Chapter Four

Seeping sunlight on Evan's face woke him up the next morning, it was warm and stung a bit on his freckled cheeks and daint eyelids, but it felt kind of nice nonetheless. He was having a pleasant dream about being tucked up in bed, alone, but the sound of someone playing a beautiful, original piece for piano and the scent of freshly baked banana bread made him want to get up and go downstairs. Somehow, you always know about the background story of your dreams, and somehow, he knew the one playing the piano was his lover. Except he didn't know exactly who he was… He woke up when he was going downstairs, the sunlight blinding him fiercely through the translucent curtains, and the impetuous knocking of some furious maid behind the door of his suite at the Martí Manor violently got him back to his miserable reality.

"Sir Clarke! Wake up! It's half-past eight already! You ought to be in Île Paraíso at ten o'clock for shopping for clothes for tonight's gala!" She shouted with a muffled voice from afar.

Evan was startled at such an announcement and sat up abruptly.

"Y-You may come in!" He exclaimed from his place on the bed.

The door opened, letting in two maids. One was young and small, with tanned skin and dyed cherry red hair that was tied into a small bun below her nape. She was pushing a cart with Evan's breakfast carefully to avoid dropping anything onto the floor. And the other one was taller and certainly older, resembling a gray-haired Nanny McPhee. Something in her witch-like face was warning Evan about the fact that she was probably one of those classic old hags, nosy, morose, and bad-tempered.

"It was about time you woke up, Sir." The older maid blurted out. "Adelyn, please tell Sir Clarke what this breakfast consists of and then proceed to serve him."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Blanchard." The smaller maid nodded and bowed shyly at Evan, making him cringe at the attention. "Good morning, Milord, I hope you have had a pleasant night of rest. Let me explain a bit to you what this breakfast consists of: we have classic black tea that you can accompany with milk if that's of your liking." She began, pointing at a beautiful fine porcelain teapot and a matching pitcher with steamy milk. "A small glass of orange and apricot juice freshly squeezed from the orchard. For food, we offer you a spinach omelet or strawberry crepes if you prefer a sweet alternative. A tropical salad fruit. And freshly baked white bread toasts with cream cheese and our best plum marmalade accompanied by mini croissants of savory dough." She finished her impeccable report with a soft voice.

Evan thought if he'd have to be in her place, memorizing and repeating every single detail and adjective for just a meal, he'd panic and mess up right after saying 'good morning'. Just what kind of superior education did they give to personnel in this country? Not that his personnel back in Derby did badly, but compared to these people, they could be considered quite inadequate…

"Well done, Adelyn." Mrs. Blanchard praised and nodded in approval. "Now, let us leave Sir Clarke alone for him to enjoy his meal. Sir Clarke, please don't take this as a straightforward scolding, but you ought to hurry up if you want to be in Paraíso Mall with the Martís in time, Philippe will be here in fifteen minutes exactly to pick you up." She said with a stern voice.

"My apologies, Mrs. Blanchard. I will make haste and get ready." Evan replied, feeling a bit pressured. Maybe it was just a matter of time until he'd get accustomed to the bustling life of noblemen.

Mrs. Blanchard simply nodded.

"I shall go now. Adelyn, please prepare Sir Clarke a nice bath, it'll spare him some time." She said, then she bowed swiftly and went through the door to exit the suite.

It was only him and Adelyn now. At the moment Mrs. Blanchard left the room, Adelyn began speaking more than just elegant and courtesy words:

"Please forgive Mrs. Blanchard if she sounded too rude, Milord." She said with a quiet yet troubled voice. "She can be scary at times, but I promise you she's not a bad person at all." She excused her. And Evan wasn't able to notice it, but she felt a little nervous at that moment.

"It's okay, I guess I'm simply not used to this kind of life…" Evan sighed.

"I understand you, Milord, it must be really difficult to be a nobleman." Adelyn pursed her pouty lips, not sure of what else to add.

"Oh, I'm not a nobleman, and I beg you, please just call me Evan if we are alone. I'm still not Lady Gabrielle's husband, it wouldn't be appropriate to claim a noble title that's not officially yours yet, I believe." He said as he grabbed the opulent steel-plated knife and fork and nimbly began to cut a piece of crepe.

"That's true, but you're still engaged to her, maybe I can go for Sir Evan?" She giggled, suddenly breaking the tension that Mrs. Blanchard left.

"Sir Evan sounds fine to me." Evan smiled as he chewed a sweet and acidic piece of strawberry and dabbed on his mouth corners with a napkin. "This is delicious, by the way. Thank you."

Adelyn sketched a toothy grin.

"You're very welcome, our chef Carlotta must be the best one in the kingdom, to be honest. She knows many recipes from other places, she was even offered a job for the royal family kitchen staff, but she rejected it." She spoke with sheer amazement.

"Why did she reject it? I imagine it must be a real honor to work for the royal family." Evan asked, sipping some juice, his palates enjoying the mixture of tropical flavors in the liquid.

"I don't know honestly. But if I were offered another job I'd turn it down, just like her." She pursed her lips once more. "The Martís are really a warm and understanding family, they are noble but not boastful like many other noble families in the kingdom, their humbleness and deep care towards those who are close to them always make you want to stay," Adelyn replied, smiling half-heartedly. "I'm an Avevian native, my family was native. We are not usually treated the same as Avevians with French or Spanish lineage, we're at the bottom of the social pyramid and in most cases belong to the lower class. It's rare to see a native working in other places that are not personnel for nobles or customer attention. But the Martís let me choose, I could be working and living here or working certain days of the week while I study the rest of the time. That was an opportunity that maybe no other family would have given me, and I treasure Lord Stefano and Lady Caterina for that kindness act."

Evan's eyes shone in tender feelings. Just last night Lord Stefano had reassured him he'd be able to keep chasing after his dreams, and now he finds out Lord and Lady Martí are not like that only with him, but with his personnel as well. Who knows what other generous acts they must have done in the past, they were really kind and admirable people…

Suddenly, Adelyn's eyes opened wide.

"Oh! My apologies for staying here telling you all of this, I've abused your kindness and wasted too much of your time, I'll prepare you a bath right now." She blushed fiercely and excused herself.

"Hey, it's alright, Adelyn. I appreciate you opening up to me, you're the first maid that has shown me a more human side of her since I've gotten here." He reassured her, smiling shyly at her. "Don't feel too pressured around me, I'll never treat you with disdain or anything, never treated any of my staff members like that back in Derbyshire, so I won't start doing it now that I'll marry a noble lady."

Adelyn smiled and giggled, her voice was melodic and sweet.

"Thank you very much, Sir Evan. I truly appreciate it."

And with that, she bowed swiftly and headed towards the en-suite bathroom.

Evan couldn't help but feel slightly better about the life he was soon going to have with this recent conversation. For some reason, he sensed Adelyn could be a potential friend, someone he could lean on when feeling overwhelmed or just sad or nostalgic. She could even keep his biggest secret if he ever got to trust her enough. But of course, he still saw that as something remote, after all, he never knew who was going to judge him and who wasn't...

Then, he took a quick look at the clock and nearly fainted: he was awfully late and Philippe would knock on the door at any moment. He gulped the cup of tea and stuffed his mouth with one entire toast. He got out of the bed and trotted towards the dresser, rummaging through the clothes, trying to pick something that could look nice and adequate for the occasion. Good God, it had been such a long time since he went shopping...