I wrung the cuffs of my sleeves, brushing my coat with one hand. Then I swept a coil of my curly hair to one side before tugging my top hat on.

I felt the Ace of Hearts on my head, but I paid it no mind. Who knew, maybe it could bring good luck?

I was welcomed to the tea parlor, a space quite like a balcony outside--a table covered in golden lace set up with proper utensils of silver. Hedges along the semicircle space were trimmed into animals, sprinkled by red and white roses. They moved like their real counterparts in a repetitive manner--the lion pouncing, then back to its position. The birds flying in endless circles.

I swore the cat sculpture wanted to eat me.

Then there was Josephine, in a gown of bright red--tight as a bodice, glittering ribbons of scarlet by her sleeves. She wore a hat with purple feathers, daisies, and roses. Her dark hair parted by the middle, sweeping down her shoulders to her back like a beautiful waterfall. She saw me with her blue eyes and flashed me a cherry red smile. "Lord Emerett Wells."

"Lady Josephine Llewellyn," I bowed and planted a kiss on her hand. "You look stunning today. More so than usual."

"You flatter me," her eyes twinkled, and I offered an arm which she greatly accepted--eagerly squeezing my shoulder. "I've been waiting for this tea all day."

"Then same as I."

I didn't know I was so good at lying.

It wasn't to say that she wasn't beautiful, no. In fact, she looked absolutely gorgeous. She was the perfect package, with her increasing popularity, beauty, kindness and wealth, but what I looked for wasn't in her.

Truth to be told, I didn't exactly know what I looked for, but I could tell it wasn't her. Wasn't someone arranged for me.

"Do you see that hedge up there?" she tapped my bicep, and pointed to one in particular above us, hanging down from golden rails. "They call it a kangaroo."

Animals, nor hedges found their place in my interests. But I liked words and letters. I liked the beautiful way how simple words could mean so many things at once when properly threaded. I liked names.

"Well, that's a peculiar name."

"It's from...Australia," she nodded. "I heard they keep their babies in pouches from their tummy. Isn't that simply adorable?"

"It sounds...like a toy."

"Exactly." her eyes twinkled with that small sparks I'd like to see again--like a firework in the deep blue sky. For a minute there, something stirred inside me.

I had seen the look before. On myself.

Suddenly, the servants around us started to play music with fiddles, and she blinked a few times, the sparks gone and replaced with a sophisticated gaze. She was--in some way--related to royalty, hence the natural look. But I--as her step-cousin thrice removed--didn't have the look. Seeing her lost it for a moment picked on my curiosity.

I wondered if she had to fake her interests as well.

"Oh, I apologize, Lord Wells," Josephine recoiled, her tone rasped, and clasped her hands together. "It's very improper of me to discuss such mundane topics."

"I...didn't mind."

Her fingers clamped tight. She pursed her lips, looking around, as if expecting anyone to come at me, then gestured to the food. "It's unwell to let the food go cold."

"I...couldn't agree more, my lady."

I did what I was taught to do at a very young age; pulling a chair for Lady Llewellyn to sit on. She gave a "thank you", and I sat on mine at the opposite.

Her chest rose in a tight manner, and I couldn't help but wonder how uncomfortable the dress was. Still, it was rude to stare, so I didn't dare to ask.

Servants in waistcoats took off silver lids from gourmet trays, and I swore they stole a look at me. Their skin was just as dark as mine, though their status in this society different.

These people were born as slaves, coming back from a long line of generations. Maybe my father was one. I didn't know, mother never answered any questions I had about him.

Even after the slavery policy worn out, they kept these people, in the name of servants instead. I hardly saw the difference, nor had I ever tried to approach them. You'd think people with similarity to me would treat me like family, but no. They looked at me the same way the white aristocrats do.

In disgust.

A powerful scent greeted my nose, taking my mind off the reality whether I truly fitted in which class; sweet juice drizzled over a fresh pink, broiled mutton chop, and dripped like small waterfalls to the platter. By the corners were fried potatoes sliced into long pieces, perfectly gold and organized in place.

"Enjoy the meal," Josephine said. I thanked her again, then did my best to hold myself from gobbling all the food down. Staying up for many nights--and squeezing my brain for writing-- must have driven me hungry.

I felt the sweet, hot sauce dancing in my mouth. My teeth chewed on soft meat, and swallowing them was a satisfaction. Maybe I should opt to write about food later.

Mother rarely cooked, Arthur did most of those. And Arthur was a busy man, having to clean the mansion, wash the clothes, feed Rosie, and wrap his head around taxes as well. Most of his food wasn't as complete as these. I didn't complain, of course.

I missed mother's cooking, they tasted better than anything. But after she fell, she preferred not to move about too much. I didn't like the kitchen either, there were simply too many shadows.

"My parents," she muttered out of nowhere, poking her food with a fork. Her eyes were pointedly on the servants, as if they were a threat. "They're coming to join us later. I feel like I should tell you that, my lord."

I was glad she told me so. I could prepare myself for real acting.

Hey, guys! This chapter is actually quite short compared to the previous two. I've added some tiny magical elements, and I browsed for 1900s breakfast menu for the food.

What do you think about Josephine? How do you think Emerett will react to her parents later? What are they up to? Feel free to give me feedback, and please vote if you like it, thanks for reading!