"I am sorry," she said under her breath. "I mistook you for someone else." And then she began to turn away and Adrien found himself jumping to his feet to go after her. He managed to grab her arm before she reached the door and whirled her around to face him. The brandy had made the adventurous side of him come out, the one that wanted the thrill. And her skin, God, the mere touch of her skin in his hand made all thoughts of logic fly out the window. She was not wearing gloves and he freely slid his hand down to wrap around her wrist. "Who did you think I was?" he asked above her. She turned her head to the side. He could not see her face in the darkness but he saw a hint of long, thick lashes. "No one. Please, my lord, release my arm. I ought to go." Adrien shook his head. "Oh, no, my lady, you are not going anywhere." She stiffened. "Let me go, please." Adrien bent his head down and took a lungful of her scent. His groin suddenly jerked to life. He wanted more. Ah, bloody hell. He wanted this woman. "You came for your lover, didn't you?" "No," she denied. And after a short pause she added, "I meant to turn one into one." Adrien chuckled. "And you were disappointed that you found me instead?" She shook her head and caught herself. She nodded. "Yes. Greatly so." "Liar," he whispered, leaning lower so his nose touched her ear. He slid his hand up to her upper arm once more, reveling at its silky smoothness. "Would you change your mind and reconsider your choice?" He heard her gulp. "No. I only planned on taking one lover, thank you." "But I am a willing victim, my lady," he urged, craning his neck to search for her lips. She stepped back and he followed until she was pressed hard on the door with nowhere to run. She had walked intending to trap someone and now she found herself trapped. He really ought to teach these ladies some lessons, he thought. "Nowhere to run," he teased. She tried to pull away from him but he held her fast by her waist. Her hands went to his arms and pushed but he was bigger and stronger. "Just one kiss. You might like it," he whispered, nuzzling her nose with his. "No. This is a mistake and-" Adrien did not let her finish for he had grown impatient. His mouth captured hers and swallowed the gasp of surprise that escaped her lips. She tried to push him away once more but he pressed her harder against him, his mouth urging hers to surrender, to give in and enjoy this little adventure.
Chapter 1 1
I. Thy Will Be Done
In a land not so far away, there lived a place that lived in the past.
The people there simply called it the Town because its founders never came up with a proper name. They were too much consumed with haste to build it and set the rules in motion. In every convention, in every meeting, they simply referred to it as The Town and it stuck up to this day.
Their rules were their law. And the people of The Town took their law quite seriously. If one would inspect them, they weren't even complicated at all. They were basic laws against crime one could easily find in any other towns.
But what sets The Town aside from the rest?
They refuse the use of anything more advanced than electricity in any way whatsoever and the children of the Town grew up knowing what other towns would call ancient or basic.
Oh, yes, they know about the other towns. They had heard stories. They believed the other towns owned carriages that didn't require a horse at all. They could talk and see one another even when the other person was not in the same vicinity as them. They could do things with the 'tip of their fingers' as what the teachers in the schools of the Town would say. The children thought it was magic.
The adults, on the other hand, saw it as threat. The leaders battled against each other whether or not to form alliances with the other towns, but they would always go back to what the founders believed: the Town was indestructible. In a sense, it was true.
The Town was not really a town. The other towns outside considered it a country, and a very strong one at that. And it spanned almost half of the entire continent in the west. The very few people who knew of the Town's existence would not dare distract the Town. No one dared think of invading it either. Its very presence was a threat to almost all other towns outside because they stood on it.
The Town was their very foundation, built deep underground with its own cities and streets and buildings. They destroy the Town, they fall with it. And everyone left them alone untouched, peaceful as ever, forever living the history that had long been forgotten by the other towns, unknown to the commoners aboveground and alien to the very few powerful who had knowledge of their existence.
The streets of the Town were made of stones, fitted perfectly for carriages to drive by and people to walk on. The houses, though with enough electricity to give light, were always on the side of dim. Businesses thrived. Livestock were kept on the other side of town as well as the farms with their own holes to provide sun to their crops. As a matter of fact, everything from irrigation to waste disposals had been thoroughly planned from the start by the founders themselves. The Town could stand on its own without help from the outside.
The people of the Town were generally content and happy with their lives. It was, after all, the only life they had known. But if there was one thing they would have liked to experience more, it was the sun. Yes, they knew of the sun. They could experience it from time to time and bask in its goodness in the many parks their founders had built. Such parks were built with perfect holes hundreds of feet above the ground, giving them natural light and ventilation. These holes were the only access to the other towns and they were surrounded by tall walls shaped like a funnel so no one from the outside could climb on them and see the Town below. And if ever one could manage to climb to the top, sliding down would be easy though the fall might lead to a sudden death. Climbing out, on the other hand, was impossible. Or everyone believed that to be so.
There were hundreds of such walls and only once had it been trespassed. That was almost a century ago and it never happened again. What became of the trespasser was never disclosed to the public though ideas that ranged from possible to insane circulated that the story soon became a myth and the trespasser was named Mr. Jones. Some stories said that Mr. Jones survived and married a woman from a higher class. Others said he was taken prisoner until he died. There was one that said Mr. Jones was amongst the first founders of the Town.
But Mr. Jones was not the topic to be discussed for one man in particular had made his own legacy in the Town. And he left all of it to none but his one daughter...
*****
I, Ernest Featherton, being of sound mind, write this last will and testament.
I have endured the difficult life I was born to and climbed to the pinnacle of success with only a few notes in my pocket. I should say that I have lived a full life and made more money than I could have imagined. I have married and lost my dear wife, but I was left with the most loving and generous daughter.
My only regret is that I had not thought of the consequences when I chose to never wed again. Mary will have to deal with those consequences, but I am confident that she could face them with a strong heart. She may not know it yet but she is very much like her mother-she is strong and capable.
Therefore I declare that my entire fortune, the houses of Mary and Angel and the coming income that comes with them, be granted to my daughter, Mary Angel Featherton, immediately after my passing. I grant her total control over the Mary House and the Angel House.
Furthermore, if Mary were to wed, her husband will receive nothing but a dowry of ten-thousand townsends. I repeat-nothing but the dowry. I have not worked my arse off to hand over my legacy to some unknown gentleman who could very well be a conniving thief and bastard-in words and actions.
In addition, if Mary sees it fit, she may choose to sell or offer any or all of her fortune to someone if the need arises, which I dearly hope does not come to chance.
In the event that something happens to Mary, and in this case an unfortunate demise, and she leaves no will and testament, the entirety of my fortune shall be passed on to the charity of my choosing.
Mary, dear, may you choose someone to wed as soon as you can and the bastard needs to consent that he will not get anything but the dowry I had set for you. The reason being for my insistence of marriage is that you will have a hound of thieves and greedy bastards from my side of the family who will find great disappointment in this last will and testament.
Choose well, my daughter, and continue my legacy.
I love you, Mary.
Signed,
Ernest Featherton
Witnesses,
Thomas Avery, Bonnie Blake
Solicitors, Avery-Blake Firm
Mary Featherton stared blankly in the air. A fortnight had passed since Thomas Avery and Bonnie Blake read her the last will and testament her father had penned before his passing. By then, it had only been a week since she had stood in her father's burning ritual, clad in black and utter numbness.
And now she was desperate. Her father did not know what he was doing when he left her everything.
He could have left them a measly sum, she thought. But no, Ernest Featherton gave naught to his cousin, Barty Featherton.
Wrong move, papa, wrong move, Mary said in her mind. The pain and loss she could deal with, but the fear that rose due to her father's will nearly pushed her to run away to save her life.
Mary stood and walked to her closet. She stood before the boring old dresses and for a moment hoped that Cressida was there to help her.
The thought that she was utterly alone with no one to help her scared her. She could go after Cressida and live a different life up there.
Choose well, my daughter, and continue my legacy.
Her father's last request rang in her mind. She could never, for the life of her, let his legacy die or passed on to Barty Featherton and his good for nothing son, Collin.
Mary squared her shoulders.
I am the lady who stayed. I shall keep my place in this dratted world or die trying.
She chose a black dress. She was barely out of mourning but desperation called for desperate actions.
She had acquired an invitation to the Macy ball and she would go alone.
She needed not a chaperone but a husband. Fast. And so she dressed and prepared for the ball for Mary Featherton was out to hunt a husband. Fast.
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