The First Meeting In The Windy Night

{FLASHBACK} - Winter 1702

The gust of the chill wind had Ember shivering a million times as she buried her palm in the warmth of her cape.

Ember stood by the route of Belmont, watching carriages crawl lazily past her as she awaited the carriage her father had promised would come for her.

Yet, she had stood from the sunset till the dark, windy night.

Ember crouched low when her feet began to hurt, wrapping her arms around her as the wind grew even frostier and harsher.

Meanwhile, the Duke, who was just returning from a journey outside the town, had seen a girl crouching low in the windy night and wondered if she was lost. So, he instantly signalled to his coachmen to make a turn.

Ember was terrified when she watched a carriage that had just crawled past her, making a turn and crawling back to a halt before her.

The carriage was way more luxurious than what her father would send. It was certainly not from him.

There were rumours about traffickers approaching young ladies in elegant outfits and deceiving them into a warehouse. These ladies are locked up and starved for days before they are transported to a foreign country to be sold.

What if they no longer used luxurious outfits but also luxurious carriages? Either way, the turn was a suspicious one to her.

The carriage's minuscule window was slid aside gently, and a face stuck out. Of course, Ember couldn't see the face on the cold night, but she assumed he was a scary-looking man.

More monstrous than she looked.

"Hello, young lady. Are you lost?"

His speech was refined and porshe, not something a trafficker should possess, but it could still be part of his tricks. He could have practised the way elites spoke to trick ladies into believing him to be a rich man.

Ember ignored him, hoping he'd assume she was deaf and realize that she wasn't a fine target.

"Young Lady, you seem to be in need of assistance. I could give you a lift."

He tried again.

When he waited for a response and got none from Ember, he shut the carriage window.

Ember had thought it was him surrendering and finally coming to realize that no client would be willing to buy her. She had heaved a sigh of relief in a second, and the next, she was back to panicking when she realized the man had gotten down from the carriage and began to approach her.

Ember buried her head beneath her Cape as she managed to steady her breath.

The stranger smelled expensive.

Citrus.

It was a popular scent among the elite of the country, and only a few in Belmont could afford it. A few filthy rich people.

How did he manage to get his hands on it? They went the extra mile for this. That could only mean they anticipated a huge result from it.

Goodness, was she going to be a sex slave?

The man crouches low before her and gently pats her hair.

"Hey, do you need help? I can help. Please, let me help you."

His baritone and the feel of his palm told Ember everything she needed to know about his age. He was young. In his late twenties or early thirties.

But, she was still not convinced he was a random rich man hoping to help.

"Please, don't hurt me."

Ember's little voice pleaded, her lips quivering.

"No. No, love. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help."

The Duke was so taken aback that she could regard him as such a person. However, it heightened his desire to offer a helping hand.

She was young. He could tell right from the moment he got out of the carriage. She had an adorable figure. He wanted to see the face behind it.

The Duke suddenly wraps his finger gently around her chin, tilting her head.

Their gaze locked for the first time.

It was in the dark. All he could see was the frostiest grey eyes he had ever set his eyes on. And, her lips, parted slightly, the rosiest he had ever laid his eyes on.

Ember hastily threw her face away when she remembered she had a scar to hide.

Somehow, when she looked into his oceanic gaze, she had a feeling she could trust him. Something about staring into his blue orbs assured her that he wasn't the dangerous man she thought him to be.

So, she let him take her hand in his rough one and led her into the carriage.

It had plush cushions and pillows. The rich man allowed her to use the pillows since she had crouched for a long time and could have strained a muscle in the process.

When he asked for her name, she refused to tell. And, when he had caught her amidst the carriage's galloping, she felt her heart skip.

He was a man she wished to meet again after he dropped her off at her destination.

However, she couldn't hold the shock she felt when she went to the modiste with Lauren the following day, and the Duke's carriage crawled past, and it was the exact one as the previous night

And, even if she could be mistaken because it was too dark to assume what the carriage looked like, he had slid the window and stuck his face out again, staring and waving at his people as they bowed in respect.

She couldn't, in the next few decades, forget those oceanic gazes.

The man she mistook for a trafficker was, in fact, the Duke. And, the man who she had believed wasn't a resident in Belmont was their Duke.

♣︎

The sound of the music commencing indicated that another dance session had begun.

Ember's heart didn't fail to miss another beat.

Lauren had returned because she had to dance with Lord Mlythe while she remained glued on the same spot, contemplating on adhering to the Duke's request.

But why would he request for her?

Perhaps he wanted to know why she was looking lost the other night. Or, maybe he meant to ask how she got home that night.

Either way, she would be forced to take off her cape because…

Well, he was the Duke, and it would be such a disrespect if she refused to reveal her face to him.

Ember panicked.

She didn't want the Duke to know what she looked like. She didn't want to reveal her scar to him.

Nevertheless, she marched to the garden as the music persisted amidst the dance session.

Approaching the garden and immediately catching a glimpse of the Duke's back view, Ember is forced to gather herself and prepare herself for the worst-case case scenario.

He could have her thrown out for showing such a grotesque look to the Duke. Or, he could feel disappointed that she didn't turn out to be the person he imagined. Beautiful and charming.

Either way, it would still be an honour to have the Duke request to meet her in such a secretive place.

The Duke, who had occupied himself with staring at the dark sky as he waited for her, heard approaching footsteps and immediately twisted around.

She was in her cape again.

He had hoped he would get to see the face behind the cape finally.

"Your grace."

Ember bowed, respectively, hoping she would get past whatever he had to discuss with her without having to take off her cape.

But, she was fooling herself, and she knew it.

"Take off your cape."