The sky split open with a vast cluster of stars that harmonized with the melancholy hum of the winter breeze, blending with the violin's moan and the trumpet's echoes that filled the English neighborhood. From within the depths of the Al-Balham house, which had transformed from a solemn mansion into a magnificent celebration venue.
The golden wax idols melted like a floating chandelier, casting blue shadows over Louis as he followed the reflection of the fireplace flames in the mirror with a surrounding gaze. He stood still, his body slightly inclined, his hand gripping a knot in his tie, hesitating between loosening it or freeing himself from everything beside him.
He was not particularly eager to attend the party held in the house opposite, especially after what he had heard about Harold and the notorious reputation of the strange twins, which made him reluctant to approach them. However, in the midst of his absentmindedness, he saw an indistinct movement that made him raise his eyes upon hearing the invitation to go. The lady of the house was definitely summoning him.
"Louis."
A blink. His grandmother turned around abruptly, standing firm on the doorstep, her eyes carrying an accusatory look. The tension creeping onto her face was barely concealed by her rigid expression. "Mr. Siegfried has come downstairs," she said. "He says you're both heading out for some occasion."
The flicker in her eyes clearly reflected her strong disapproval of stopping entirely. He had not asked for her permission to receive an exclusive invitation to a Balham event because he knew well how much she despised their fanaticism. It was evident he had not yet made up his mind completely… until now.
"Where will you be going with that snobbish boy, Louis?" She raised her eyebrows in brief indignation, offering him a tense yet playful smile while tightening his tie knot hastily.
"It's just a small party, Grandma."
Lady Elizabeth's eyebrows shimmered with a steely glint as she watched her only grandson, dressed elegantly for an evening, standing at the height of his youth. Unintentionally, Louis returned her gaze, his blue eyes flickering as he gently clasped her hand in his own, smiling softly to reassure her rather than disturb her.
"A Balham party, Louis?" she asked in a low tone laced with a barely restrained thread of anger, making him press his lips together as he slowly raised his neck toward her, responding affirmatively.
He had never been skilled at lying. Fabricating falsehoods was not a trait of noblemen. That's what they had told him.
"What did I tell you about mingling with that woman?" She exhaled sharply, the anger in her eyes barely concealing her discontent, an end that was dangerously close—there was no acceptable way to escape this impending moment quickly.
"She and her sister are not the kind of people you should associate with. You are the son of Marquis Leivrent, Louis. Your place is among etiquette and roses."
"It no longer means anything to me, and I am not a bankrupt fool, Grandma," he interrupted her with a decisive tone. She pursed what remained of her tired lips, giving him a reproachful look that did not waver as he reached out and held her hands gently.
"I received a private invitation, and if I don't attend, it will be an insult to me. You didn't raise me to be a man who disregards others. Just one hour, and I will be here."
The old lady found no strong words to counter the statements that had cemented her rigid stance. She knew she could not stop him, as he had firmly decided to go. With his final response, he had closed the door to discussion, argument, and persuasion.
"Come on, Sparrow! There won't be any of that fine wine left for us!"
Harold shattered the thick silence that had descended upon the house, leaning casually on the stair railing, his sharp features observing Louis's grandmother as she frowned while her lips quivered in disapproval.
"Your life will remain in utter chaos." The reckless young man sent his words toward her, his breath fuming with defiance. She exhaled deeply, withdrawing her palm, leaving Louis behind as she walked away. A heavy stone had just been lifted from his shoulder.
He clenched his jacket tightly in his fist and quickly descended the stairs to Harold, who stood hesitantly at the edge. His luxurious burgundy suit and dark, wavy hair rested gracefully on one side of his forehead, his playful smirk barely masking the cunning in his eyes.
"I was afraid you'd abandon me and not come to the party, so I decided it was best to take you myself."
Harold smiled radiantly, met by Louis's cold expression, as they walked together outside, heading toward the other side of the house. As the grand doors of the illuminated mansion opened, dazzling chandeliers of candlelight shone, accompanied by the triumphant sound of trumpets. The polished floor reflected the presence of guests moving over an illusionary crystal carpet, as if guiding them toward a piece of cloud.
The faraway ceilings glittered like distant constellations, the shadows of candlelight flickering above the heads of the guests—those adorned in elegant fashions and exquisite fabrics, who filled the house with color and excess. Upstairs and below, the extravagant house sprawled with such grandeur that it might leave anyone unacquainted with the aristocratic elite utterly astounded.
"It hasn't even been three weeks since her husband's death, yet she's hosting a lavish ball without the slightest regard."
"I've heard she throws this party every month to see if any man will capture her attention again."
"…Ah! My dear noble Lord Eddin was once granted the title by Lady Karzanova herself, and that particular title is not one a woman like her gives out lightly."
The whispered chatter of the ladies was within earshot of Louie, who stood next to Harold, who flirted with every young woman's tail that passed by them. He flinched in surprise. These people hadn't come to attend the party or to have some fun. They had come to feast their eyes on this mysterious woman with her strange life and even stranger personality, to have a story to amuse their daily sessions.
full of gossip until the next party.
Hypocrisy, lies, and fake affection.
All those deceptive smiles that hid behind them a disapproving face that despised a woman who lived in different surroundings, far from their traditional climate. A woman he didn't know how beautiful she was to be afflicted with such hatred and fake kindness in her unhappy life.
"Harold," he called his companion softly, interrupting the other from sipping his wine and raving about with his winks in random directions. "What does Seven Palom look like?"
He could imagine her as a woman torn apart by polygamy, making her forty years old instead of just twenty-six. He could paint her face in his mind with the tone of misery he heard in her voice, to picture a sullen lady with a miserable soul.
"Ah, she's nothing special. From my extensive experience with women, let me tell you, she's ugly, with strange features and frightening eyes. Whenever you look at her, you feel repulsion and turn your face away," Harold admitted in an eager whisper close to his ear, his face completely serious, and his eyebrows curled in surprise.
He knew Harry rarely saw an ugly woman and admitted it openly. Perhaps that was why she gave her full face when she was out of the house or in the cemetery where he had met her. For a moment, he felt sympathy for this woman who hadn't been blessed with beauty or luck in this life, until Harold's mischievous laughter His ears .
"I'm totally kidding you. She's a bird of prey."
Louis grimaced in exasperation as Harold leaned against the wall, sipping his drink with relish before his eyelids pulled back in a promising look and his eyebrows rose ever so gently.
"And you can check for yourself."
Louis turned his head in a similar way to his friend's gesture, his eyes throbbing with amazement. Her charms were shaped in the contours of her black dress with mustard stripes and long, wide sleeves that sat next to a tightly cinched waist, in contrast to her flat features with a cheerful smile that betrayed nothing of the sadness surrounding her life
She had joined the party like a gentle mermaid who had descended from an idyllic paradise to steal the candles of attention with her captivating presence. She was not of unique or special beauty. But his previous imagination, along with Harold's teasing talk about her, made that appearance seem alluring compared to what his mind had pictured.
She was, according to Harold, a charming bird.
"If she hadn't been cursed, she wouldn't have delayed a moment in asking for her hand in marriage. Imagine having that beauty and that money in one woman." He felt Harold's warm breath next to his ears, murmuring, but he didn't agree.
He wasn't a supporter of marriage for a purpose other than pure desire, devoid of that material selfishness. This had always made him different next to his reckless friend. Louis never liked deception
He tore his eyes away after a minute as she mingled with the audience in captivating feminine coquetry. It was not a polite thing to look at her for long or explain her details with any obscenity that might end with a description unbecoming of his status or that of his family.
"Mr. Legrent." He had barely indulged in his reverie once more when a young man with blond hair and a radiant face that made looking at his face comfortable appeared, smiling 3
Louie welcomed Ban by shaking his hand. "I'm Simon Palom. I'm honored to have you
at the party tonight!"
"The honor is mine, Mr. Palom."
He seemed a friendly, cheerful young man, unlike the image he had of himself. This was one of the drawbacks of growing up in the arms of a woman like his grandmother. He had grown accustomed to being influenced by what others said before he had a chance to form his own opinion.
"Hello, Harold."
Simon hugged his companion, who smiled with such joy that he presented them as dear friends, despite Harold's previous warning and talk about the blond and his sister;
to be annoyed.
On his face, he smiled with all generosity and love, but behind his back, he spat poison with his words, creating an ugly image of himself that set the claws of suspicion in the heart of his listener. Those cunning and fake masks repelled him
"Louis, please allow me to call you Louis. I wanted to thank you for your kindness yesterday morning and giving my sister a ride home. That was incredibly kind of you." Simon expressed gratitude, which Louis met with a genuine smile. He was polite and cordial, earnest in a sea of deceit.
"I was very honored to do this."
"Simone, what are you doing?"
The body shuddered at that English accent, that soft voice with its distinctive hoarseness, and that tall shadow wrapped in black entering the conversation with its still face and drawn eyes that attracted most of the attention.
"Siggin! I was thanking Monsieur Legrent for his kindness!" Simon's tone was filled with pleasure and eagerness, which he displayed pleasantly in the face of his sister's cold stare and speaking scowl. "I have the tongue to do this myself. I go greet the guests."
The moment stung with embarrassment, Simon smiled weakly and excused himself, leaving his sister to turn to meet Louis and Harold, who watched the situation with confusion, which she broke with a forced, welcoming smile.
"Mr. "Leighrent. Glad you were able to make it tonight." His smile reflected against the pale back of her hand as he kissed it gently, admiring the irises of her eyes, as green as spring meadows covered in winter snow.
"I am most delighted to meet you, my lady." She smiled and turned to greet Harold without meeting his flirtatious glances, silently embarrassing Louis from his companion's reckless behavior. He continued drinking glass after glass, sharing some delicious wine with him, enjoying the atmosphere of the party after the charming lady of the party disappeared into the crowd
"So, what do you think of Mrs. Sigin Pallum?" Harold's hissing voice trailed off beside his ear, making him shudder, turning his attention with still, wine-drenched eyes, and pursed lips. "Very pleasant."
Harold stepped back, a hint of innuendo in his eyelids. "Reputation aside, she's a beautiful bird that's a shame to let fly." He sipped gently at his wine, looking at Louie from behind the glass, a look of incomprehension crossing his blue eyes. "What do you mean..."
"Wow, wow, wow... look who's here."
Every other sound around the two solitary figures froze as that thick throat joined the wide shadow that forced their attention against it, facing a plump, russet-faced figure adorned with a trimmed beard and a body that had just acquired a tummy A little.
They were face to face with the biggest and worst horse dealer in the kingdom." . Zain Aron "
" Mr. Aron " . Louis clenched his jaw sharply. Standing in front of the one to whom he owed his house a mortgage was too humiliating. He couldn't understand any convincing reason why his father would mortgage the family home to anyone other than a lowly horse dealer.
Zane placed his cigarette between his lips and met Louis's cold gaze with a haughty one. "It's nice to have you home after your father's death, Louis. He's caused so much trouble in your absence, and we're waiting for you to put it right. Or do you see yourself like him, quarreling and not solving?"
"I'm not my father, Mr. Aron . I can assure you." Louis replied tersely, clenching his fists with a fury he struggled to keep from appearing to the imagination and satisfying his ego.
Zane smiled provocatively, blowing the thick smoke of his tobacco in the air his presence rattled, and shook his head. We'll see about that. See you in two months, Louis. How I'd love The meeting should be before that."
Zayn left, his tails clinging to Louis's angry gaze and his breath coming in heavily as he tried to swallow this unwanted encounter that had completely served its purpose in provoking his anger. He felt Harold pat his shoulder, so he turned around to meet the remaining shreds of consciousness with his eyes scanning him. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just need to get some air. Where's your tin of tobacco?"
Louis patted Harold's pockets, who was sitting comfortably, sipping his wine and continuing his low flirting until he pulled out a cigarette with a silver lighter, withdrawing through the crowd toward one of the wide, open balconies where the scent of jasmine fluttered softly in the winter wind .
He lit the edge of the scroll, blowing smoke rings into the still atmosphere that hung over the garden, where its pots were adorned with jasmine and lily trees, with the moonlight gently perpendicular to the freshness of its petals, which swayed to a sweet symphony spun by a flock of nightingales that passed by the horizon He felt his mule slip away, though this didn't diminish his hatred of the horseman, Haroun. He didn't know what had happened to his father so lately that he would resort to the worst person in the kingdom to sign a petition to mortgage the house so easily. He didn't even understand the madness that had possessed him to bankrupt them so easily.
And all that fooling around was an unbearable burden on his shoulders.
"What do you think?"
His focus was suddenly pulled from watching the overcast sky by whispers approaching as two shadows stretched from the east between the garden drawn on the rocky path. His eyes followed their approaching path without raising his resting torso from the balcony railing .
"My answer is no, Mr. Nicholas." Sigin Palom's coolly calm voice stood out from the conversation just before the two adjacent shadows appeared in his view, confirming his suspicion. The blonde was accompanying the publisher, Arthur Nicholas, who was showing her a small box containing a ruby ring that glinted in the moonlight.
They stopped near a jasmine bush, a clear frame for Lowe, who watched her expression, which didn't waver an inch, as the publisher's deep sigh of despair was heard in the silence.
"Sigin, how long are you going to object to marrying me?"
"It's disgraceful of you to ask this of me when my husband, Arthur, died only weeks ago." She scowled, her face twisting, and the publisher took both of her fists in his hands, warmly.
"I like you, Sigin. I want you."
The man's emotional statement didn't seem to greatly affect the lady, who remained calm, although she didn't push the publisher away as he approached, pressing their lips together without waiting for her permission , She was like an idol in Louis's eyes, who followed the scene with a suddenly calm serenity, watching the man's path creeping towards her neck with a passion that did not touch her glassy eyes that shone with a lunar green as they moved slowly to collide with his watching blue ones, so she remained still.
His position did not break them. Their eyes rested on their opposite paths in a mysterious silence that was treasured with many confined conversations. The foolish publisher did not notice the presence of another party as he satisfied a temporary desire that that suspicious woman had simply granted him, and without any shame, she allowed there to be a third witness to that moment.
She was calm despite knowing that he had found out about her little secret and her suspicious relationship with the publisher. He was steadfast with her revelation that he had watched her kiss and embrace another man with the mourning of her husband. It was as if she had known he was there the whole time and did not care
The ghost of a sideways smile flicked across her rosy lips as he exhaled his tobacco with extreme relaxation. He may not have had many relationships in his life, but he was sure that this woman was definitely not his type.
The moon bore witness to that strange night, and the wind played with his coquettishly fluttering hair as Louis stood on his doorstep after ten o'clock at night, miserably supporting Harold on his shoulder. The latter was so drunk he couldn't even stand on his feet for long You'll spend the night here, Harold. Pray he doesn't leave my grandmother like this,' he muttered heavily as he removed his key from the handle of the opened door, facing the dark hallway except for a single lamp that never shut off at night.
He was like a voyeur as he fought to bring his hallucinating friend into his room without making a sound that might wake the lady of the house, who would not only scold him for being late to bed, but also bring his reckless companion into the house in this state 6 Without making a sound that might wake the lady of the house, who would not only scold him for being late to bed, but also for bringing his reckless companion into the house in this state.
He had barely set foot on the first step when he was surprised by Harold's skeleton rising from him to lie down along the third step, relaxed under Louie's suspicious gaze as he shook him violently.
"No, no, no. Harold's not here! Get up! This isn't the bed!"
"I'm just going to rest for five minutes." Harold muttered languidly, his consciousness clouded by the darkness of alcohol that overcame him, leaving him flat on the stairs, ignoring Louie's constant shaking or his aggrieved whispers.
"...Harold... get up! If Grandma sees you like this, she'll..."
"Louie."