Lord Trevor

The perfect gentleman.

For the past twenty years, all my training had amounted to this one purpose. My father, the Duke of Lancastle, was obsessed with making his only child and heir the perfect gentleman. It always went this way;

Stand up whenever a woman entered a room.

Stand up whenever a woman stood.

Offer your seat for a lady if no one was available.

Retrieve dropped items for a lady...

Jesus Christ! The list was mostly about women! I was bloody knackered for all these. I wanted to see the world for what it truly was; I had read in my books that there were other lands out there except great Britain. Beautiful lands blooming with magnificence and grace and always had adventure hidden at every corner.

I no longer wanted to be hidden behind a desk, engrossed in a mountain of a book all in the name of learning how to be a gentleman. Four years of training with my governess was enough. But father felt I needed advanced training with a tutor.

At times, I wondered if he truly was my father. We clearly had different opinions on life itself.

I peered outside the arched windows of my study, the forecourt of our manor flourished with roses and cobbled pavements made with the finest quarries. Across that large expanse laid the gates. Gates I never crossed unless I was accompanied by at least ten guards. Overprotective was an understatement when describing my father.

He became this way after my mother was killed in the streets of London, by a stray bullet fired by a drunk soldier- I soon found later to be dead. My father tried to hide his care and fear under that arrogant facade. I knew he didn't want me to end up like her. But the gentleman training was way off.

Streaks of buttery light phased through my windows tossing its warmth throughout my room, a magpie in the distance singing. Shutting close my gargantuan book, it made a roaring thud, chasing away a pigeon that was perched at my window. I stood from my wooden chair, the legs screeching against the marble floor. If my father was in here, he would scold me.

"Stand up like a gentleman," he would say, "Don't make a sound with your chair."

Can anyone tell me how that was possible? Shaking off those irrelevant thoughts, I mazed through my study, skirting past a painting area, an alabaster Greek god sculpture, a standing knight armour and finally arrived at my bookshelf. It towered to the high ceiling designed with naked cherubim holding each other.

Father had weird taste.

I put the book back in its place, donned a blue tunic and left the room, heading to my favourite place; The Hasting lake. Servants scurried around the manor, always managing to grace me a quick bow before they went to their various businesses. Exiting the building, I came face to face with a sprawling forecourt, a pristine fountain at the centre of a maze of garden beds, spilling crystal clear water into its water brimming mouth.

Two guards in crisp blue uniforms saluted me as I walked past them, their alert eyes not leaving me for once. It has always been this way; watching my every step for my father.

I rolled my eyes at their obviousness. At least if they were watching me, they should try to be a lot more professional about it. After a few minutes, I found myself at my destination. I couldn't withhold the smile that stretched my lips. Why would I? This place held memories. I would always come here with my mother whenever she wanted to tell me stories about lands filled with magic and adventure. Unlike my father, she was an adventure seeker like me.

Those were good times indeed, good times.

The lake was a beautiful shade of blue, yet so clear you could see fish swimming and pebbles with hues of different colours. A dense pine grove surrounded it, the green of their leaves bustling with life and nature. I settled on the shore of the lake, a knee cradled to my chest, my elbow resting on the joint between my femur and lower leg. My reflection was mirrored in the lake; my dark eyes staring back at me and dark hair fixed at my nape. The lower part of my face was completed with a strong jaw and high cheek bones I inherited from my father, who I learnt, was a ladies man back then.

I sucked in a deep breath, the fresh air saturating my nostrils. This was where I came to find peace. Where I came to imagine the life I had always wanted. I slid my gaze to the sky, the clouds taking the shapes of men on horses riding through lands of all kinds; hilly scapes, dense forests, hot deserts... My imaginary friends were living my dream.

Then something else appeared in the sky.

Something I didn't imagine. It was a tiny black dot in the blue growing larger and larger as it came down. Before my eyes could register its movement it slammed into me.

Bollocks!