"I need your help." The Count said, "Take her there and back, I know I can trust you to keep her safe. Whatever you do not let her know."
Castiel looked at the Count who stood before with trembling hands.
I want you to understand that this story is written against my wish, that the very genre of this piece is something even I am not comfortable with. I said I would push my bounds and go beyond to the place which seems to shadow what I love. I am not a contemporary romance writer just another lover of romance who prefers everything to be at least three centuries old.
I will first say that this is my work, do not duplicate or try to alter in any way. Second I am not an award-winning author just a girl who loves to right. If you wish to know more about me check my bio for info.
This is a modern day romance. A story retold.
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Many times you find when you enlist someone to complete a specific task you hope and pray for them to do it right. To follow the simple details you have set aside of them in the first place. If you so happen to be an old Count when does not go by the title anymore. You demand the expected respect from the people around you who know your position.
Any day was a good day it is just the insubordination of the people you are surrounded by that makes a day. Rather your day awful. The gall of them to not understand the concept of time itself and how important it is for one to be on top of it at all times.
" Putain imbecile." He was late already by the looks of it not very much. He was a punctual man that was the very reason The Count had called on him. The Count needed a man who was reliable, a man of his word everything Cas had proven himself to be. If he did not show up within the hour. The old man would be left no choice but to swallow his pride and admit his defeat to his dear Lydia.
Now, Lydia, he smiled lost in his own world he had promised her mother to be a loving, supportive father, to allow her to grow into becoming the woman she is today. But a father never changes his role remains the same. You can understand the turmoil he felt when he heard her say that she wanted to go out on her own. Back home to explore and discover the life they had left behind to come to America. He had never thought in this lifetime she would dream of leaving the safe bubble he had created for her over the years, not to rush off into the unknown with a dated map and a cellphone.
'I want to live Papa, see the world, explore everything new. I promise to be safe. To keep safe and to come back home soon. I need to see and meet the other sides of the family. I want to know my roots.' Lydia cheered as she swirled with a large grin on her face. He could not stop her even if he wanted too. She was twenty-two fresh out of college, prepared to take her place in the family firm when she returned. With Cass guiding her along the way she was sure to blossom into the businesswoman he knew she could be.
Determined that this trip would be over soon, honestly, he could not risk for anything to happen to her, his heir. This is why all the precautions had to do. Cass was the best precaution a man could have he was the only one a man would need. The Count would be damned if he left Lydia to wonder out all alone. No hotels, no chauffeurs, first class nor sweet temperament would save her. Not in Coube, Limousin. No, they didn't. Not a place for children or unsuspecting women. Not a place for his daughter to visit.
"Papa." The soft rhythmic sound of knocking resounded through his study. She must have come to come to tell him goodbye. Wait in anticipation of his farewell. He wished for her too but she did not stand a chance on her own. The Count held the bridge of his nose for the support he needed it if he was to watch her leave. He wished everything were different. That he was still young and filled with life, that his sweet Marie was alive, maybe she was able to speak sense into the matter. Even better than that his daughter changed her mind. Not her slouching against the doorframe looking at him in melancholy.
He had no use for her pity. Just her safety there and back. Since she insists on going to that wretched place. The bags in the hall was the very proof of that. When did her generation develop such an interest in understanding where one came from. Was the fact that from the womb not a good enough answer anymore. Why the sudden need to feel a connection with one's past necessary? No one in his family ever made it because of ancestry connections. Oh, no they made it with blood, sweat, and tears whether or not they were his it did not matter. As long as they were shed for him.
He never depended on anyone, not until now. He hopes he won't regret it.
"Papa, are you alright. You look quite pale. Are you ill?" Lydia rushed to him looking him over with grave accuracy. No, he was not sick, not yet. He had at least twenty-eight minutes and 30 seconds before she planned on leaving. There she went tendering and caring the very best parts of his Marie in her. He was proud she had turned out nothing like him. He was a man no one should emulate.
Why should anyone when God has forsaken him in his time of need leaving his poor harmless daughter alone to the wolves? He had done many cruelties in his life but to amount to this he was not prepared.
"Papa let me get you some tea and scones. Cherry like you like them." Lydia smiled before turning to scurry off to do as she promised. She was always a woman of her word. If she said she would then she shall.
With her easy disposition, she would not last a moment on her own.
The Count moved to his desk once more he had to get to the phone. Who knew if he did not show he would have to feign illness to stop her. He listened as the line rang, and rang before coming to a stop. Happy and enraged to be answered he moved his mouth to speak. To be best by his secretary who spoke of his absence from the office.
" Mr. Malone is not in the office, Sir. Would you like to leave a message? I will inform him to contact you directly, Sir."
"Thank you, Meriel. Tell him it is important to contact me straight away."
The Count hung up at the sound of his daughter's voice. " Papa do not exert yourself so. Please sit and take a rest. I do not want to leave knowing you are unwell. I can not travel if you are not well. I would not be able to enjoy it without worrying over you." Lydia looked him over. "You seemed quite well this morning."
If he had known how easily he could manipulate her very action he would have considered falling sick earlier. His sweet Marie must be looking down on him now in judgment. This very act caused a pang of guilt rippled through him.
