Author’s Notes:-
DISCLAIMER:- I own nothing of BTVS it all belongs to Mutant Enemy and the God Joss, however I do like to take some of his babies out for a walk and show them some new sights. This story is not for profit but for enjoyment only. For this fiction I receive nothing but the delight of walking the halls with a few of my heroes.
Hi Folks. My story is set in the English Regency era with the date about 1815. The story revolves around the son of a penniless Duke (William a.k.a. Spike) and a rich debutante who is also the daughter of a Duke (Elizabeth a.k.a. Buffy). Elizabeth is of a mind to marry for love and William is just as sure that he needs to marry for money. William is determined to hold on to his mistress of 10 years, Lady Drusilla Angelus, and although attracted to his intended he is sure he can love only Drusilla. Will Buffy remove Spike from Drusilla’s clutches or will he return again to the arms of his Dark Princess.
This is my first attempt at a fanfic and I would be grateful for any constructive comments. There will be some Spike/Drusilla but this is necessary for the story.
This story will be very NC-17 from early in the story. IF YOU ARE NOT OF AGE PLEASE DO NOT READ.
Chapter 1 - Introductions.
Wondering why she was going through this masquerade was not a new sensation. Each night she dutifully put on her debutante persona without the benefit of the excitement that going to a ball held for young woman of The Ton. An heiress with a dowry of ten thousand a year should find herself a husband easily, but how could she live with a man who would not love her for herself. He would only want what she could hand over at the marriage ceremony to wit money, land and a body.
Lady Elizabeth Ann Summers, daughter of the Duke of Craven stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked at her elaborate hairstyle of blond curls set high on her head threaded with the Craven diamonds and wondered why her parents felt they had to advertise their wealth. Her gown of the palest rose satin overlaid with silver gauze seemed to meld to her body displaying her youthful figure. Pink satin dancing slippers covered her silk-stockinged feet which peeped coquettishly from the bottom of her gown yet still she did not feel beautiful. Elizabeth turned her body to the left and then to the right to check on her appearance and with the wilfulness of her disposition stuck her tongue out at her reflection.
“I do not wish to leave my room tonight” she told her reflection gloomily, “I don’t want to dance with old men who only want to paw at me and stare down my dress”
A knock on her bedchamber door brought back from her musings as she called for her maid to enter.
Willow, her young red-headed abigail, entered Elizabeth’s bed-chamber with a look of awe for her mistress. It never ceased to amaze Willow that her mistress did not appear to realise how beautiful she was. Elizabeth always appeared to be staring at herself, not in vanity, but as if she only saw flaws. Silently sighing to herself Willow asked her mistress if she required any further assistance in getting ready for the ball.
“No thank you Willow, I think that there is nothing more to be done to me this evening” Elizabeth sighed. The young abigail again wondered why her mistress appeared to be sad but she dared not ask.
Willow moved towards the large four-poster bed that dominated the room and lifted the rose pink gossamer lace shawl which accompanied the dress and laid it around her mistress’s shoulders.
“There now miss, all ready?”
“I suppose I am Willow. Do you know if father has invited anyone to join us this evening?” Elizabeth asked with some trepidation. Her father had lately taken up the habit of inviting ‘suitable parti’ to join their sojourns of an evening hoping she would deign to show an interest in marriage. It had become a troublesome habit of his that she wished he would break. All the ‘suitable parti’ were nearer to her father’s age than her own tender eighteen and they all leered at her with their thoughts clearly written on their dissipated features. She hated their knowing looks and their cloying hands and their ideas on fashionable clothing. They usually stank of brandy or port and all had an air of desperation in trying to impress her with their so-called charm.
Each night held the same pattern. Join her father in the Library, meet the ‘suitable parti’, fight them off for the evening and come home with her father alone while said ‘suitable parti’ took themselves off to either their club or their mistress. God she hated the London Season.
Stealing herself together Elizabeth made for the door of her bed-chamber.
“Miss?” Willow shyly asked.
“Yes Willow” Elizabeth replied as she once again turned back into the room.
“His Grace has someone with him in the Library, miss, whom I have not seen before”
“Usually I have never met them before either Willow however after an evening in my most gracious company none return for the pleasure” Elizabeth smiled to herself at this thought. She had over the few months of the season perfected many ways of discouraging her future husbands. Her methods ranged from perfecting a crowing laugh to the absolute no-no of talking with her mouth full of lobster patty while addressing her companion.
Willow looked at her mistress and saw a gleam of pleasure cross her face. Smiling to herself she wondered how Lady Elizabeth would act with this companion this evening. Willow had intended to inform her mistress of the sheer piece of male perfection awaiting her in the Library and with a devilment she did not know she possessed turned to her mistress and smiled shyly. No, Willow thought, let the Lady Elizabeth make up her own mind.
Elizabeth turned once again for the door and looking back at her abigail informed her that she need not wait up this evening as she would be quite able to see herself to bed this evening.
“Yes miss” replied Willow. “I will leave a kettle on the hearth for you so that you have warm water to refresh yourself when you come home”
“Thank you Willow” Elizabeth smiled. “What would I do without you?” Lifting her head high like the aristocrat she was born to be Elizabeth made her way down the long curving staircase towards her father’s library.
She stood for a few seconds outside the door composing her features to be as unattractive as possible in readiness for the ‘suitable parti’ she would meet this evening. Inside her stomach was turning somersaults as she knew that she had to keep up the charade for an entire evening. Goodness, it was far too exhausting.
Elizabeth opened the door to the library with a flourish ready to “La” and “Lud” her way through another boring ball. She strode in like fisherman’s whore making sure she walked without any inherent grace to which she had been born.
Her eyes immediately went to her father’s face as she cried “Father, are we ready to leave yet? I am so in the mood to dance with every beau who asks me” Elizabeth finished off her announcement by trilling her ‘annoying’ laugh that she had perfected knowing that this would annoy both her father and her ‘suitable parti’.
Watching her beloved father grimace in his chair by the fire did not bring her pleasure but she had to keep up this charade or he would marry her off to the first old rake who asked for her hand. Acting the way she did ensured that she kept her un-married status. Elizabeth was determined she would marry for love alone, not money or title.
Suddenly the air in the room seemed to become charged with something she did not understand. She felt the hairs on her arms stand up and the smell of sandalwood and citrus washed over her. Alarmed she started to look around the room for her father’s guest and once her head turned to the left her eyes beheld a vision like she never seen before. Her mouth gaped open and she took a small step back as her eyes looked up towards the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen in a man.
“Hello Pet” the vision mouthed with the most wonderful voice she had ever heard.
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