"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...
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••• "surely there would be no blame
if i do not take his name.
i'll have his heart,
but i'll not be his bride." •••
August, 1813
Henry watched heartbroken, seeing Sevyn eagerly pack her luggage. "Love-" she shot him a warning look, already having explained the situation. "Sev, I do not know what to say."
"Then do not say anything." The girl snapped, pulling her pile of combs off the dresser. "Daphne has allowed me to pay her a visit." She sighed, finally catching the mans eye. "I shall be off to Clyvedon and then I hope to find Siena's whereabouts."
"How far do you plan on going?" The man scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He loves you," he spat, "at least talk to him."
She collapsed on the bed, resting her forehead in the palm of her hands. "I can not talk to him." She sighed, seeing the man become more frustrated. "Benedict had the potential to find better-"
"Yet, he seems to have chosen you anyways..." he plopped down next to her, taking her hand in his. "Sev," she let out a long grown, "let me speak." She nodded to him, pressing him to continue. "Love chooses you. It is not simply something you can push away. At least, not easily."
The girls eyes narrowed in confusion, "what do you mean?"
"You love him, Sevyn." She stood to her feet, turning her back to him, continuing to pack her belongings. "I know you. Your relationship with Mr. Bridgerton is way stronger than any infatuation you have ever chased."
She knew he was right, but she still could not stay. She could not be a wife. Especially to someone who held so much respect in the eyes of society- she did not want to tarnish his reputation. He was a gentleman, in his own way.
Surely, she had been defiled. She no longer would be looked at with anything, but scowls, if the Ton had figured out her impure relationship with the second eldest Bridgerton. "I must go." Before vanishing out the door, Henry grabbed her wrist.
"At least write me when you reach Clyvedon." He begged the girl. "Let me know you are safe." She hastily agreed, exiting to the street and beginning to load her bags into the coach.
Ignoring the pair of eyes she felt burning onto her, she made her way into the transport, and was off before the mans eyes.
