"Stupid, bird brained, sap skulled, foolish..." Damian muttered as he ripped petals off from the sad, wilted, cyan rose.

"You don't have much appreciation for beauty, do you?" A melodic voice interrupted his carnage.

"Now is not the time, Bea," He snarled at Lady Beatrix who ignored the warning and promptly sat down next to him on the marble bench. Her face glittered like a thousand suns in the moonlight and even in his anger Damian could not help but appreciate the view.

"Why are you sulking in the corner like a wounded tiger, again," Beatrix eyed him with disdain. She gently pulled the rose away from his tight grip.

"Have I ever done anything, anything to ever frighten you?" Damian asked with his voice pitched in a smooth growl. His fingers pressed into his palms leaving painful crescents on them.

Lady Beatrix sneered at his audacity to ask such a question, "No, you're too dim and I know you too well. You're the lightening that never strikes. Besides it's my temper you should fear not the other way around."

"Fine, fine," Damian hissed, "but what about all the other girls. Have they ever given you any indication that they find me beastly?"

"Love, they're petrified of you but you smile so convincingly that they dream themselves capable of taming the wild beast inside of you. They should know better," Beatrix laughed hollowly catching Damian off guard but he shook his head trying to focus on his current worry.

"So, it's possible I might have wronged someone enough to have them bear a grudge against me," Damian slouched.

Beatrix sighed, "Damian, you offend people on a daily basis. It would take me hours nay days to recount everyone whom you've somehow offended in some way or the other. Take that girl you insulted that night-"

"Has every busybody from the east to the west heard about the incident I only vaguely remember? It's excruciatingly annoying," Damian cut her off.

Beatrix stoked her silken hair unconsciously, "You couldn't have chosen a more public venue to get foxed; seriously I thought you could hold your liquor better. At least you didn't make a scene in the middle of the dance floor."

Damian cringed as he remembered from his blinkered vision how he wanted to pull the girl up to the dance floor. He was glad the girl had the strength in her to stop him in his tracks. Damian sighed and decided to change the train of conversation.

"Where were you today? Why is everyone so determined that all my efforts at hosting these events go to naught," Damian ranted. The last remaining guests were mingling amongst each other, enjoying the light breeze. Drunken laughs could be heard combined with the tinkering of glass from time to time.

"I was busy, you self centered pigeon. Your ego is such a deranged daemon. I am glad I can never be your wife for I would have to spend most of my married life trying to appease that infernal monster inside you," Beatrix sneered almost viciously.

"So, that answers it, doesn't it? You would never have married me even if I had offered for you," Damian's lip curled as his ego was bruised even further.

"Yes, that answers your question. There can only be one sword in a scabbard," Beatrix crossed her arms and looked away. Damian wanted to follow her example but felt himself too weary to be petty. He felt too upset that all his planning had gone to waste. He had meticulously combed the castle and the gardens for signs of the girl without success so he had spontaneously decided to hold an event that the girl could not refuse to attend. Of course Damian managed to bungle that as well.

"My mother in Law keeps looking in our direction with such a horrified expression. She seems to think everything I do is some great affront to all of propriety and heavens above. It is decidedly not my fault her son decided he was wooed by my beauty and charm. I need to pacify her so excuse me for walking off from our charming discussion," Beatrix announced sourly.

Damian grunted and he was left surrounded with his friend's perfume still mingling in the air.

___________________________________________________________

Delilah flung her blood stained glove on her bed the moment she walked in.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." Delilah muttered to herself as she paced in her room. Her mind was a frenzy of emotion. The one emotion that was on top of her mind was the wretched humiliation she pushed upon herself. Cecilia was safely in the company of their friends so Delilah had taken the opportunity to escape using her minor injury as an excuse with as much dignity as possible. It was poor form for a chaperon to abandon her charge in such a fashion but Delilah knew their friends were a sensible lot who would bring her cousin back safely.

Her body thrummed with the feeling of her failure to control herself.

She was not afraid of him; Not exactly. He didn't intimidate her or frighten her like a storm or wild animal would. She was more frightened of feeling that she was going to fall apart into tiny pieces in front of him like a wet clay doll.

She was the reserved Delilah; the responsible and serene Delilah. She was the Delilah who could feel content no matter how adverse the situation. All of a sudden she was behaving like a wet goose. These new emotions frustrated her to no end.

This urge to fall apart was an old wound that never really filled out in all these years. She had rationalized her thoughts and feeling three years ago in a sensible fashion. She knew forcing an unwanted bride on Prince Damian was as unfair as the time when her mother tried to wed her off to a count twice her age. So she had resigned to her fate and felt proud of herself for being so levelheaded.

Now, she was a mixture of feelings that wrought her; self pity and anger. She wanted to wallow in her own misery but a touch of pride would not allow her to.

Delilah looked at herself in the mirror and was sickened by the weak girl in front of her. Her hands were trembling as if she were still outside braving the cool weather. Delilah swallowed and made a promise to herself. She was going to be strong; strong for her own wilting pride and self esteem; Strong for Cecilia who was suffering because of Delilah's inadequacies.

Delilah's thoughts were suddenly assaulted by her conversations that evening. She remembered what Mary had announced and what the Prince had said to her. She wondered whether these two conversations were connected.

Did the Prince actually want to develop a more intimate friendship with her Cecilia?

"Maybe that was why he offered his truce," Delilah wondered.

_________________________________________________________________

The very next the young chaperon took another one of her favourite walks and found the person she was looking for. This early in the morning all the panic of the evening had washed away into a bearable throb. 

"Is there an herb that can give us courage?" Delilah asked, munching on her apple. She enjoyed the breeze that lifted the curls on her nape every time it went by. The weather was pleasant and her company exceptional so her mood was far calmer than last night.

Jeeves chuckled as he laid out a plant specimen for her to examine. Delilah placed her apple and book to one side so she could inspect it.

"It's an aloe vera plant, but will it ever grow in this habitat?" Delilah poked and prodded the plant curiously, having never seen one before and only read about them in books.

"Reading doin' yeh good, eh? We're trying to cultivate it on this mountain. Good for em wounds and burns and stuff and about yer other question; Can' say miss, though I'd try a bit of good old port might do teh trick."

Delilah wrinkled her nose. "I'd rather brave my worst nightmare than get foxed and tipsy. Getting sloshed is going to take me nowhere."

"Found me courage to propose teh missus after a good round at the local tavern," Jeeves replied.

"And she said yes," Delilah asked curiously.

"Course, after she slapped me soundly. Can't understand women," Jeeves sighed.

"And I can't understand men," Delilah murmured.

"And yeh new found search for confidence has something to do with men, eh?" Jeeves smirked mischievously.

"No," Delilah blurted, then paused and continued hesitantly, "Maybe but my reasons encompass more. I am not a lover of change; I despise it and yet I have realized the importance of it and have gone deliberately out of the way to improve myself. It seems like it is time again to alter myself and bring some courage in my life. I lack it tremendously."

"Don't dread change cause it's alterin' yerself. Think of it as bringing somethin' out from yerself. Confidence ain't nothing but teh belief in yourself, right? Yeh belief in yerself?"

"Of course," Delilah replied softly.

"Then yeh ain't changing at all. Yer confidence is an innate thing. Just let teh belief in yerself free."

Delilah nodded and considered the man's words.

_______________________________________________________

"Keep your head high and bow," Mary instead stepped onto her feet and Delilah hid a grimace. Dinner was to commence in about an hour but Delilah had secretly rushed out with Mary so they could practice the new steps Mary was failing miserably at.

"My mother will be so displeased if I don't make a good impression on Lord Richmond tonight. The man always asks me for a dance each evening but I know he only does it out of politeness. He is one of my brother's friends, you see," Mary was distracted again and nearly stumbled as she twirled with an imaginary partner. The dance required at least two couples and involved many intricate moves while exchanging partners. Delilah was pretending to be Mary's partner currently swirling with the imaginary couple.

"There, there, Mary. Try again without fretting so. I know you know the steps now," Delilah stabilized Mary whose cap was dislodged from her head in spite of the wealth of pins wedged in her head by her maid.

"I fear I shall break Lord Richmond's back with my incessant tripping," Mary half sobbed as she placed her cap back n her head.

"Don't tell me you have given up already, Mary," Isabella rolled her eyes as she joined them with her hair hanging loose in a fetching fashion.

"You look lovely," Delilah beamed at her friend, "Now, let us start from beginning?" Delilah announced as she looked around before asking Isabella, "Did you meet Cecilia before you came here?"

"I left her in her suite moaning about her hair. Silky, smooth they did not become after the new fangled oil treatment," Isabella muttered.

Delilah sighed, "What will I do with that girl. Oh, well, we're a partner short but we might manage. Mary and Isabella you two face each other and I shall lead with my imaginary friend, Lord Air."

The two girls giggled when Delilah asked them to bow to each other.

"This is so frightfully odd," Mary held one of Isabella's gloved hands.

"Well, you're tall enough for me. If I close my eyes I can pretend you're Mr. Dashmond," Isabella smirked as she swayed in her pale pink gown with her eyes closed dreaming about her favourite dance partner.

"That is so unfair. You know Lord Richmond towers over me. I can't possibly imagine him to be you," Mary juggled her fan and reticule.

"Just close your eyes and follow my lead," Isabella replied lost in her world, "The imagination is beyond physical dimensions."

"Is that wise, I don't want us all on the floor in a giant heap," Delilah was skeptical as she straightened her puce coloured gown. It was one from her old set of gowns and it did not sweep the floor as gracefully as some of the others did. Apparently Delilah had gained some height in the past three years.

"Try it for it is such a liberating experience; imagine yourself facing the Lord you've set your eyes upon," Isabella insisted mischievously half hoping Delilah would burst out some dark secret hidden inside her heart.

"I am not enchanted by anyone in this palace, I am far too old for such tomfoolery but I shall give your suggestion a try," Delilah laughed, "Begin, ladies, and remember to not bend your elbows."

She closed her eyes feeling a tad silly. For a moment her mind was blank. She had no partners she wanted to imagine so she tried to see herself in a place she always wanted to visit. She imagined herself standing in long, green grass laid across a rolling landscape. She imagined a grey stormy sky above her, a light breeze and a slight pitter patter of rain all around her.

Delilah bowed once, skipped and reached out for a hand without hesitation. Years of practice of teaching Cecilia how to move in a ball room had allowed her to dance even without her sight. On cue a small satin gloved hand firmly grasped hers and she twirled once and then allowed her partner to twirl. Delilah bowed in her own peaceful world facing nothing even in her imagination.

Delilah bowed again, skipped and held out her hand expecting nothing but air this time around. Her eyes snapped open at the feel of the foreign, larger hand.

She pulled her gloved hand out of the grip and took a step backwards realizing whose blue eyes she was staring into. The Prince's eyes bored into hers and she looked away.

"I did not expect guests to arrive so early," Damian observed drolly as if nothing extraordinary was occurring.

As soon as the words left his mouth Delilah's two companions also paused in their motions. It was comical how they gaped with their eyes wide open. The two girls immediately detangled from each other with Mary doing a near tumble but Delilah caught her hand before anything more humiliating could occur.

Delilah closed her eyes tightly and said a brief prayer.

"Y-Your Highness," Isabella stuttered and bowed. The other two girls followed suit. "We did not expect company."

"I can see that," The Prince's tone was oddly subdued. It was strange for a man so easily inclined to display his flamboyant nature act so guardedly.

"Your cousin is not here," The Prince observed coolly and Mary's hand suddenly tightened its squeeze on her injured hand making Delilah wince, "I rarely see you without her," He addressed Delilah.

"No, your Highness, she has no need for practice when it comes to the cotillion dances organized for tonight," Delilah said, now careful of how she portrayed Cecilia in front of the man. There seemed to be more at stake now.

"Good for her," Damian managed tonelessly. The image of the girl flinching away from him was never out of his thoughts and he was feeling strange especially when the girl in question looked so poised whereas he felt awkward.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her polite expression, "I gather that you are now in good spirits, Lady uh, Del?" The Prince ended the question quizzically looking worried that she might flee from him again. He was not surprised he didn't remember her name. He doubted anyone who was introduced to the amount of Ladies he had to face daily could accomplish such a task.

"Lady Delilah Winsham," Isabella supplied helpfully purposefully ignoring the look her friend gave her.

Delilah felt a pang inside of her at his obvious forgetfulness but smoothly set it aside to encourage herself internally to look up.

'He is not a monster, he is no lunatic. He won't throw porcelain at you and he might just like Cecilia more than any of the other girls in this castle,' Delilah chanted to herself.

She finally strengthened herself and looked up, focusing straight on his face. The world didn't fall apart and neither did the Prince smash a plate on her head though his blue eyes did widen in surprise. "Why yes, Your Highness. I am honoured that you would ask," She replied pleasantly.

"The pleasure is all mine," The brightness in the Prince's voice was palpable to all the occupants in the room.

"Well then, we shall leave, I am sure work awaits you," Delilah hid the tremor in her voice and the pleasure she felt at hiding it buoyed her.

"It is nothing my men cannot take of; besides the dinner will begin soon enough. Why don't we take a seat and enjoy a drink or would you rather continue your dance," He

"We shall be most honoured to enjoy your company any way you choose," Mary squeaked, uncharacteristically bold.

The Prince's lips curved as he considered her words.

"Then you shall be kind enough to excuse my presence for the barest of moments. I shall return with all that we need for our entertainment."

"I told you he has an eye on Cecilia. He's trying to make an impression on us," Mary hissed as her excitement finally exploded as soon as he exited the room, "Why on heavens above would he entertain women he barely knows."

Delilah smiled back feebly, feeling worried about what was to happen next.