The Widow

Chapter Twenty-Five: Arthur's Table

A suitor, Emelie wanted to laugh at Ura's odd suggestion of gaining a lustful man for fun, she even had the greater urge to laugh when Constantine asked for assistance at dinner- not just any dinner, but one that's small and secluded to only a few others; which means she can not hide herself from the possibilities of him actually becoming her mister in the dark.

It took all night to find that right gown and to answer all of Elizabeth and Talia's questions. "How handsome is he?" Elizabeth kept bugging, obviously curious on rather the gentleman is capable enough to marry her daughter-in-law.

"Very handsome mother." Talia chirped while pinching the thin fabric of the dress. "Constantine is a perfect suitor- a gentleman; suave, loves poetry and art, very kept together. Perfect."

Emelie held the urge of rolling her eyes at their enthusiasm. "I am only to help General Constantine, not take him as my husband." Pressing her palms against her sides, she took a deep breath and tried not to gag from the thought of this suave general they're all drooling about. "I must take my leave, the carriage should be here by now."

"Wait, who will be chaperoning?"

"Mother, chaperoning is for young ladies who can't keep their hand to themselves. Emelie is better than those whores-"

"Talia, watch your tongue." The older woman gasped before releasing a soft chuckle. "Very well then, at least let us see you to the door."

Emelie managed to nod her head in agreement, although having escorts to the door only made her anxious. However, it protected her from Dion's curious gaze and jealous questions. They stride downstairs with their heads held high, lips stretched into pleasing smiles, and eyes twinkling in joy. Even the young widow found the anxious feeling turn into excitement as she leave the house to enjoy herself, not because someone of the cause demand of it or she has to appear like a good princess; she's doing it for herself, which is rare during everything.

Constantine was waiting by the opened door, dressed in his military gown, metals of honor and rank hanging from his chest, hat under his left arm while his polished sword hung steady in his the right side of his hip. He look dashing under the women gazes, Emelie would be a fool to not take notice of his good looks and charming smile; unfortunately she could not hold the same desire as the others. "Princess Emelie." He bowed swiftly, hand out to extend his honor of being in her presence. "Thank you once again for attending the dinner with me."

Emelie took his extended hand to only shiver from his cool lips pressing against her warm flesh. "It is no problem, Constantine, truly. Shall we take our leave?"

The young Persian took in a sharp breath, not because of Emelie's gown or the other two beautiful women who surrounded them. "King Dion." This time he bowed deeply, it seemed longer than a minute when he stood up. "An honor, sir."

She kept her gaze away from the jealous filling man, the dagger in his eyes could be felt slicing her back and tearing her skin apart. Just then, Emelie finally regretted agreeing to leaving and to having Dion think she's remotely interested in him. "Come along, Constantine, we do not want to be late."

*~*~*~*

Indeed they were late, at least the three Dutch men were very early. O'Brien brothers sat around the circular table that became fairly popular and wasn't used for more than vase and pots. They were all thin auburn hair nobles with round bellies, red cheeks under a slightest brush of cold wind, and old. One could only tell them apart from necessary accessories; thin glasses on the top of a similar button nose on the older brother, gold pocket watch hanging from the middle brother's vest pocket, and their little brother's Oxford ring on his middle finger.