Cavendish House, London | 18**s
The Dukedom of Cavendish is renowned for its unwavering loyalty and profound connection to the crown. Their family's support for the King has been written in history and continues to be honored to this day and for perpetuity. Their family was bestowed with the title of Dukedom, establishing them as one of the kingdom's most affluent families—making every member of this family a target for noble families who were seeking marriage and power. Not to mention that the Cavendishes were all pleasing to the eye. Charismatic, beaming with grace and wit—truly befitting their noble title.
The Cavendish house is located near the heart of London. Although most of the houses in London are quite small—for Cavendish standards, that is—the Cavendish house was known for its large interior and exterior. Their sole house is equivalent to multiple aristocratic houses in size. A ball held in such a magnificent house can never be missed by the ton, especially when the widowed Duchess invites prestigious and wealthy families on every occasion. A perfect event for mamás to seek marriage opportunities for their offsprings among noble bachelors and eligible young ladies.
The Cavendish House ballroom was quite a sight. From the huge wooden double doors with golden details that welcomed attendees to the shiny white marble floors to the golden candle sconces on the walls that illuminated the whole room. Two big crystal chandeliers hung from the curved ceiling, adorned with an exquisite rectangular painting of angels in the middle, while multiple smaller paintings were at the side of the curve. The whole room was enamored with golden details, a befitting design for a ducal family.
Today was a rather pleasant day for the Cavendish as the eldest daughter—Letitia Cavendish—after seven long years in society—is celebrating her engagement with her betrothed, Viscount Wellington. It was a love match, they say. The lovebirds were often seen promenading around Winston Park, almost every day of the week. The ton was not surprised by the albeit sudden marriage proposal by the esteemed viscount after just a month of his return from Ireland.
"I would've never expected Letie to be married. I thought she'd be a spinster," whispered Percy, the third out of five Cavendish children. He was holding a wine glass in his right hand while his left elbow rested on a standing table.
Ulric—the current duke and the eldest among the Cavendish—looked over to where his sister was. She was dancing with her betrothed, her eyes shining with utmost happiness, competing with the bright lights around her. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. Ulric was almost afraid that his sister's mouth would tear if it got any wider than it was.
"She rejected multiple proposals. She was probably waiting for Viscount Wellington all these years," Finian, the second son next to Ulric, chipped in before popping a cherry-flavored puff into his mouth.
"She will never admit that. Knowing how hard headed she is.", answered Finian.
Their peaceful conversation was interrupted when a crowd of beautiful ladies whom are all fanning their bossoms suddenly appeared in front of them, blocking their view of their sister dancing with her betrothed. The three Cavendish gentlemen simultaneously cleared their throats and earnestly greeted the ladies with their predatorial mamás.
They were all talking over each other, so much so that it was hard to hear what they were trying to say as clearly as one might desire. Such a situation was not new for the three Cavendish gentlemen. All of them are considered the most eligible bachelors in the ton. As if moths to flames, these ladies in society cannot seem to stop themselves from getting near the gentlemen. Marriage to one secures their family for centuries, even millennia.
"My deepest apologies, ladies. I must attend to something important. My brothers, Finian and Percy, shall entertain you." Ulric left the crowd as fast as light travels.
He heard disappointed sighs behind his back, but they were immediately replaced by excited murmurs as they turned their attention to the remaining Cavendish gentlemen in front of them. Finian and Percy tried to get away from the clutches of the ladies. Much to their disappointment, they were surrounded by eager admirers.
He made his way through the crowd, greeting all of those who struck small conversations until he reached where his mother, Margarette Cavendish, and his youngest sister, Antoinette Cavendish, were standing while conversing with the Bennets.
Ah, the Bennets. Renowned for their perfume business expanding from London through Scotland.
His mother was holding his sister's arm who definitely did not hide her boredom and exasperation.
"Oh! My son! Come. Let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. We were just talking about you. What a nice timing!.", his mother squealed.
Ulric plastered on his business smile. He extended his arm and reached for Mr. Bennet's hand for a shake. "Mr. Bennet," he said, shaking his hand. He turned to his wife, Mrs. Bennet, who was wearing an odd shade of purple with a pink-detailed dress and large feathers on her head, and kissed the back of her hand. "Mrs. Bennet, I'm Ulric Cavendish, Duke of Norwich. Thank you for celebrating with us." he greeted.
Mr. Bennet nodded, "I brought gifts for the newly bethrothed—an unreleased scent series from our perfume line, Your Grace. Fine new scents for a fine lady."
A business proposal. Mr. Bennet was never the gentleman to beat around the bush. He'll be expecting a letter from the Bennets anytime soon.
"That's wonderful!.", his mother smiled. She tapped her daughter's arm. "I heard you have a son, yes?.", Margarette's sudden statement left Antoinette's jaw ajar. She looked at her brother for help and mouthed, "Please, brother".
Ulric is the head of the dukedom, that's correct. But his mother, is their mother. Ulric almost shivered at the thought of his mother's attention being shifted to his own bachelor life. He averted his eyes from his sister and cleared his throat.
Aw!
Antoinette's foot found itself on top of Ulric's boots. He clenched his jaw and stopped a grimace from forming on his face.
"I apologize for I shall leave you all be for a pressing matter that I need to attend to.", he swiftly stated whilst bidding the Bennets proper goodbyes as a gentleman should. Antoinette was making threatening faces to his way but he ignored her and strode away from the crime scene.
He exited the ballroom through one of the open arched doors leading to a horizontal hallway where another door—smaller than the double doors was at the very end. It leads to an open area where a newly constructed white gazebo was located.
"Haaa...", he exclaimed, letting out the heavy breath he did not know he was holding.
These past few days have been very busy for the duke. That damn Viscount Wellington. They grew up together in Norwich. Heck, he hated Letitia's gut when they were nothing but children and now he asked her to marry him. That snake was moving under his nose and he had no ounce of idea. He kicked an unaware pebble out of his way as he strode towards the gazebo.
This area was quiet compared to the garden on the other side of the hall. As he was about to sit on one of the chairs, he heard a rustling sound. He stopped in the middle of sitting and walked slowly towards the sound.
Sounds like whispers?
Ulric stopped in his tracks. Of course, he knows what this is. A rendezvous by hot blooded nobles who are full of heat, basking in the excitement of releasing their inner selves behind the judging eyes of society.
He turned around. He does not want to do anything about this. In worse case scenario, he can be pulled into this scandal and he does not want that.
"Ugh! Ahh! Ump!"
A moan?
"Greg, wait! Stop. Not right here please. Someone might see us!.", a too familiar voice whispered in the dark. Ulric knows this voice, he knows it too well.
His eyebrows scrunched as he looked back to the bushes where he heard the voice. His body half facing the bush.
"Anna! Please. Just a minute more. I missed you so. You know that you're the one I love. Ah!.", another familiar voice. Ulric's head became filled with racing thoughts.
Confusion, disbelief, then comes anger. Hot. Red. Anger.
Gregory Wellington!
In two large strides he reached the bushes where he surely heard the voices. He does not care if they're naked as the day they were born. His head was filled with rage.
And lo and behold, he saw them. Viscount Wellington atop of Anna Smith, Letitia's very own lady in waiting for God knows how many years.
The scums were not aware that he discovered their disgusting secret. Wellington was moving his hips like a frantic maniac while Anna was moaning and groaning under him.
Without further ado, Ulric pulled Gregory away from the tenacious maid who let out a squeak of surprise. Her eyes wide in shock and mouth agape. Ulric looked at her with eyes filled with hatred and disgust. She gathered her clothes, trying to cover her exposed body.
"Wellington you fucking son of a harlot!", Ulric shouted as his fist greets Wellington's face. The latter stumbled, held his face, and sat on the ground.
"I-I...Ulric, I c-can explain!."
The damned bastard had the guts to talk!
Fist after fist. Ulric does not have an ounce of care even if he killed this bastard at this very moment.
How dare this bastard spat flowery words at my sister all the while screwing her little maid behind all our backs?
The thought only made Ulric much angrier. His punches getting faster and faster.