Viscount North hesitated. Siana spat out the words before he could respond. “I didn’t expect such good news to come,” she said with tears in her eyes, “If My Lord had come bearing this news when my father was alive, he would have been elated. But alas, my father is no more.”
She bawled loudly, and her shoulders shook. She hoped the Viscount had enough shame to take a hint of the situation, otherwise her excessive acting would be in vain.
“Lady Siana,” said an embarrassed Viscount, “I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I have imposed too much on a young lady who has lost her father so very recently. Please forgive my rudeness.”
“You… You mustn’t apologize,” she said, blubbering, tears streaming down her face. “The situation just isn’t easy.”
“Yes, Lady Siana,” said the Viscount, walking over to where she was seated, and patting her shoulders. “You must be heartbroken.” His patting hand slid down her waist and just over her backside. Siana’s skin prickled in an unpleasant way. She wanted to tear his hand off and feed them to the dogs. But she had to convince him to buy some time to figure out a way to pay the debt.
“Lady Siana, you are just so beautiful that I felt greedy,” he said, “You understand how I feel, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she said, blowing her nose in the handkerchief. You slimy arsehole, she cursed inwardly. Her face was distorted, more in anger than the crying. If he looked at her, he would know how she felt about him exactly. But he was busy touching her inappropriately to take any notice.
“It will look bad if we get married so soon after your father’s death,” he said, “How about we wait for two weeks then I will offer again?”
“Really?” snorted Siana, teary-eyed.
“Of course,” he said, patting her back. “I shall be back here after two weeks. In the meantime, focus on getting yourself together, okay?”
“I will do so,” said Siana, “Thank you, My Lord.”
“I will be looking forward to our next meeting,” he said and left the house.
Siana couldn’t shake off the feeling of his hands on her. She felt disgusted and infuriated. “That bastard makes me sick,” she muttered angrily. She could still feel his hands slithering all over her body. She went to the washroom and prepared a bath. But it was useless. Usually, she loved a warm bath which would make her feel soothed afterwards. This time, it did nothing to make her feel better.
What in heavens am I going to do? She despaired. She had used her father as an excuse this time, but she might not be so lucky the next time. She needed to figure out a way to reject the proposal when it came again. Do I really need to marry a man like that? The thought almost made her vomit.
Siana hated Viscount North, but more than that she lamented the situation that she had been dragged into. A sadness fell over her. Perhaps if she had taken Yulia’s advice and married, she would have never fallen into this situation. Thinking about Viscount North made her even more miserable. She wished she could go back in time and shake the young Siana by the shoulders and warn her about this limp-d*ck, old man she would most probably end up with.
How is it that the world doesn’t even have a single decent man? She recalled the many men who had sought her. No one had made her excited. Nobody actually wanted her because they loved her, they were mostly after her father’s wealth and status. There was one who had caught her eye at the time. One of her childhood friends. It had been so long since she had seen him. She couldn’t even remember his face clearly. But she remembered that he had been kind and sweet and handsome, too. She had thought he was a prince.
His name surfaced fleetingly in her mind and then fled. She scrunched her eyebrows, trying to remember him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t conjure his name, only the fact that his name started with the first letter of the alphabet.
What was it? She frowned, thinking. Then it came unbidden to her lips, as though it had always sat there to be uttered at this precise moment. “Alan!” she exclaimed, “That was his name. I am sure of it.”
With the knowledge of his name, came the memories of the past. They had been such good friends. She had been ten. Her father had brought his friend’s son over to their house. They had been introduced at the time. Her father had reminded her to be kind to him because he had nowhere to stay after his father’s death.
Alan had been shy but brutally honest. He also had a pleasant face. The maids found him so sweet that they always showered him with gifts. Her father had mentioned that he looked like his father. Alan had a dream, he wanted to become an officer like his father. Siana had felt sorry for him and liked his shy demeanor. She had offered her friendship, and he had accepted gratefully. Thinking back, perhaps he had accepted to be friends because he was living with her family, nonetheless, she had been glad.
Her happiness had a short span, though. For a person to become an officer, they needed to fulfill two things: first, they should possess powers to handle the guns; second, they had to spend a certain amount of time on the battlefield.
Alan had already fulfilled the first. He had powers needed to wield special guns. He was a remarkable marksman at such a young age. He had to leave to fulfill the second criteria. Siana hadn’t wanted to lose a friend, so she had begged him not to go to the battlefield. But Alan had refused. Siana’s young heart was wounded.
“I hate you,” she had blurted out loudly with tears in her eyes. Her father had explained and consoled her. But was disappointed when Siana refused to listen.
