Her hand sat on his shoulder while his was wrapped around her waist. They move in sync, smooth and very slow.
"You look very nice, Miss Everard." He whispered over her shoulder.
Miranda's smile was polite, her eyes fixed on a point beyond his shoulder. "Thank you, Lord Herschel," she replied.
She could feel Lord Herschel's warm breath on her skin, his hand tightening around her waist. "You seem a little distant, Miss Everard," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Is everything all right?"
Miranda's gaze snapped back to his,"I'm just enjoying the music, Lord Herschel," she lied, her voice sweet as honey.
Lord Herschel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he smiled and continued to dance with her.
When the music drew to a end, Miranda felt a faint sense of relief wash over her.
The music stopped, and Lord Herschel bowed low over her hand. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Everard," he said, his eyes locked onto hers.
Miranda was still smiling softly. "The pleasure is all mine, Lord Herschel," she replied, her voice dripping with politeness.
Lord Herschel straightened and Miranda withdrew her hand from his sight, her eyes never leaving his face.
"Your father is the general, guarding the border. Is that right?" He asked, engaging her in a conversation while leading her away from the dance floor.
Miranda followed, "Yes, Lord Herschel."
"That is very impressive." He breathed out.
"Why so?" She asked.
He stopped for a moment to look at her in the eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "Your family has been guarding the border for three generations now. And Her Majesty has trusted your family with this for a good while."
"I still don't understand what you're trying to say, Lord Herschel." She didn't look away from him. "My family has been loyal to the throne and the people. We have protected the city for decades and we will continue to do so."
He snorted. "Really? Then I hope your brother does not fail your generation. I heard he was not competent at all."
"My brother is a capable soldier," she said, her voice even. "He's earned his place in the guard."
Lord Herschel's smile grew wider. "I'm sure he has," he said, skepticism clinging on his voice. "But competence is not just about earning a place, is it? It's about results."
Miranda's gaze locked onto his, she knew what he was playing at. But she was never going to give him the thought that he had a chance to take over her family's place at the royal court.
"I think my brother's abilities speak for themselves," she said, her voice cool. "Perhaps we should focus on more pleasant topics. The ball is lovely, don't you think?"
She began leading the way, and he followed closely behind her.
Lord Herschel's eyes gleam with amusement, but he nodded graciously. "Yes, the ball is indeed lovely. And I'm glad to have had the chance to dance with you, Miss Everard."
Miranda stopped near the garden, her eyes scanning the flowers. Lord Herschel stood beside her with his eyes fixed on the same view, but his attention was clearly on her.
"The gardens are lovely this time of year, what do you think?" Lord Herschel said, with a low voice.
Miranda's gaze remained on the gardens, but her voice took on a slightly distant tone. "Yes, the gardens are very lovely."
We used to love watching the flowers bloom. She breathed out shakily. It felt so familiar yet too unfamiliar.
Like a distant memory.
Lord Herschel's eyes flicked towards her, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he said, "I've heard that the gardens are particularly beautiful in the spring, when the flowers are in bloom."
Miranda's expression remained serene, but her voice was cool. "I'm sure they are. Though I've always found that the beauty of a garden is often fleeting. They're like memories."
Lord Herschel's gaze lingered on her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Memories can be fleeting, indeed," he said, "But some memories linger, don't they? The ones that are etched in our minds like the patterns on a garden's stone paths."
Miranda's eyes didn't look away from the gardens, but her voice took on a hint of wistfulness. "Yes, some memories do linger. Though they can be bittersweet, like the scent of blooming flowers that lingers long after the blooms have faded."
They loved taking long walks. It was one of her favorite activities after a long day of watching over the city. She breathed out, his warmth overwhelming her.
The air between them was heavy with unspoken meaning. Lord Herschel's eyes bore into her. "It seems like you've been hurt before."
The sound of laughter and music drifted from the ballroom, mingling with the scent of flowers and the soft rustle of leaves in the garden.
"We swallow a lot of pain." She said.
He nodded. "We do." He continued, "but the pain of love is so evidence that it cannot be swallowed. You have been in love before, is that right Miss Everard?"
"I don't like talking about feelings." She told her.
"They cannot be that bad." He said.
Miranda's smile faltered with a soft curve on her lips. "Feelings are like poison, Lord Herschel," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. "They seep into your soul, corroding everything beautiful, leaving only decay and heartache in their wake." She took a step forward, the gentle breeze whispering through her hair. "They shatter you from the inside out, leaving shards of pain that refuse to heal, a constant reminder of what's been lost."
Her eyes clouded, and she cursed under her breath.
Do not be vulnerable. Not right now.
She had to play Lord Herschel in his own game. Not stand before him and rekindle old flames.
One he didn't remember.
But it didn't matter that he couldn't remember. It wouldn't change anything. She died on his hands, dismissing the love they once shared and she was never going back on that road once again.
Miranda's composure snapped back into place, she turned to Lord Herschel. "I think I've indulged in sentimentality long enough, Lord Herschel," she said, "Tell me, what do you think is the key to success in the royal court?"
Lord Herschel's gaze lingered on her face as if searching for a crack in her armor. "The key to success?" Lord Herschel repeated, thoughtful. "I think it's a combination of strategy and adaptability."
Miranda's smile was polite, but her eyes sparkled with interest. "Adaptability?" she repeated. "That's an intriguing choice of word but I think it's more about resilience."
"Why do you say so?" He asked.
Miranda's gaze met Lord Herschel's, her eyes locking onto his. "Resilience is what allows one to navigate the complexities of the royal court," she said. "It's not just about adapting to changing circumstances, but about withstanding the pressures and stresses that come with serving the crown."
Lord Herschel's eyes was suddenly filled with curiosity, his smile forming. "I see." He said. "And what do you think is the most important quality for someone in a position of power to possess?"
"I think it's the ability to make difficult decisions, even when they're not well known," she said. "A leader must be willing to take calculated risks and face challenges head on, rather than shying away from them."
Lord Herschel titled hos head, then looked up straight. "When do you think we should do a wedding ceremony?"
Miranda turned away and smiled.
That was what she wanted.
To walk in smoothly into her marriage with Lord Herschel. With him as the Lord of the House, and at his favor, it would be less difficult to gain favors with the ministers and the noble families.
"I think it would be a great cemetery if held on the seventeen day of the month." She replied.
"That's four days from now." He said, "Isn't it too soon for you?"
She shifted. "I think it's a wonderful time for me, My Lord." It was the first time calling him My Lord.
"Good."