Ornate fan clutched in one hand Eleanor made her way into the hall, head held high and dressed rather invitingly for an evening with the high brows from all of London.
The lack of a hoop skirt on her, made her violent dress hug her all in the right places, attracting the gaze of every red-blooded man in the ball - and their envious dates.
Their intense gazes burning with lust and loath did not faze Elenor one bit for her thoughts had been occupied all day by something else entirely.
Eleanor took long purposeful strides in full view of the curious tons. She hadn't been one for lingering in the shadows, and today would be no different.
Though she didn't know anyone at the ball she was completely content keeping herself company, even getting herself a drink from a utterly shocked server passing by.
Though the hosts had not invited or known Eleanor, they dared stop her from entering, something about the air she carried herself with was enough to earn their welcome.
She turned around to see curious gazes on her, but payed no heed. Taking in her surroundings she waited.
It wasn't long until her eyes found him in the ball. Shoulders just as broad and face chiseled in unmoving smile, he listened as a short plump ginger spoke.
She hadn't missed him the least, but the sight of him sent something off in her, something that tasted suspiciously like nostalgia.
'He was nothing but a vicious traitor' Eleanor told herself, she simply had to make him pay for what he did.
Taking one last look at his sleek self, engaged in chatter, she raised one delicate hand into the air over her head, and before a moment passed shots had began to sound from around.
YOU ARE READING
Roses Red
Historical FictionEleanor was "not a lady" that's one way to put it. Having built London's richest business empire ground up, she thinks she has what it takes to take anything head on - matters both professional and private. It wasn't until young Simon came along, ea...
