Cimmerian Sunrise

Chapter 2 - ***REVISED***

Enduring Torrington's funeral was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. Her mother kept her close by, and ushered her out of the building as soon as the service was over. That was only thing she was grateful for.

Even though it might have been her duty to speak with his family, she really had no wish to talk to anyone. Torrington had rarely spoken of his family, and most of those he spoke of with fondness were dead and gone: the father who'd brought him to England when he was small; the aunt and uncle who he'd lived with an who had been second parents to him once his own father was gone; the mother at first left behind in Scotland and then moved to far off Australia after her father died there; the grandfather who was shipped to an Australian penal colony...Adam had been a little boy then and never even knew what it was his grandfather had done...what was so terrible that it ripped his small world forever into two halves. This was all she knew of his family, really - those who were buried, those who were long gone and far away. Any who might be here so soon after his death, she could only surmise, hadn't cared enough for him, nor he for them, to even be mentioned as they sent out invitations to their wedding. For all their wearing of black and gathering by the graveside, she wasn't intent on concerning herself with their grief; she was already cocooned within her own. They were strangers to her and always would be. The frightening man who delivered the news of Torrington's death stood among those close to the casket. Just the sight of him brought the pain and terror of that night crashing down upon her all over again. If this man was some part of the family Torrington never made mention of, it only served to strengthen her desire never to set eyes on him again.

Frankly, Breanne only wanted to seek refuge in her room, and thanks to her mother's direction, she was obliged to give in to the selfish desire.

In all honesty, she was tired of the sympathetic glances of her neighbors, the poorly-concealed whispered utterances, and even the slightly gleeful faces of some that had never approved of her marriage to begin with. It was all very simple really...Torrington was too good for her. A simple miss, such as she, had the audacity to snag one of them, a highly sought-after member of the ton. The whispers behind fans and glances she could stomach; but the bit of happiness that came from some of the elite made her want to scream. They were more satisfied that she was no longer married, than saddened that a member of the ton, one of their own, a true gentleman, was gone...dead...deceased. She placed a mental lid on her anger and continued to wear a seemingly complacent mask.

Really, though, she was no longer a 'miss,' she was a viscountess. The title mattered not to her. If she could trade the title for one more day with Torrington, she would. She would do anything to have him standing before her, to see him smiling down at her, or making some jest, as he tended to do.

"Breanne, control yourself!"

 Breanne snapped out of her reverie and quickly looked up. "Mother?"

"I can see your eyes misting, Breanne. We are at a party, try to enjoy yourself."

Breanne turned her head away from her mother and stared straight ahead, her nose slightly flaring in aggravation.

"You know how I feel about these sentimental things to begin with, Breanne. You are not to show feelings like this, and doing so only makes the people in the vicinity uncomfortable. They are not even able to enjoy the party. Look around you," she snapped.

Breanne hesitantly followed her mother's command and saw that people were, in fact, making a very poor effort at not looking at her. And yet, it wasn't astounding that she was drawing attention to herself. I am supposed to be hiding away, she thought, mourning Adam. I'm not even supposed to be here. Yet, here I am, following my mother's dictates and dishonoring my husband's memory. Breanne bowed her head in shame.