and gentle clanking of silverware, Sarah Jane affixed her gaze to the man in front of her and cleared her throat.

Both of his eyebrows rose, a silent expression to implore her to continue.

She cleared her throat again. How was she to say that while partaking in a very delicious breakfast in a delightful silent company, she had promised herself to become a good and not bother him with any of her quite singular and appalling activities?

A steady minute had passed and she hasn't said a word. She cleared her throat once again.

"Perhaps some tea might—"

"Lord Viscount." She said loudly and paled. This was becoming a terrible habit.

That was not his name.

She cleared her throat once again. "Viscount Killsworth, my lord." Another ehem, there was no other way to go about this, was there?

"Shall you inquire of Mr. Collins' letter?"

"Ah, yes. I thank you." Sarah Jane thought that maybe delaying it would be a good turn of discussion.

"He has given enough information that there were still some affairs to be fixed in London, and if I wish to speak to him at once, then I must choose to meet him there. He won't be any earlier than a fortnight if we were to meet here." He pulled out the letter from his vest.

"Here," he pointed to recall what precisely what was said, moving his sight to the lines that were important for them both, carefully omitting the parts of the blasted arrangement from their fathers.

"I regret to have not met you earlier, Lord Killsworth, as pressing matters such as the funeral of the late Earl has to be attended to in Thurstason. However, much is to be discussed as you may need to meet Lady Sarah Jane much sooner than intended."

What an odd way to phrase things, Sarah Jane thought but did not dare voice it out lest she interrupted his news. "What will he be doing in London?"

"He has not mentioned, but it might have to do something with legal matters, I presume."

She pondered that for a moment. A viscount would be promoted to an Earl; surely it must be taken up with the parliament, or at least be considered with more speed than this.

"Will you be going to London to meet him?

"I have not decided." Killsworth knew better than to aspire the girl to harbor tender feelings for him. "Are you eager to be rid of me?" He winced after noting that his voice sounded just a touch hopeful. He needed her to stay away from him.

"Of course not," she responded with a quick shake of her head. "Quite the opposite, I do enjoy your company for many of my guardians have been a bore." But he had been too exciting as well, not that any respectable girl would mention it.

"But I am eager for you to be my guardian in its legal sense. You are still Killsworth today, and I shall be happy for you when you become the Earl."

"Well, I thank you." His insides tightened with both the surprise of finding satisfaction and fear that she enjoys his company.

"But..."

There must be nothing but bad news after a 'but' in Lady Sarah Jane's sentence.

"I have decided to be much behaved and to be the embodiment of all that is proper. I shall be a lady of light and virtue that no man shall ever take eyes off me, and then you shall be rid of me." She smiled, "The earldom is yours alone as soon as I am married off, and that is fine by me as that was how it was intended."

He was surprised at theat. At least the girl had the decency to be sensible.

Lady Sarah Jane still believed that her father gave away an earldom in his drunken stupor. Anthony was almost tempted to tell her the truth.

A ladylike clearing of throat reached his ears. "But..."

Oh bollocks, another 'but'.

It was at that moment that he chose to partake in his tea, this might be a long breakfast after all.

"You did kiss me." She said sheepishly and he choked on his tea.

"Twice as I remember quite correctly," Her eyes moving heavenward as a hand lifted to shield her eyes from the sun.

He swallowed, trying to forget she declared as much aloud.

Her silver eyes moved down to meet his, and she smiled, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. "The last one was quite wicked too." Ending her statement with a flourish, she lowered her gaze, now having the decency to be embarrassed.

The liquid spluttered under his nose as he thought of the servicing shadows near the bushes.

He gasped, "Enough." His voice coming in rasps as if he was strangled on a noose.

Lady Sarah Jane opened her mouth as if to speak, but he was quick.

He held a hand up, uttering, "please," as he steadied his breath and had some water to clean his throat.

The footmen rushed to clean the overturned silverwares and patted the table dry.

No, he can't possibly tell her of the arrangement. She was eager to be wed, and she will use her devices to trap him. She had every reason to, what with that contract, and his kissing and groping. He cringed at the thought.

Lady Sarah Jane would not have every reason to demand marriage if she didn't know of the contract's existence. Withholding this truth might be his only olive branch.

Women of marriageable age and such tenacity as hers would not find it beneath them to create different ploys to have him shackled to his knees. He knew this from experience.

No, he must be rid of this creature before she finds out of that possibility.

Seeing that Lord Killsworth had indeed flipped again, currently giving shadowed looks as he dove into one of his dark moods, Sarah Jane took it upon herself to bring the attention back to their important discussion before he had the chance to start behaving abominably and throwing threats here and there.

"Yes well." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat "I shall not hold you for your kisses. As I've said, I've forgiven you."

Killsworth visibly relaxed, tension and his dark mood leaving his body while she watched him. She pursed her lips, displeased with the information divulged by his simple exhalation of tensed air.

He was horrified by the notion of her forcing a union. And yet, he kissed her twice! She thought him to be a cad.

She brought her hand up to motion for a footman to give the visocount a napkin. "It might be just a shock you know."

"Shock?" It was such a short word to describe all the explosive combinations and combustion of his emotions.

"Yes, from shock. Everything was so terribly unexpected and I can only logically deduce that you have gone temporarily mad," She said sweetly, an ironic delivery of such telling words.

With her chin up, she continued, "You might be a far relation of the King; I've heard rumors about him you see."

"Mad?" He settled with a cough and a smile. "Logically deduce," he repeated while his coughs settled into small tickles of the throat. He reached back for his tea, smiling behind the cup. "Here I thought that it is you who have gone insane."

She looked affronted. Good.

"If you must know. The late earl had kissed me a many."

Anthony's eyes rounded, his mind traveling several paces before him.

"However, it was quite chaste. Very much unlike yours—with your tongue."

Anthony finally held both of his hands to stop her from continuing. He glanced at the footmen standing by the walls. Surely they will become the topic of the house help gossip—not that he wasn't usually the topic of the gossip.

"Please, I know of my sins."

He begged her to stop torturing his poor soul, and at such early hours.

"With this discussion, I think I have decided. I will go to London at once to speak to Mr. Collins." Yes, this woman needs a husband immediately, and the season was well under swing, she would need more than a fortnight to prepare. Times-a-wasting.

"And once you become Earl Rosenberg, we mustn't have a repeat performance of last night. It is most imprudent." She sounded like a forty-year-old Matron.

A boisterous laugh erupted in his chest. "Stay out of trouble while I am away, will you?"

He stood and leaned oh-so-casually over to her, hotly whispering his warnings in her ear. "I can assure you that I can keep my hands, or my lips, to myself, dear lady." Killsworth caught her hand then and pressed the lightest of kisses on the back of her ungloved hand and continued, "If you can endeavor to do so as well."

Successfully delivering his warning, he pulled on his vest and asked for his horse.

"I bid you adieu, my lady, in London we must meet again."

———-
A/N: Do you think a London season will be good for her? Let's discuss in the comments!

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