Katherine sat hunched over her desk, writing at a fever pitch, ink practically flying off of the tip of her quill and onto the pages of the notebook. She had stowed her personal journal in a drawer of the desk, afraid that she'd dwell on events in her own life rather than penning new fanciful stories for her characters. Her handwriting had quickly become messy in her hurry to write down everything she could muster; she'd barely left her room since the previous afternoon after her encounter with Eward in the park.
He did not love the scullerymaid. But he was in love. Oh, what a story that made if Katherine twisted it in the right fashion. The fickle nature of men's affections. But her ideas were blurry and none seemed to work; perhaps her mind was getting the better of her. If he did not love the maid, then who did he love? If he loved at all? Was love his way of expressing extreme lust? Devotion? Her back ached from all of the writing, her hand in pain, her eyes sore, and her heart heavy.
"Miss Katherine!" she heard the butler call from the foyer, and Katherine rose, stretching her arms above her head. "Miss Katherine, a Lord Mountford-Miles to see you!" Katherine glanced at the clock against the wall; it was late, and her mother and Miles had been gone at least an hour, if not two. Her heart leapt; Eward had not only followed her instructions, but actually followed through on his own intention to call upon her.
"Just a moment!" Katherine, in a frenzy, hurried to the full-length mirror, straightening her dress. It was a house dress of simple cream muslin, but not unflattering, and Katherine pulled the elegant plum Indian robe off the wall that had been a gift from her father, sliding it onto her body. She left the room, descending the stairs with grace, eager to see what had possessed Eward to visit her at such an hour, preparing herself for if it was negative news of Lysander's activities, or his sisters'.
But it was not Eward who awaited her in the foyer. In what might have been his place stood someone else, though not much of a departure from her expected guest. "Lysander," Katherine breathed, her voice catching in her throat.