Reunion part 2
The man from the ballroom strolled beside me through their eternal garden of roses and lilies. They came to a stop in front of the fountain situated at the centre of the garden. And he placed a handkerchief upon which she could take her seat.
"It's been a while since I have been here," he said. She looked at him, and he gazed as if looking back at the memory that he could only imagine. And she stared inquisitively at him, trying to remember if she had seen him at least once. She was sure she would have never missed his face if she encountered it. The heat radiating from him warmed her up. However, she still felt the chill at the base of her toes when the wind swept under her dress.
"So, why are you sulking away by yourself and not dancing with the rest of the socialites celebrating what I suppose is your day?" he asked, turning to face her with an inscrutable expression.
Maeve blinked a few times as she turned her stare away from him. She'd hoped he hadn't noticed that she had stared quite too long at the way his chiselled jaw clenched and unclenched as he spoke. She had been listening to the soft undertone of his voice, causing the reverberance with her. She felt as though she could almost melt at the sound of his voice. It was no wonder the crowd refused to leave his side after he came in this evening. She could feel herself being swept away. Just who was he? She wondered curiously.
"Are my words that boring, that you have spaced out of your mind while I was talking? " He asked, and her face flushed in surprise at his statement. Her eyes widened in embarrassment cause she couldn't explain her reason for spacing out. His words from earlier only then came to her and then a sudden deep realisation that made her furrow her eyebrows at him in confusion.
"You knew this party was hosted for me? " She asked, placing her palm on her chest as she spoke. Hardly anyone made an effort to congratulate her all evening while she was inside the ballroom; their attention had been swayed after her loving older sister, Cecilia. anyone who walked in now would think this party was done all for her. A bitter sensation engulfed her tongue at the thought.
He looked confused by her statement. "You are the second daughter of Henry Donahue? and this should be in celebration of your seventeenth birthday"
"Of course I am and yes, it is," she replied, an ominous feeling coming to her. He knew her father. She concluded to herself. She retreated, as she had pulled her hands back to herself. As she became fully aware, he could be one of her dad's business associates she had gotten entangled with. She was glad it was only a few people who saw them come this way. A scandal might arise from this. She cursed internally why she had blindly walked with him here. His charm and charismatic air had swayed her.
He noticed her withdrawal from the instance he had mentioned her father, "I am not a friend of his I assure you or a business associate trying to find favour with one of his daughters" he spoke as though reading it off directly from her thoughts.
"Then why insist on following me here? "Her distance dwindled further away from him. As she wanted as much distance away from him as possible.
"I thought it would have been lonely to take this pleasant stroll alone, that is all," he said simply. Then added in an offhand tone, "You're welcome to leave if you feel that uncomfortable." his hands popped into his breast pocket to retrieve his smoke. He lit the stick and puffed it in the air. Noticing she still hadn't left, instead watched him intently with a focused and cautious gaze.
"If anyone is meant to leave, it should be you who followed me here," she said sternly, her voice low and husky, with a hint of warning. Her eyes narrowed, piercing through the foreshadowed garden, as she gazed at him.
"I don't intend to leave anytime soon, my lady," he replied, his deep voice unwavering, his locked unto to hers. His direct response took her aback, her breath catching slightly in her throat.
"you are quite arrogant for a gentleman," she declared, her palm folding across her chest, the soft rustle of her silver dress echoing through the silence. The folds of her gown seemed to shimmer in the faint candlelight, like moonlit waves.
"And you are quite fierce for a young lady.," He retorted, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice, his eyes crinkling in the corner.
She made no more steps to walk away. Her slender heels rooted to the spot, her shoulders squared in defiance. "I'll stay because I want to," she concluded, her words dripping with determination. She took her seat.
A brief silence ensued between them, heavy with tension. She buried her eyes in the intricate embroidery of her silver dress; the threads glinting like tiny stars in the candlelight. The air was thick with unspoken words. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the garden.
"So, you haven't answered me?" his deep voice carrying across the garden. "Why seclude yourself from the world? And not take the chance to engage. Your sister is certainly not holding back." His eyes narrowed, scrutinising her.
The mention of Cecilia brought back the feeling of annoyance, like a simmering ember, buried within her. Her face turned sour, her lips pursing, as the memory flashed across her mind.
"Unpleasant bond with siblings?" he assumed. His voice was laced with amusement, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His statement seemed to strike a nerve, her eyes flashing with irritation, like a spark of electricity.
"I rather not talk about my family matters with you," she replied, her tone icy, her words clipped. Her gaze dropped, her eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks. He gazed at her for a moment, the silence between them thick and heavy, like a physical presence.
"I apologise if I overstepped. Family can be quite..... complicated," he paused, his eyes crinkling at the corner.
"You're quite... reserved, aren't you?" he observed, his voice dripping with polite interest.
Her eyes narrowed, sensing the subtle dig beneath his words. "What makes you say that?" she asked, her tone cautious.
"I've noticed you often prioritize caution over ambition," he replied, his gaze piercing. "Your sister, on the other hand, seems to thrive in the spotlight. Tell me, what drives you to play it safe? "
His words were a velvet-wrapped challenge, designed to provoke. She felt a spark of irritation, but his expression remained innocently curious.
"I suppose I prefer to think things through," she replied, her voice measured. Maeve was on edge.
He chuckled, low and smooth. " How... shrewd of you. However, I've found that sometimes, the greatest rewards lie just beyond the boundaries of caution."
As he spoke, his eyes seemed to gleam with a knowing light, as if he could see right through her reserve. She felt a shiver run down her spine, unsure whether she was drawn to or repelled by his cunning nature.
Her eyes flashed, anger simmering. "Keep your nose out of my business, " She spat, her voice low and venomous.
His smile was enigmatic, his lips curling upward like a widespread promise. "I'm merely observing. You seem...stifled," he said, his voice dripping with a subtle challenge, the soft cadence sending shivers down her spine.
"How dare you!" she exclaimed, her voice raising to a crescendo. Some guests who had walked in noticed them. "You know nothing about me? What I've been through, what I've been put through. You know nothing!" her voice seemed to tremble with every outburst.
The air thickened with tension as his expression remained unruffled. "I only said what I saw. You could have denied them, but all you did was burst out in a fit of rage. You lost the game when you succumbed to your feelings." His words cut deep, exposing her emotional vulnerability.
Her anger boiled over, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. But then, like the stormy sea subsiding, her expression changed. Realisation dawned, and her face smoothed into a mask of calm.
"You did everything on purpose," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible over the music.
The orchestra's melancholy melody seemed to swell around them, echoing the turmoil within her.
His gaze never wavered. "The music is calling, shall we? " he asked, his voice low and persuasive, the sudden change in topic catching her off guard.
Her response was unexpected. "I would like a dance with you," she said, her voice husky, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
His eyebrows rose, his expression puzzled. But curiosity got the better of him. "Shall we? " she said to him
He tossed the lit cigar right after quenching its little flame. And offered his palm for her to take. "I believe that's what I'm supposed to say. "