A small part of him worried, as all children who have taken their own side against their parent’s better judgment do, if he was still welcome. There were worse things he could have done, of course, but in that moment of uncertainty he could not find any. He should not have worried if he knew the truth of things, that no matter what he might do he would always be his mother’s son.

—|| Excerpt, Book 1 ||—

Unsure how else to answer, Frederic nodded.

“Allow me to impart a, shall we say a more proper manner of addressing a difficult conversational topic,” she said.

“Please,” Frederic breathed in relief.

Lady Constance turned to the tray that Mister Everwitt had brought in. She lifted the pot with an elegant hand and inclined her head towards him as she asked, “Tea?”

—|| Excerpt, Book 1 ||—

“In this business, I shall decidedly not require the services of a so-called bounty hunter, Motterly,” she said in a firm tone. “Whatever my opinion of the man in question, I shall not have my family’s business the bustle of an alehouse. I require the assistance of someone with an understanding of discretion.”

“In truth, Madame, I thought of something in such a subtle vein. A skiptrace, perhaps, or an inquiry agent. I have known a few of them to be of… a better mien than their coarser fellows.”

—|| Excerpt, Book 2 ||—

belladarkwood

Dialogue Excerpt - 2/?

belladarkwood:

“May I not be judged, if I judged I must be, on my actions rather than the words of my detractors? Am I less deserving of such consideration than a woman might be in my same situation?”

This story is, at times, very challenging for me to write. (It is a very good thing I am in love with it, or I might walk away.) This morning I added an element that will likely get edited out of the final draft, but that I felt compelled to insert into the story because it’s something that I’m comfortable with. I keep writing this story because of things like this quote. I’d love to say more about the content of the story, but it’s just too nascent to expose. Suffice it to say that Frederic has every reason to ask this question, and I am very interested in the answer he gets back.

Unfortunately for Frederic, I don’t think he will like the reply.

Reblogging this over.


He marveled at her there, alive and breathing beside him, but could find no words. The only sound came from their footsteps on the stone and the gentle tap of her cane that accompanied her gait as they headed down towards the pier where the Gallant was docked.
"Come now," she said, "we will miss the tide."
He stopped mid-stride, and for a moment she continued on without him.
"I thought you had been killed," he said, loosing the anger that threatened to overtake his relief at her return.
She stopped and turned towards him. For a moment she was silent, and he searched her expression for any measure of remorse. Before he could make his assessment, she spoke.
"I would never leave you behind,” she said. A warm smile curved her lips and she offered him her hand.
He hesitated, unsure he ought take it.
Her expression sobered, and her fingers twitched. “You must know that.”
She was still the same woman he had known, then, despite the bruises and the rough sheering off of her hair. His love looked back at him in her concerned eyes. He took her hand, relishing the warm grip that enfolded his. “I… do,” he said.

He marveled at her there, alive and breathing beside him, but could find no words. The only sound came from their footsteps on the stone and the gentle tap of her cane that accompanied her gait as they headed down towards the pier where the Gallant was docked.

"Come now," she said, "we will miss the tide."

He stopped mid-stride, and for a moment she continued on without him.

"I thought you had been killed," he said, loosing the anger that threatened to overtake his relief at her return.

She stopped and turned towards him. For a moment she was silent, and he searched her expression for any measure of remorse. Before he could make his assessment, she spoke.

"I would never leave you behind,” she said. A warm smile curved her lips and she offered him her hand.

He hesitated, unsure he ought take it.

Her expression sobered, and her fingers twitched. “You must know that.”

She was still the same woman he had known, then, despite the bruises and the rough sheering off of her hair. His love looked back at him in her concerned eyes. He took her hand, relishing the warm grip that enfolded his. “I… do,” he said.