"you have no idea what it is like to be in a room with someone you cannot live without, and yet still feel as though you are oceans apart."
Sevyn was born in the slums of England, beginning to dance at age two, she was discovered by Henry Granville...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
••• "they could slander your name,
they could brand you with shame,
but still your heart be pure,
there would be no blame." •••
June, 1813
Benedict could not lie to himself. The way Anthony held Sevyn did make him hurt. He could not watch his brother caress the girl, so he simply made his way out to the swings to talk with Eloise.
Seeing the smoke surround her figure, he extended his hand, having her pass him the cigarette, before exhaling the puff of smoke. "I found bit of you sketchbook in the fireplace." She confronted.
"Are you spying on me now?" The girl released a throaty chuckle.
"You'd actually have to be interesting for me to bother spying on you." She teased, giving him a wide grin.
"The drawings in that sketchbook were abominable," Benedict critiqued, "I could not stand to look at them." He continued.
"I believe that is why they call it a sketchbook." Eloise pondered, stating blankly into the night sky. "I write in my diary, which is not the same as writing in my novel." She reasoned, taking a drag from the cigarette. "It must be very difficult to want something-" she laughed, "and not be able to get it-"
"Eloise..." Benedict interrupted.
"If you enjoy drawing but need practice, then practice." She huffed. "Hire a drawing master." She began to give reasons, "find a young lady to act impressed, like my dearest friend, who you were gawking at in the house." Benedict felt his heartbeat halt, "if you desire the sun and the moon, all you have to do is go out and shoot at the sky." She sighed. "Some of us cannot."
Benedict sat back against the rope, knowing her tangent was far from over. "Look no further than Lady Whistledown." She explained. "She possesses a huge talent for writing, and yet she must hide away and publish under a false name."
Benedict quickly pushed back, "Yes, because if anyone knew who Whistledown truly was, she'd be strung up for what she said."
"That is not my point." Eloise retaliated. "Whistledown is a woman, therefore she has nothing, and still she writes." She spat. "You're a man, therefore you have everything, you are able to do whatever you want. So do it. Be bold." She extended her hand to retrieve the cigarette. "At least that way I can live vicariously through you." She puffed.
"Eloise..." Benedict pondered, "are you Lady Whistledown?" She only chuckled dramatically, "you're an accomplished writer, always scribbling in that diary of yours," He continued, "and you certainly know everyone's business. You have more opinions than anyone else I know in London..." all reasonable ideals that he believed the masked writer would characterize, "you would have my full support and admiration either way, sister." He clarified. "So... is it you?"
"No." She blankly responded, "Though if it were... do you honestly think that'd I'd admit it?" She turned away from her brother, before uttering a last, "Sevyn is too good for either of you." And returning to the house to save her friend from the clutches of her brother.
Yet, the Granville girl had already made her way through the garden, just watching the man stare off into space. "Anthony's a scoundrel." The man sneered, turning his head in the direction of the crunched tree branch. "You do not need to hide." He stood from the swing, seeing her figure passed the stump. "Why did you come out here?"
"I had to see you." She simply stated, finally revealing herself in the moonlight. A breathtaking sight. "I do not like seeing people in distraught." He looked at her, pressing her to continue. "I am convinced your mother is under the impression that I am to marry your brother."
The older man huffed, wishing at this moment that Eloise had not stomped out the cigarette. "Of course, she is." He met her gaze. "And you?"
"What of me?" Sevyn questioned, moving to sit on the swing adjacent to him.
"What do you think?" He was genuinely curious- questioning if he would ever attempt to swipe the girl from underneath his brother, which he honestly did not think would be a problem. "How does all of this make you feel?"
"To be honest..." she sighed, looking straight into the mans eyes, "I am quite annoyed with Anthony."
"Fair." The man laughed, "is this not what you wanted?" He asked, seeking amusement.
"Would I have kissed you if this was what I trulywanted?" He sticks his hands up in surrender.
"Touché." He laughed, suddenly pausing. "Do you regret it?" He knew she had not read his letter. She probably would have been asking more questions.
"No." She looked to him, "Not at all." He could not contain the smirk that grew on his face, sitting back in his spot on the swings. He let out a sigh of relief. "But I seemed to find myself in the most unfortunate situation with the Viscount."
"What even happened?"
"He kissed me..." she sighed, "and now I seem to be stuck."
"Stuck?" He questioned, "I am sure you are fine."
"The Lot knows." She confirmed, "I have been defiled in the eyes of the public."
"But you don't seem to care." He caught on, looking at her with pure amusement. "You really do not care what others say about you?"
"How have I never met you before, Benedict?" She asked. "I have known Anthony, Colin, Daphne and Eloise for years. Even, babysitting your youngest siblings. Benedict," she breathed, "How have we never crossed paths?"
He merely shrugged, "I never liked meeting new people." He explained, "it was nothing against you. I just preferred to be by myself."
"How did that work with seven other siblings?"
He laughed at the question, "it was not easy at all." He looked at her smile and the glow of the moonlight on her long brown hair, "Sevyn..." he got her attention, once again.
