First Draft

"Hold still, child!" Mabel sighed, and Nora ignored the vulgar words the old maid muttered under her breath.

"Miss Mabel, I cannot sit still when you are pulling my head to and fro." Nora rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, and Mabel tugged harder. She had tried to befriend Mabel since Lady Margaret adored her and offered Mabel leniency when any other would undoubtedly give her the sack. However, Lady Margaret made it clear that Mabel was part of the family and could do no wrong in the countess's eyes. Mabel was here for the duration, so Nora would have to try harder to get along with her. Mabel could be rather kind and witty when the mood suited her.

Gerald had informed Nora that Mabel was a childhood friend of his mother's, and upon her marriage to the late Earl of Blakley, Margaret had taken Mabel on as lady's maid. Mabel was like a second mother to Gerald and insisted that her bark was louder than her bite. Nora wasn't sure if this was indeed true. She had treated Miss Mabel with extreme kindness, and Mabel had returned the gesture with scorn and a lot of unladylike terms.

"Now then, I think my mistress will be pleased. Not that you made it easy on me, but your hair looks right pleasant. Now, let us get you into all this getup and see if ya pass the mustard with Her Ladyship."

"Thank you, Mabel," Nora graciously said as she turned her head side to side, checking out Mabel's handiwork. Mabel merely grunted. Nora had to admit that the woman was quite adept with fashioning hair.

Once fully dressed and outfitted in some of Lady Margaret's opulent jewels, they made their way to the countess who was laid out on a chaise lounge in her private quarters. Mabel cleared her throat, and Margaret opened one eye before shooting up into a sitting position, mouth agape and eyes bulging wide. "What I would give to look like that again. Child, you look like a porcelain doll. You outdid yourself, Mabel." Lady Margaret smiled at her long-term companion and friend before saying, "Now, take yourself a rest. Have a brandy or go stuff your face with a few of those cakes that Cook has made for me."

Mabel quit the room with a sloppy and relatively quick curtsey. "What about you?" Nora asked, waving a hand in the countess's direction. "It is getting rather late, and you are not dressed for the soiree." Nora took in the stains and crumbs littering Lady Margaret's dressing gown and the area surrounding her. The countess was a proper mess. Although Margaret was always clean, she was not tidy as the stacks of papers and nicknacks cluttering her room testified. Nora shuddered to think what the countess would do without Mabel and her numerous servants.

"Sweet, sweet Nora," she whispered and tsked loudly. "Mabel will return me to rights after she has a small reprieve. Just look at the work she has done for you! I've yet to see a more bonny lass." Lady Margaret winked. "You know I loathe showing up anywhere early or on time. We must make a late entrance, child, after everyone has settled in and spoken to one another. Now that's how you make an impact and unforgettable entrance, love. There's nobody there if you show up early and the majority of guests arrive on time. Which means there are too many people for any one individual to stand out. So, do you follow my logic?" She cocked her head, eyes narrowed, waiting for Nora's reply.

"I do, and your reasoning makes perfect sense for those who wish to make an impact and be remembered. I, myself, abhor being ogled." Nora placed her hands on her hips, a smile playing along her lips. One couldn't help but love the insufferable and tiresome Lady Margaret.

"Well, child, you will be leered at tonight regardless of when we show up. You shall learn to enjoy it if it's the death of me!" The countess giggled. "Now, let us have a spot of brandy while we wait for Mabel. I can tell something is nagging you. It will help if you spill your guts to Auntie Maggie." Lady Margaret wagged her brows and laughed her signature cackle that could make the hairs stand up on your arms.

***

The Earl of Blakley paced his study and finally succumbed to the urge he'd been fighting and poured himself a small measure of whisky. Not one to partake often in spirits, he did like a bit of whisky or brandy now and again. Tonight he had a reason for indulging, and that reason would be coming down the staircase very soon. Gerald could almost feel her impending arrival which prompted him to down the fiery liquid.

The Earl of Blakely had always considered himself a brave and confident man. However, Miss Nora Sharpe had turned him into a sniveling, yellow-bellied coward. Tonight, he wanted to be assertive and calm around her yet wasn't sure if that were possible. Her beauty and charm were enough to throw him off guard, but being an earl often exposed him to the most exquisite and gorgeous women in England and beyond. Yet still, he quaked in her presence like an inexperienced youth.

It wasn't her looks that bewitched him, turning him into a proper fool. It was everything about Nora... her very essence. Gerald loved her hair, smile, laugh, humor, mannerisms, and unique smell. Just thinking of her signature scent: bergamot, lavender, and a hint of something he couldn't quite identify. Overall, it was an earthly, clean floral scent that tantalized his senses. He could smell Nora now as if she were in the room. Funny how the mind plays tricks, he thought while downing a second whiskey.

Hoping to put an end to his fanciful, amorous musings, Lord Vinge adjusted his cravat and grabbed the empty whisky glass from the fireplace mantle. As he turned to deposit the glass on the sideboard, it almost slipped from his hand. It wasn't my imagination, after all. In the doorway of his study, the object of his cowardness, desire, and latest thoughts stood silently, observing him. No wonder I smelled her so keenly.

She appeared before him like a regal queen, and it was hard to fathom she was once a scullery maid-a mere servant. Nora looked and acted like nobility. Her beauty shone as she stood in a pale peach gown, glossy blond hair piled high with intricate curls and adornments woven throughout. She was also dripping in jewels-pearls and diamonds, to be exact. Although the jewelry was magnificent, it paled in comparison to Nora's strikingly exquisite beauty.

At a loss for words, the earl stood silent and struck dumb. He knew he should speak or say something, yet he couldn't seem to form words. Especially when he noticed the jewels adorning her belonged to the countess, his mother. His mind immediately wandered to a future where Nora would one day be his countess, and those jewels would be hers to pass along to their daughters.

"Lord Vinge," Nora said cautiously. "Are you quite all right?"

Finding his voice, Gerald answered, "Yes, quite, Miss Sharpe. Is Mother waiting for us?" No, Miss Sharpe, I am not. I may never be all right again.

"Yes, my lord, and the carriage is waiting as well."

"Let us take our leave." The Earl of Blakley approached and offered his arm. "You look lovely tonight, Miss Sharpe," he said as she tucked her arm through his.

"And you look splendidly handsome, my lord." Nora smiled up at him.

Gerald hoped she was in earnest while basking in her small compliment. Fore, if he could not have her love for eternity, he would never again be the same. A lifetime of feeling this emptiness inside didn't bear thinking about. A lifetime of loving her from afar seemed a cruel cross to bear.

Tonight I shall bear my heart and soul to you, my love. I pray you do not shatter and destroy me.

Hello dear readers! Sorry to keep you waiting so long for this chapter. I do hope you enjoyed it, and poor Lord Gerald Vinge, the Earl of Blakley, is madly in love with our Nora! I hope she doesn't break his heart. Please vote if you enjoyed this chapter, and comments are always lovely. I didn't have time to do any edits, so this is a rough first draft. Love and peace to you all, and thanks for reading,

Lady Lisa