Birthday Party (2)

The sunset fell and blazed the Wynter estate with an orange glow, setting the sky on fire.

Guests began to arrive. Their laughter and chatter mixed with the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Duchess Victoria stood elegantly near the entrance. She greeted Countess Jenkins with a warm smile.

"Welcome, dear! Isn't the garden enchanting?" Her voice carried a hint of a pride.

Countess Jenkins' eyes swept across the gardenA. ' This is absolutely stunning, Your Excellency," she admired. "You have truly outdone yourself."

As more guests arrived, Duchess Victoria moved with ease, her words as smooth as her steps.

"Lady Margaret, how lovely to see you! I hope the journey wasn't too taxing."

Lady Margaret smiled, her gloved hand brushing against the Duchess's. "Not at all, Your Grace. The countryside was breathtaking, though it pales in comparison to your gardens."

"Lord Pembroke," the Duchess said, turning to a tall man with a cane. Her voice was smooth, like honey. "Your presence is always a delight. Do try the lemonade—it's a family recipe."

Lord Pembroke chuckled, his voice warm. "You spoil us, Duchess. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

The Duchess moved through the crowd, giving each guest a moment. A word. A smile. Something that made them feel special.

The garden was a masterpiece. Twinkling lights hung from the trees like stars. They cast a soft glow over everything. Flowers bloomed in every color—bright petals against the green. Stone paths wound through the garden.

 It felt magical.

Rory, the star of tonight's party, twirled in her sparkling fairy gown. The fabric shimmered with every move. "Mother, it's perfect!" she said, her voice full of joy.

Duchess Victoria watched her daughter with quiet pride. "You deserve perfection, darling," she replied softly.

The garden buzzed with life. Guests whispered in awe. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" one asked. Another replied, "It's like stepping into a dream."

Rory ran to her mother, her eyes wide with joy. "Thank you, Mother. This is the best day ever."

Victoria smiled. "It's only the beginning, my love. There's so much more to come."

She glanced around, taking in the scene. The garden, the lights, the laughter—it was all for Rory. And it was perfect.

Julian, the Duke's only son, moved through the crowd with quiet confidence. He led a line of maids carrying trays of refreshments, their steps light, almost like a dance. "Fairy cakes, anyone?" he announced, his voice cutting through the chatter.

Countess Thompson was the first to sample the treats. "Julian, these refreshments look divine," she said, taking a small bite. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor. A faint smile played on her lips.

The cakes were as light as air, their sweetness perfectly balanced. Every bite showed the care that went into making them.

The party unfolded like a well-choreographed dance, each moment flowing seamlessly into the next. Guests wandered through the garden. Their voices mixed with soft music in the air.

Some paused to admire the flowers, their fingers brushing against petals as if to confirm their beauty was real.

Others gathered in small groups, sharing laughter and stories over plates of delicate pastries and glasses of sparkling wine.

"These pastries are incredible," said a woman in a flowing blue dress, holding one up for inspection. "I think I've had three already."

Her companion laughed. "Four, actually. I've been counting."

Nearby, a man with a glass of wine gestured toward the garden. "Have you seen the roses? They're almost too perfect. Like they're not real."

"They're real," his friend replied, plucking a petal gently. "But I get what you mean. It's like stepping into a painting."

The garden felt magical. The roses, the laughter, the music—it all fit together.

"Do you remember last year's party?" a woman asked, turning to her friend. "It was so different. Quieter."

"This one feels… brighter," her friend nodded, glancing around. "Like everyone's on the same page."

A burst of laughter erupted from a nearby group. "I swear, if you tell that story one more time—" one of them said, shaking their head.

"Oh, I'm telling it," another shot back, grinning. "It's too good not to."

The music shifted. The garden seemed to hum along, alive with energy. Conversations flowed like a river, weaving in and out, connecting everyone.

"I think this might be the best party yet," someone murmured, almost to themselves.

Then Duke Wynter raised his glass, his voice cutting through the chatter with ease.

 "Happy birthday, dear Rory!" he declared, his tone warm and full of affection. "May all your dreams bloom like these beautiful flowers!"

The crowd erupted. Cheers and applause rolled through the garden like a wave. Glasses clinked.

***

The garden glowed softly under the lanterns, casting a warm light on Rory, Duchess Wynter's daughter, as she danced gracefully. Her pale pink gown shimmered faintly, like a dew on petals in the morning.

Lord Whiskerbottom's son, Leo, walked toward her. His bow was smooth. His words, were even smoother.

"May I have this dance, Lady Rory? You outshine even the fairy lights tonight."

Rory's smile was soft as she placed her hand in his. "The pleasure's mine, Lord Leo."

The string quartet played. Their music wrapped around the dancers like a gentle thread. Rory and Leo danced together. Their steps were slow. Perfectly in sync.

Nearby, Sophia, Lady Purrington's daughter, watched with a mix of admiration and envy.

"Rory, you're radiant tonight!" she called out.

Rory laughed, her tiara catching the light with every turn. "Thank you, Sophia!"

The room buzzed with whispers.

"What an exquisite pair," one whispered.

"Lady Aurora's beauty is unmatched," another added.

"Lord Leo looks completely in love," a third observed.

The air was thick with unspoken intentions, as Lord Thomas, Earl Sebastian, and Prince Felix lingered nearby, each waiting for their chance to claim Rory's hand for a dance.

Duchess Wynter stood at the edge of the dance floor, her pride evident in the way she watched her daughter.

"Rory, darling," she said as the waltz slowed, "your happiness fills my heart."

Leo leaned in, his voice low and earnest. "You dance like a fairy, Lady Rory. Would you consider a lifetime of waltzes together?"

Rory's cheeks flushed, but her reply was measured. "Lord Leo, your words are sweet, but tonight is for celebration, not promises."

As the music faded, Alexander, Sophia's brother, stepped forward. "May I steal Lady Rory for the next dance?" he asked with a playful grin.

Leo bowed gracefully, though his reluctance was clear. "The pleasure's yours, Lord Alexander."

Rory and Alexander stepped into the center of the floor. Above them, the stars twinkled like silent watchers.

Between dances, Lord Thomas and Earl Sebastian approached Duchess Wynter, their intentions plain. They wanted to bind their families with the Wynter Dukedom.

Prince Felix, always the showman, composed a sonnet on the spot.

"Oh, fairest Rory, thy beauty doth enthrall, a princess worthy of my royal call. Might I aspire to thy lovely hand? Forever yours, Prince Felix."

The guests erupted into applause, their voices overlapping.

"Bravo, Prince Felix!"

"How romantic!"

"Rory's truly enchanted tonight!"

"A royal marriage, perhaps?"

Rory's heart fluttered, but her smile remained enigmatic. It left her suitors guessing. Where did her affections truly lie? No one knew.