Too Pensive to Notice

Chapter One

Spain, January 1816

"She has what?" Andrew asked in a dazed voice while circulating the whisky in the cup he was holding.

"She has escaped my lord," Jefferson, his valet, said.
"What makes you so certain that she has escaped and not been kidnapped?'' Andrew queried with a voice that could only be made calm in such a situation by the excessive use of spirits.

"Some villagers claim they have seen her packed and headed to the outer road in the middle of the night."
"Why have they kept this information hidden for the past two nights then huh? Get out, just get out." Andrew yelled at his valet, his anger finally settling in and replacing the giddy attitude he had had for the past two days.
Why has she done this? Why now? He knew their marriage was not one of the best, not from the lack of trying on his side, but why did she have to pack and leave like this?
Andrew let his head fall on his desk with a loud thud and started reminiscing.

All the way back to the day they met and how she stood out between all those English and Spanish ladies that were in that book fair; with her raven, long, cascading hair and her dark green eyes. She was an image of beauty and he knew he had fallen in love that very minute. He can now admit that he was rather shallow for having pursued her only because of her looks. He knew nothing of her, her family, her Spanish heritage, not even if she was a lady of the higher classes or not. He only knew of his desire for her, and having never been denied anything in his life, he went after the exotic beauty.

Two months later he found himself married and on his way to Spain. She could not live anywhere else, she explained and since he was besotted, foolish and wealthy, he came to Spain with her. He thought his would be a heavenly marriage; one that would surely only end in the death of one of them. Oh how wrong he was.
His last thought before drifting into a numbing sleep was that he had to go search for her, bring her back and then try to fix things.

****

London, July 1816

It was three in the morning and Ophelia was still staring at the crooked leaves in her ceiling. The artist's hands were certainly not stable while he was drawing that picture, she thought to herself. She tried once more to force herself to sleep since she didn't want to look terrible at her best friend's wedding. She was overjoyed that Prudence was getting married the next day to someone that she actually loved, even if she had not realized it yet, Ophelia could see it in her glow. Ophelia wondered how long it would take for Elizabeth to also break their promise of not getting married because of the ton's pressure. Renditia took the lead in breaking the promise by getting engaged three months after it was made and Prudence followed in her steps ten months after that. But she did have to admit that both her friends had found bliss with their husband and husband-to-be. She should be glad about it and should forget that old, foolish promise that they all made especially under such perfect circumstances.
What she couldn't forgo was that she was dreadfully lonely. Even though Elizabeth was nowhere near getting married, but it was not because of the lack of suitors. Elizabeth was an epitome of beauty; she had dark brown hair that glistened in the sun and light blue eyes that mirrored the sky. The mixture of her dark yet fair complexion made her very attractive, that in addition to her wits of course. Ophelia had been through many recitations praising her friend's beauty that she could no longer count the number of poems written, nor the number of suitors for that matter.
She, on the other hand, had curly auburn hair, which was described as too curly, her eyes too dark and too big and her body too burly. A "too" had always preceded her description. And so she was not a diamond of the first water nor was she cast out, all thanks to her father being Viscount Tisdale and her mother the daughter of an Earl.