okaydokey…. i’m …. strange… and got bored with goddess to the nations… and started this last night… yeah… i know… sorry myth! I will still write more of the goddess to the nations.. but i dunno for how much longer… *sigh* i’m just bored w/ it.. lol…. anywz plze tell me what ya think of this and if you think i should continue it!!

with all the love that I possess,

Alilybit <3

Prologue:

            All my attempts at subterfuge were in vain. All my carefully calculated negotiations for peace were for naught. Nothing I could say or do could build a bridge between my sisters.

While, neither trickery nor deceptive maneuvers would give either of them the upper hand, neither could I bridge the chasm between them. This was war- in the truest, greatest, and fullest extent imaginable. And it was all about a man. A widowed man to be known. For it was common knowledge that Lord Cadwell’s beautiful and gracious wife, Lady Anne Cadwell (She had been my particular friend), had passed away- leaving behind a man-child, newly come into the world.

It is said that for every life made, one most be taken. It is most unfortunate in these circumstances when it is the Mother whose life must be taken. And even more unfortunate (for the sweet lady’s husband) that decorum demands, as in cases similar to this- when a good woman’s man is left behind to mourn most dreadfully for her passing, but most importantly he is left as the sole caretaker for their child- a man raising a child? Tis not done. Thus, when their young one is befit from its mother’s love and care- the man needed, no, must get remarried.

This being the case, my sisters, Jo and Felicity, felt it was their God appointed duty to be available to be the next Lady Cadwell.

Most grievously we could not, that is to say, all three of us could not possibly be on amiable terms with each other-while they were trying to catch the man in question, and I wasn’t on either of their sides. Although neither of them really-truly wanted to be that woman. What woman wanted to have to take care of a child that wasn’t hers? Neither of my sisters-that was for certain-they didn’t much like children. (While I truly did love children, and wouldn’t mind in the least loving and caring for one that wasn’t my own-I just dreaded the thought of marrying a man I didn’t love-and who didn’t love me… which was why I had no interest in marrying Lord Cadwell)

Oh, my sisters weren’t so vain and lofty to believe they were the only ones that he would consider to make his bride, nor did they think they were the only ones vying for his favor. Every eligible woman in Berkshire, England had their sights set on the wealthy grieving widower. He was the chance of the season.

In truth, I pitied him, for he had truly loved (he had adored his wife to fault) his wife and had stayed faithful to her through their short yet happy years together. Oh, I didn’t pity him for his happy years, I was endearingly grateful that God had given them that- I pitied him his impending marriage. For he most certainly did not want to marry again-but was without another alternative. Neither, did I, wish for him to marry again-Anne’s memory was dear and close to me, we had been such great friends, and I felt it beseeched her memory for him to marry again, especially so soon. I also knew that he could never, possibly love again after loving one such as Anne. It just wasn’t right for any woman, to not even have a chance at love. And she wouldn’t by marrying Lord Cadwell. Well I had decided that I, for one, would not be that woman.

Chapter 1

“Miss Weatherbrooks,” Lord Cadwell’s serious tone caught my attention. I blushed, horrified that he had singled me out. Oh well, I won’t make anything of it, I thought to myself. I had frequented his home a lot-to visit Anne, so we had become quite jolly friends. But now that she was deceased, I didn’t go to Hollystone’s Manor very much. Well, in truth, this was my first since the funeral (Anne was buried in the family cemetery). I’d only come to this private party for old time’s sake.

“Lord Cadwell?” I lifted my eyes to meet his somber gray ones.

“I believe I asked you not to call me Lord Cadwell.” He frowned, obviously distracted from whatever he had originally meant to say. “Do not do so again. Oh don’t look at me like that,” He responded to my pleading look. “We’ve been good friends now for such a long time… no one will think anything of it.” He did away with my worries, as though they had no grounding.

“Aye, Mr. John. But if I must call you by your surname, you must call me by mine.” I said, just to please him. I would go back to calling him Lord Cadwell, no matter what he said about no one thinking anything of it. Society would notice, and gossiping tongues would put story, intrigue, and romance, where there was none. He laughed.

“Aye, Sophia.” He mimicked me, his eyes dancing, words and tone, though his leaving off the Miss made it feel much more personal. And dangerous. It’d been two years since his wife’s passing. Two years living with my sisters estranged, my mother hopeful that one of her girls would “marry up” with the wealthy widower. Or at least meet some of us his wealthy friends and marry them. And all of Berkshire disappointed that for two seasons in a row, he’s shown no interest in anyone. It wasn’t done. The first year was forgivable- a year of mourning was allowable but not necessary, for a man that is (a woman must wait a full year, before getting remarried… if remarried at all). But the second season, with still no interest, was a sin.

And now, after inviting me (without my sisters) to this intimate party of friends, he singled me out. And I’d particularly hid myself in the nursery, firstly so I could see his beautiful son, Robert (who was sound asleep), and secondly, to hide from the world and all its troubles. Yes, he’d intentionally sought me ought. He’d gone to great trouble to find me. And he’d found me alone.

Lord Cadwell… John got back to his original purpose, “Now, Sophia,” his voice was once again serious, his eyes which had turned almost green when he’d laughed, was returned to the somber gray. His gaze bore into mine, frightening me to bits. “It’s been two long, terrible years since Anne died, God bless her. I couldn’t have made it these past years without your support.”

“But-I’ve barely seen you! I haven’t done-“

“You prayed,” He cut me off. “And for that I shall be eternally grateful. And besides that you truly cared for Anne, and felt honest sorrow and grief on her passing.” His gaze softened as his gaze continued to bore into mine. Whilst I had been nervous and a bit cold, my gaze also softened, to match his.

“I still pray,” I said mesmerized by his captivating eyes (which were once again green), letting him know in the subtlest way possible, that I cared for him. As a friend, of course.

“I know you do.” His look turned warmer, if that was even possible. “Which is why, Miss Weatherbrooks,” He kneeled before the rocking chair I was stiffly sitting in (only stiffly once he’s said kneeled). “I must in the greatest honor, I humbly ask your hand in marriage.” His word were formal, his body language and gaze was not.  He grasped my hand in his, and lifted me out of the chair, pulling me close to him.

“Your answer woman,” He said impatiently. I took my time in answering.

“You do me the greatest honor imaginable, John, in asking for my hand.” I used his surname, trying to break the news as gently as possible. I did have feelings for him-ones I didn’t understand… but I was doing the best thing for the both of us, by refusing him.

“But you’re saying no.” He finished for me, his eyes begging me to reconsider. “May… May I ask why you’re refusing me?” He asked, very obviously hurt.

“Because I don’t love you!”