5

Albeit trying to avoid the crowd, Violet's presence didn't go unnoticed. Women and men circled around her like sharks wherever she went. The men agonized over all the candor of youth and beauty that were out of reach. The women were in a constant state of awe and envy, not because they weren't rich or noble, but because they weren't Violet Wintour.

The young duchess also possessed the intelligence as sharp as a razor. Not in a dominating way but one wrong move and she would cut you open, leaving a scare of embarrassment. Yet she could melt anyone's heart she deemed worthy with her irresistible charms. No doubt the public worshipped her. The fate had truly been good to this peculiar lass, blessing her with immense wealth, fame and a desirable birthright. Some older aristocrats still had trouble accepting it. 'She is too charming to go down that path, far too charming.'

Inside the manor of Prince Sebastian, his honorable guests were spoiled with exquisite dinner and a concert that he helped compose with his musicians. Under the gold-gilded ceiling and walls of olive-green lacquer, Violet reclined herself on a red velvet couch, listening to the prince. He was talking endlessly about how he got inspired by Schubert's grace, Chopin's beautiful sorrows, and the mighty harmonies of the great Beethoven himself.

After the concert, the host was thankfully swiped away by his other noble friends. Violet was able to breathe again. She left the hall reeked of cigar smoke for some fresh air and found herself in the garden. She wondered where Florence was but would rather have a moment of solitude to herself. She just hoped that no more self-absorbed lords or ladies trying to introduce themselves to her again. It was getting laborious pretending that she cared.

But the moment of peace was short-lived. Someone's footsteps were coming towards her, and she let out an inward sigh.

"Long time, no see, Your Grace," a familiar voice spoke up. Violet turned to face the owner of the voice. A girl her age with auburn hair stood in her stunning v-neck lace dress. The rose-colored sheer detailing made her alabaster skin and proportional frame even more pronounced.

"Eleanor?" Violet tilted her head in surprise.

Eleanor smiled then her emerald eyes beckoned for a passing waiter. The waiter came forward with a tray of vintage wine. He bowed and proffered them the drink. Once he left, an uncomfortable silence engulfed the atmosphere. Eleanor kept watching the duchess with a subtle sense of pleasure. How different she was now from the shy, frightened girl she had met a lifetime ago. Her true nature had bloomed like a flower, bearing colors of scarlet flame.

Eleanor took a small sip of her drink and smiled.

"Are you here alone?"

"No," Violet said. "I'm with a friend."

"A friend?" Eleanor repeated the word with a glint in her eyes.

"Yes," the young duchess answered nonchalantly, but a slight look of annoyance graced her otherwise refined features.

"Oh," Eleanor breathed and nodded. Then she gave an outward smirk. "I assume you don't mind having another companion tonight?"

"Depends," said Violet, drinking the yellowish beverage in one swig. Eleanor looked at her as if contemplating whether to ask for more elaboration or wait. When Violet didn't bother giving her any, a crimson blush threatened to rush up to her neck. She knew the Duchess still hadn't forgotten.

"Well, if you truly want to be alone, then I must respect your wish," she said, lowering her gaze to the ground. Eleanor twirled herself away slowly when there was no response, but then she turned back. "It's just depressing to see you and not talking to you, Violet."

Surprisingly, the Duchess laughed, and the sound of it hanging like melodies in the night air.

"What are you doing here, Eleanor, I thought you were still in Geneva," she said. The auburn-haired woman eyed for the nearby waiter again then rose her empty glass as a signal. The waiter hurriedly came to take their glasses away. The presence of people filling out into the garden forced Eleanor to glance around for an escape. She found an isolated corner of the garden, surrounded by evergreen topiaries.

"Let's move over there so we can talk in private," she said and took Violet by the hand before the stiff-standing Duchess could say a word.

They went past the stretching hedge wall and came to a stop under a magnolia tree. The tree was in full bloom, leaving off a perfumed scent. Eleanor turned to look at Violet with gleaming eyes. She looked like she was going to burst into tears at any minute.

"I've missed you," she whispered. "How are you, Violet?"

"How's your husband?" Violet asked back. "What would he think of you being here?"

"I don't care what he thinks," Eleanor hissed but then lowered her eyes. "We are in a period of separation."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Violet said, looking indifferent. Eleanor bit her vermillion lips, her eyes glistened with tears. Then she stepped forward and pushed the young duchess against the tree. With her hands grabbing Violet's face, Eleanor kissed her fiercely and desperately. Several confused heartbeats later, they pulled away from each other's mouth. Violet stared at the other girl with wide eyes.

"Not a single day has passed that I didn't think about you," Eleanor confessed in a trembling voice. "I had to come and see you again. I just couldn't bear living a lie anymore."

"Well, no one asked you to," Violet spat back and pushed the girl off her. Eleanor stumbled away, looking shocked and devastated. "You were only there when it was just fun and game, but when things got real, you bailed."

The Duchess turned around to leave when Eleanor cried to her.

"Violet, why didn't you put yourself in my shoes and see how hard it was for me?!"

Violet stopped but didn't look back.

"I did," she said. "And I could see that you had a lot of feelings to sort out. You should've done that instead of messing with mine."

Then she walked off.