The Countess

Chapter 1

The Countess had many exceptional qualities: her graceful manner, her subtle humor, her appetite for music, dance, and literature, her alertness and alacrity of mind. If these were not enough, she could be regarded well for her bright hazel eyes, her warm smile, and her glorious chestnut brown hair. She was generally known amongst her peers for other qualities though: her appetite for food, her ample figure, and the rumors surrounding how her dowry was somehow tied to her weight.

The notoriously abundant Countess deftly evaded her chaperones, her ladies in waiting, through the busy market and ducked out of sight. A lifetime of tutoring from a former ballerina meant that the Countess could move with surprising ease and grace for a young woman of her size. Admittedly, her robust figure danced as much in the process as she herself had. The chill of early winter licked at her cheeks. A breeze blew her hair ever so slightly out of its earlier carefully arranged elegance.

A proper rosy blush bloomed in her cheeks when she spotted the Duke, her fiancee. He appeared from a quaint bookstore into the little side street where she waited for him. They'd arranged this little rendezvous by code: he'd sent her a compilation of stories along with an invitation to today's local festvities. The note inside the front cover mentioned the bookstore, which led her to this spot. The during the dinner after their engagement had been made official, she mentioned a particular game at the festival that she could do without, setting the time. This was, she knew, the only chance she'd have to speak candidly, unsupervised, to her future husband before their wedding.

He was tall and dark, but thankfully not brooding. Where she was clad in royal blue and pastel red, he seemed to prefer navy and silver in his wardrobe. His hair and eyes were darker than hers, and he had a healthy tan from his tour of duty with the fleet. His build wasn't as trim as was popular amongst many young ladies, but his shoulders were suitably broad. His spectacles emphasized his bookishness, the quality she'd learned of when they were first introduced in his family's library. She was amused to note the numerous yellow ribbons and bows tied haphazardly onto his coat buttons, prizes from the games in the festival. Her own dress was similarly ornamented.

They exchanged an understated curtsy for a dramatic bow. She watched a matching blush spread across his face as she offered a sweet chortle. She seated herself amongst a few crates of mixed textiles and tried her best to ignore the creaking of the box beneath her. He chose to forego a counter chuckle and instead offered a gentle smile. He knelt to one knee and offered her a wrapped box of chocolates.

"A jest, my dear Duke?" She asked, coyly. "Or aren't you concerned about the price my parents will exact for our nuptials? My weight in gold, or so the popular stories claim."

"So little a price?" He replied calmly. "For the privilege of your hand? I shall have to supply you with more chocolate then, else you may feel offence at a paltry sum."

It was a terrible line, but she felt her heart skip a beat all the same.

"You won't encourage me to miss any desserts for the sake of your treasury?" She joked.

"For my sake, I hope you won't miss even a single dessert." He responded, his face and hers reddening further.

"So you mean to feed my mind with books, my vanity with flattery, and my waistline with sweets?" She pressed.

"I shall feed your happiness however I may." He answered.

She offered her white-gloved hand to him, which he kissed tenderly. It seemed to her that there was a chance... just a chance... that she might be marrying well.