𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 that some bonds are as inevitable as the tides, drawing one and one together despite the constraints that bind them away from each other. Some cannot be escaped, others do not want to escape. But then th...
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୨⎯ ༻♛༺ ⎯୧
GENTLE READER, it is said that fools rush to judge while the wise watch and wait. Years ago, Miss Henderson, once thought to be on the shelf, triumphed over many a deb to marry Earl Fraser. Miss Dunham had been doomed to spinsterhood until she married Baron Ely. And Miss Kathani Sharma, at the ripe age of six-and-twenty, still managed to capture the heart of none other than the Viscount Bridgerton. The truth is... that which some dismiss as common rock, time reveals to be precious stone. A fact the new Baron of Kent and his family are learning this very week.
Siena flips the pamphlet over, pulling some curls off her face with her gloved fingers as her other arm remains looped with the companion to her right side.
At other times, what appeared to be priceless, under pressure, shatters like glass. What this author knows to be true is that diamonds are not the only gems that sparkle.
"Hm." The girl folds the paper and digs it into her bag carelessly, smacking her lips and looking back ahead without any commentary. Her very lack of words makes Mr. Ainsworth quirk his head to the side with a quizzical smirk.
"Did you just hum?"
She looks at him, shrugging her shoulders, "I did." She states simply, eyes squinted under the scorching sunlight.
There is a small pause as they continue promenading through the gardens, offering kind smiles to the other strolling members of the ton and bowing at the ladies that bat their eyelashes at him. But he is more focused on how odd his friend acts, not paying much mind to the colorful eyes that glance at him.
When he turns back to her, Mr. Ainsworth chuckles in mild disbelief, one eyebrow quirking upward, "Are you not going to babble on about what she's said? Are you feeling ill?"
The girl rolls her eyes, waving off his comment, "You should know I do not care for Lady Whistledown anymore, Augustus," she raises her eyebrows at him, "I have read so very much this summer, now I compare her to my books and she is... mediocre."
The man huffs, "Am I truly speaking to Siena DeLuca or have you shipped her off somewhere and taken her place? Who are you?"
"It mustn't be that surprising, really. When you discover the intricacies in novels and poetry and literature and fantasy, everything else becomes mere nothingness," she nods confidently, "You gifted me one of my most treasured reads, you know what I am talking about."
"Well, yes. I am glad I scored the jackpot so greatly with them. I also hope they have... helped," he adds warily, glancing at her, "In unraveling your own turmoils, that is."
