Chapter 3 The Scottish Damsel

• Chapter three
• Kicking stones aimlessly, she walked home in the dark. The last few days had been useless, with series of thefts and daydreaming about being a Savage duchess just to help her family survive once more.
• Horse steps made her look left, sighting Messengers on strong, black horses throwing scrolls around.
• From what she knew, they looked like invitations when she picked them up. But the event was what worsened the rest of her night.
• FROM THE FORLAND EMPIRE…
• The rest of the letter made her tear the scroll in pieces, rushing home before she snapped angrily in public.
• When she slammed the door and faced her family, they all had faces of mockery on.
• Nathan seemed angry, but forced a grin on, "Ah! There you are sister. We are so sorry. Seems your only plan of getting our home back failed. He's already found a duchess, soon to be wed."
• "I saw the invitation," she snarled at them, "And besides, they aren't married yet, are they?"
• Then she left for her room, ignoring the erratic laughter her family threw at her, mainly because they knew she could not do anything about it.
• Monica stared into the mirror. Any man wants a beautiful, presentable woman. She had beauty alright, but presentable was one thing she was not.
• She brought her red hair to her face, frowning because it was rough and unkept. The to-be duchess must have very excellent hair.
• Monica then studied her own eyes in the mirror, green as grass. That was one thing she was sure the future Duchess could not afford, "Sorry Your Grace. But there is no way I'll let you marry the Viscount's daughter."
• ***
• Jason tapped his chest proudly, "I knew I could bring this unity once more. I mean just look at us," he gestured to the six of them seated, "Together again after weeks of Philip's boring lessons."
• They were on white chairs, fixed in the centre of the major lawn, just beside the lake, providing the best view for coffee. Philip's mind however, was straying away.
• "So. Philip…"Earl grinned, "Are we still hunting for our warthog or..."
• "I am getting married soon," Philip interrupted while sipping from his cup.
• The five immediately stared blankly at him, shocked and clearly displeased by the sudden decision.
• Raymond tapped on the table, fighting the sadness in his voice, "Have you spoken to any woman apart from your mother and sister before?"
• The Duke stared into his cup, with a mood that showed he was against it as well, "It's arranged."
• Earl seemed more concerned than sad, "With who?"
• Philip perked his head towards the left side of the lawn at his sister who walked alongside Elizabeth Aflong, "Her."
• Peter laughed mockingly, a frown immediately replacing it, "Viscount's daughter?! Not everyone who's fine on the outside is like that on the inside. Do you even know her?"
• Philip nodded approvingly, "I know that. She is fine outside." He seemed to intentionally ignore the rest of his sentence.
• Still, Earl sensed that something was wrong with his mood, "Are you happy about this?"
• "My mother is," he replied honestly, "tomorrow is my introduction and betrothal. You all are invited."
• Before any more criticisms, he got up and walked away.
• They stared at one another. It was funny how everything had just changed.
• ***
• The butler waylaid Philip, "Your Grace, Your Grace."
• Philip turned and faced him, studying the pack of letters in his hands, "Yes?"
• The older man continued, "These are several responses from invitees concerning your invitations."
• The Duke nodded slowly, "Keep them in my chamber. I will look at them later."
• Philip continued in his way, towards his very own Duke office. Pushing the door open, a dark room lined with curtains from up to down faced him. It was massive, and smelled of…records and old letters. He pushed a section of the draperies open and light swarmed into the office, pointing straight at a stack of old scrolls.
• Just for reasons of idleness, he went through the letters. Some were from other Dukes to his father, some from Viscounts, others from Earls, then Marquesses.
• He smiled lightly, his own generation of Monarchs seemed to hate to put their feelings in black and white. They seemed to prefer to pour it out in horse races and sword fighting.
• He frowned suddenly when he found this particular letter from the King of England to his father.
• Picking it up, he read it till the last letter. That was when he got the biggest realisation of his life.
• From the letter, the duchy he ruled had control over part of Scotland. The King placed this acquired region of Scotland under his father's ownership, which now meant he now owned part of a whole country. But why?!
• ***
• "I am going to the introduction ceremony tomorrow," Monica exclaimed while she looked into the mirror, excitedly imagining herself in the black dress she held.
• Miranda shrieked at her words, "Tell me you'll meet the Duke and get our home back!"
• Monica faced her sister with a smile, "Patience Miranda. I will meet the Duke. Yes. But talking to him about Scotland will not be a day's affair."
• Keeping the dress down, she untied her red hair, shaking it to let the curls dance down her back, "In the meantime, go get me some jewelry from the neighbors. And maybe something to do my hair. I will teach Elizabeth Aflong a big lesson."
• She faced the mirror again with a dirty smirk on, "Just so you know my dear, I sent the Duke a letter."
• ***
• The letters were mainly congratulatory, apologetic or felicitating. The Duke smiled at the stack. Maybe being a Duke wasn't that bad afterall.
• About to turn his eyes away, he sighted something attractive; a handwriting. He pulled on the sheet and brought it to his face, admiring the italics genuinely.
• But then, unconsciously, he began reading it,
• I WOULD LOVE TO CONGRATULATE YOU, BUT I AM NOT IN SUPPORT OF THIS WEDDING…
• The Duke frowned, walked towards the dark terrace and leaned out, reading some more.
• DO NOT GET MARRIED TO THE VISCOUNT'S DAUGHTER, EVEN IF YOU WANT TO. I HAVE MY REASONS. AND IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY… YOU AND I WILL ATTEND HER FUNERAL.
• BEST WISHES,
• THE SCOTTISH DAMSEL.
• Philip threw the letter down, realising he had never been that threatened in his life…and by a lady. Somehow, she managed to instill a bit of fear and doubt in his head. Still, he was not sure if it was all a joke or something he was supposed to take seriously.
• And what reason exactly did she have to send such a letter?! His hands rubbed his head fearfully. What to do…
• ***
• "She calls herself the Scottish damsel," wailed Philip to his friends.
• Earl smiled, "OH! Just as I like, daring to the core. You have an admirer. Do you think she might be here tonight?"
• "I don't know," the Duke continued, "and that is a scary sort of admirer."
• Timothy placed a hand on his small beard, faking a serious tone, "But on a serious note, do you think there's something about Elizabeth that made her say that? I mean you don't know Elizabeth."
• Philip faced him with a glower, "Have you seen Elizabeth…" he looked down at her in the hall, then back at Timothy, "flawless."
• Earl began walking away, "Go get ready. I would like to see your secret admirer, or should I say, the Scottish damsel."