((Contains reference to adult situations.))
Moving forward with the times when you were a part of Tirisano's elite nobility should have been harder than this. Yet somehow, between the fairytale romance and wedding of the heir to the throne, and the surprisingly liberal views of the Duke of Roslae, not even the conservative press had blinked an eye when Lady Keira Talbot had moved into the Stuart townhouse in the capital of Itana following the announcement of her engagement to Tirisano's most eligible bachelor. Indeed, she had been such a fixture there for such a while now that she no longer needed to fight her way through hordes of camera-wielding freelancers. Oh, there were still one or two, but they'd given up on hounding her to and from the museum. Thus she was able to drive comfortably through the gates and to the house without feeling as though she wanted to hurt someone permanently these days.
She was late home today, having been caught up in cataloging the Stuart family portraits that had finally been loaned to the museum. The task had taken her far longer than she had expected, snow falling to lie atop the crisp blanket already covering the ground by the time she pulled up to the house. Shivering in her coat, she ran up the steps and in through the door, thanking the doorman with a warm smile for his perfect timing.
And yet, the gossip papers were always trying to connect Tirisano's most eligible bachelor to some woman or other, almost as if they were either expecting him to fail at his engagement or were secretly hoping for it. If the Earl of Roslae had one flaw - besides his attraction to women - it was his temper, which was presently making itself known in his pacing of the study and grumbling quietly to himself under his breath.
Had Duke Oliver been in residence, Keira would have been obliged to rush upstairs and change her clothes for dinner, but she was lucky in her prospective father-in-law - he had left the city for his estate at Roslae the day before, allowing his eldest son a little privacy with the woman he intended to marry. Handing her coat to the first footman who met her eyes, Keira didn't need telling where James was. When the house was this quiet, when the staff seemed this wary' He was in the study. And that was where she was heading, letting herself in without knocking. "Good evening, your lordship."
It was true - the house was a little too quiet, the servants moving around quietly and carefully, like they were walking on eggshells, but though Jamie had a reputation for having a bad temper, all he seemed to be doing was pacing and muttering to himself - the calm before the storm, perhaps. "Lordship, my eye!" he grumbled, now that he had someone to commiserate with. "Have you seen the papers?" he inquired, stopping in mid-pace to turn and face her. It wasn't her he was angry at, though she might not know that yet.
She took all this in with raised brows before moving into the room. "Good evening to you, too, Keira," she said, embracing her sarcasm to make a point. "You're late home, is everything all right' Oh, yes, everything's fine. I was working late, that's all. Well, I'm glad you're home. And so am I, I've been looking forward to my welcome home kiss for the last four hours." She paused by the desk, one hand on her hip as she looked up at him. "That's when you get to blow up at me about whatever horror story the papers have published today."
He grunted in response, knowing she was right but a little too proud to admit it. He was obviously not as easy-going as he let everyone think. "Just look at that!" he said, waggling a finger at the gossip papers that were piled atop his desk. Why he was reading them or how he'd gotten his hands on them was another story, altogether. He wasn't much in the mood for kissing right now, knowing that would quickly deflate his anger. Better to let the storm rage and blow itself out, followed by the calm.
Keira sighed, turning her attention to the pile of papers and magazines. She would much rather have come home to a better mood, but this, too, was a part of being James Stuart's fiancee. She lifted up the one on the top of the pile. "I don't understand why you read these," she said quietly, scanning the words on the page. "They never print anything even halfway accurate."
On the cover of the first paper she happened to choose was a grainy photograph of him in a slightly compromising position with an unidentified blonde and a headline that suggested the Earl of Roslae was cheating on his intended. "That picture was taken years ago. Years ago, mind you! There..." He moved over to tap an index finger against the photograph. "You see" My hair is shorter. It's bloody preposterous!"
"Mmhmm ..." She nodded slowly, absorbing his anger as well as the ludicrous reprinting of a picture that had made gossip headlines years ago in the first place. "They seem to have overlooked something in their eagerness to reprint this, though." She tapped her own finger against the grainy image of a figure in the background of the shot - grainy, but clearly herself, with no engagement ring on her finger, laughing with a friend. "I think it may be time to call your lawyers, sweetheart. They're not only invading your privacy, but they are attacking your personal life with these ridiculous stories. And I will call Lady Alyssa and remind her just who she's dealing with. What was she thinking, to give them a fresh story to print?"
He ignored her cool and logical reaction to dig through the pile for another paper with another photograph of him with yet another woman. "And that..." he pointed out shoving the paper across the desk at her. "That was taken just after we broke up! What are they trying to do, Keira" I have not been seeing anyone since we got engaged!" Before that, even. He hadn't been dating anyone since well before they'd gotten back together.
"They're trying to sell more copies than their competitors, Jamie," she pointed out, refusing to get angry over this. He was angry enough for the both of them, it seemed. "You don't have to tell me. I trust you, Jamie. I love you. And this ..." She sighed, gesturing to the collection of papers on the desk. "This is a result of no scandal for them to play with for the last few months. The princess is married and of age, the city's most eligible bachelor is settled down. There haven't been any arguments between the Prince and the Parliament recently, much less any announcements of births or divorces. When the Season starts again, they'll stop. But since this is causing you so much upset, I think they should be told to stop. Forcefully."
He was at least calm enough to let her speak without erupting further, the voice of reason helping to cool his anger and ease his temper. "It's rubbish, Keira, plain and simple," he replied, but then she had made it clear that she already knew that. "Are they trying to ruin us?" No, she was more than likely right. People loved gossip and the more scandal the papers reported, the more copies they sold, whether the stories were true or false. "I'll call my lawyers in the morning. I will not have it. This has to stop!"
Moving forward with the times when you were a part of Tirisano's elite nobility should have been harder than this. Yet somehow, between the fairytale romance and wedding of the heir to the throne, and the surprisingly liberal views of the Duke of Roslae, not even the conservative press had blinked an eye when Lady Keira Talbot had moved into the Stuart townhouse in the capital of Itana following the announcement of her engagement to Tirisano's most eligible bachelor. Indeed, she had been such a fixture there for such a while now that she no longer needed to fight her way through hordes of camera-wielding freelancers. Oh, there were still one or two, but they'd given up on hounding her to and from the museum. Thus she was able to drive comfortably through the gates and to the house without feeling as though she wanted to hurt someone permanently these days.
She was late home today, having been caught up in cataloging the Stuart family portraits that had finally been loaned to the museum. The task had taken her far longer than she had expected, snow falling to lie atop the crisp blanket already covering the ground by the time she pulled up to the house. Shivering in her coat, she ran up the steps and in through the door, thanking the doorman with a warm smile for his perfect timing.
And yet, the gossip papers were always trying to connect Tirisano's most eligible bachelor to some woman or other, almost as if they were either expecting him to fail at his engagement or were secretly hoping for it. If the Earl of Roslae had one flaw - besides his attraction to women - it was his temper, which was presently making itself known in his pacing of the study and grumbling quietly to himself under his breath.
Had Duke Oliver been in residence, Keira would have been obliged to rush upstairs and change her clothes for dinner, but she was lucky in her prospective father-in-law - he had left the city for his estate at Roslae the day before, allowing his eldest son a little privacy with the woman he intended to marry. Handing her coat to the first footman who met her eyes, Keira didn't need telling where James was. When the house was this quiet, when the staff seemed this wary' He was in the study. And that was where she was heading, letting herself in without knocking. "Good evening, your lordship."
It was true - the house was a little too quiet, the servants moving around quietly and carefully, like they were walking on eggshells, but though Jamie had a reputation for having a bad temper, all he seemed to be doing was pacing and muttering to himself - the calm before the storm, perhaps. "Lordship, my eye!" he grumbled, now that he had someone to commiserate with. "Have you seen the papers?" he inquired, stopping in mid-pace to turn and face her. It wasn't her he was angry at, though she might not know that yet.
She took all this in with raised brows before moving into the room. "Good evening to you, too, Keira," she said, embracing her sarcasm to make a point. "You're late home, is everything all right' Oh, yes, everything's fine. I was working late, that's all. Well, I'm glad you're home. And so am I, I've been looking forward to my welcome home kiss for the last four hours." She paused by the desk, one hand on her hip as she looked up at him. "That's when you get to blow up at me about whatever horror story the papers have published today."
He grunted in response, knowing she was right but a little too proud to admit it. He was obviously not as easy-going as he let everyone think. "Just look at that!" he said, waggling a finger at the gossip papers that were piled atop his desk. Why he was reading them or how he'd gotten his hands on them was another story, altogether. He wasn't much in the mood for kissing right now, knowing that would quickly deflate his anger. Better to let the storm rage and blow itself out, followed by the calm.
Keira sighed, turning her attention to the pile of papers and magazines. She would much rather have come home to a better mood, but this, too, was a part of being James Stuart's fiancee. She lifted up the one on the top of the pile. "I don't understand why you read these," she said quietly, scanning the words on the page. "They never print anything even halfway accurate."
On the cover of the first paper she happened to choose was a grainy photograph of him in a slightly compromising position with an unidentified blonde and a headline that suggested the Earl of Roslae was cheating on his intended. "That picture was taken years ago. Years ago, mind you! There..." He moved over to tap an index finger against the photograph. "You see" My hair is shorter. It's bloody preposterous!"
"Mmhmm ..." She nodded slowly, absorbing his anger as well as the ludicrous reprinting of a picture that had made gossip headlines years ago in the first place. "They seem to have overlooked something in their eagerness to reprint this, though." She tapped her own finger against the grainy image of a figure in the background of the shot - grainy, but clearly herself, with no engagement ring on her finger, laughing with a friend. "I think it may be time to call your lawyers, sweetheart. They're not only invading your privacy, but they are attacking your personal life with these ridiculous stories. And I will call Lady Alyssa and remind her just who she's dealing with. What was she thinking, to give them a fresh story to print?"
He ignored her cool and logical reaction to dig through the pile for another paper with another photograph of him with yet another woman. "And that..." he pointed out shoving the paper across the desk at her. "That was taken just after we broke up! What are they trying to do, Keira" I have not been seeing anyone since we got engaged!" Before that, even. He hadn't been dating anyone since well before they'd gotten back together.
"They're trying to sell more copies than their competitors, Jamie," she pointed out, refusing to get angry over this. He was angry enough for the both of them, it seemed. "You don't have to tell me. I trust you, Jamie. I love you. And this ..." She sighed, gesturing to the collection of papers on the desk. "This is a result of no scandal for them to play with for the last few months. The princess is married and of age, the city's most eligible bachelor is settled down. There haven't been any arguments between the Prince and the Parliament recently, much less any announcements of births or divorces. When the Season starts again, they'll stop. But since this is causing you so much upset, I think they should be told to stop. Forcefully."
He was at least calm enough to let her speak without erupting further, the voice of reason helping to cool his anger and ease his temper. "It's rubbish, Keira, plain and simple," he replied, but then she had made it clear that she already knew that. "Are they trying to ruin us?" No, she was more than likely right. People loved gossip and the more scandal the papers reported, the more copies they sold, whether the stories were true or false. "I'll call my lawyers in the morning. I will not have it. This has to stop!"