"What of our families? What will they think?"
"Let us not live for them, let us live for us and our eternal love."
A century-long feud and a forbidden romance.
In which a Sutherland falls
for a Bridgerton, and despite
the cutthroat rivalry between...
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TWO WEEKS PASSED SINCE THE CRAWFORD BALL. Since then, Maisie and Colin had spoken most nights, except for when their presence was required elsewhere. In the whirlwind of passing days, Maisie attended a few social events, all of which were ridden with stolen glances and secret touches in passing. She often found herself searching for his presence as she yearned to see the smile twitching on his lips that she loved oh-so-very much. Each time she spotted him across the ballroom, a smile of her own would spread across her cheeks. Whilst the hours of the day were subject to change, their night hours were a familiar tale. A tale of sweet whispers and soft laughs slipping through the crack in the wall, blessing their ears and caressing their hearts. Colin was the last person she spoke to most nights.
She only wished he would be the first person she spoke to in the morning as well.
Maisie had never been in such a fierce and perpetual state of sheer joy. Of course, her family continued to question her lengthy episode of relentless happiness as well as the growing collection of damaged flowers in her bedroom. Colin continued gifting her flowers, for he knew how much she loved receiving the affectionate gifts. Each time they spoke, he would force a singular flower through the section of the crack in the wall with the largest width. Some flowers fit through the tight space better than others, but not a single one would be left unscathed. Whether it be torn and subjected to fallen petals or a broken stem, they were broken all the same, yet beautiful beyond comparison.
There was beauty in the broken.
Each flower — drooping, bent, and missing petals — was cherished all the same by the Sutherland girl. With every new addition, Maisie would add the flower to her growing collection in the vase on her bedside table. In the last few weeks, Colin had gifted plentiful lilacs, a few newly-budded tulips, and baby's breath a couple of times. He once attempted to force a white rose through the wall by crushing the petals flat, but, as expected, the head of the flower was far too large.
The effort alone was enough to cause warmth to spread across her chest.
Three days before the Sutherland masquerade ball, Maisie could be found strolling alongside her younger brother, Maxwell at Hyde Park. That May afternoon, the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, subjecting their skin to a warm glow. In the distance, birds chirped from the towering trees and the soft spring breeze rustled the leaves, a lush emerald painted amongst the bright azure of the sky. Carried in the faint gusts of wind were the refreshing scents of flowers — tulips, roses, and lilacs — as well as the lingering musk of the rain shower the night before. The grass was no longer wet, save for the scarce patches of mud that were gradually drying. Maisie cherished the aftermath of substantial and merciless rain. For, it was not only the grass returned to its prior lush state, but the freshness in the air that caused a wave of contentment to wash over her. From the soil to the tallest branches of the trees and everything in between, the environment was lush and shrouded by a newfound liveliness.
