Author's Note: I am SO sorry that it's been a while. Everything's been so busy, and I didn't have the time to post. ): But to make it up to you, guys, this chapter's a long one. And please red

And I'm also sorry, if I spammed you guys. There's something shitty going on with the comp. LOL.

Chapter Four

For the first time in years, I finally felt what it is like to be free. Without a title holding me back, and without anything to worry about. Though I do believe I am in danger of becoming easily - and oddly - attracted to a wicked, wicked young man.

- From the diary of Margaret Swinton, 15 November 1950

"Where, in heaven's name, are we going?"

"You'll see."

"But where?" I persisted, tugging my wrist rebelliously away from his strong grasp. Really. If he were about to take me out to have some jolly good fun, then could he at least let my wrist breathe? It was quite annoying, to be honest. No one handled me that way before, and it was getting to me a lot.

To make things a lot irritating for me, Maxwell Cutting, the bloody Earl of Sterling, and the next in line as the eleventh Duke of bloody Rossington, laughed at me. Laughed! At me, might I emphasize. I watched him through narrowed blue eyes, my hands on my hips. His broad shoulders shook, his dimples appearing on each cheek, eyes twinkling and blinking. If I wasn't vexed, I would've thought he looked adorable - but alas, I was. No point thinking he was cute now.

"Will you stop laughing at me, sir?" I snapped.

He didn't stop. He fell on a cemented bench at the courtyard of the Birches' mansion. He leaned back, his eyes trained on me, that mocking smile plastered on his face.

"Finally, you stopped!" I exclaimed, hotly.

He started laughing once again. Of all the -

"I say!" he choked out in between laughs. "Your face. It's so funny. All scrunched up." To my horror, he imitated my expression seconds ago, making my jaw drop.

"No, it doesn't look like that." I scowled.

He smirked. "There it goes again."

I stomped my foot. "Stop it, you bloody idiot!" I bit off. "That's it, I'm going back to the party. Stay here if you want-" I turned around and started pacing toward the mansion. "- I am not going to keep you entertained - not that I ever did, anyway!" I spit.

I heard footsteps tracking me down fast, and the next thing I knew, the earl's fingers laid on my shoulder. He spun me around. I glared at him, my cheeks turning hot, not because I was blushing but because I was angry and humiliated. There were practically other people strolling the courtyard, for God's sake.

His face was solemn. "I apologize if I have offended you in anyway, countess."

"You did offend me," I snapped. "Will you just leave me alone? I know our parents want us to get to know each other, but this is never going to work out."

"Is that what you think?"

I glowered. "What?"

"That this is never going to work out?" he clarified, placing his hands in his pockets. He was staring down at me with dire eyes. "Not that I expect we'll be an engaged couple but as friends, at least?"

"I - I don't know," I said, honestly. "Because you are quite maddening; and I don't mean that in a good way, my lord."

He gave a little smile. "I truly am sorry. Here, let's start over." Without any hint, he stretched his right hand out, waiting patiently for me to place mine in his. I stared at him pointedly. What was he doing? Starting over, he said. In normal circumstances, I would give in since it was the most ladylike thing to do. But with this man in front of me, I wanted nothing more to do with him. My pride was hurt, and I would be nothing without it.

"I do not want anything to do with you," I said in clipped tones, my eyes flashing. "Not that I ever did in the first place!" With that, I spun on my heels and walked away, my skirts swishing as I headed back toward the mansion.

Just as I was about to place one foot on the stone steps leading to the entrance, I heard Maxwell Cutting's voice call out.

"I never thought!"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. What's he getting at now? I wondered. I exhaled an annoyed breath. "What do you mean, Lord Sterling?" I said, rather calmly, which was amazing because I thought I might've exploded then and there in the Birches' courtyard.

"You, being cooped up in this mansion - in this life of a noblewoman. Isn't it getting to you?" he asked, behind me. "Don't you want a little fun, a little thrill? Because I know how you feel. I honestly do, Swinton. It can be such a bore - and depressing, quite honestly - being an aristocrat. Duties, arranged marriages, and all the lot." I could feel him close behind me now. Close enough for him to touch me…close enough for his lips to reach the hollow of my ear. "I never thought you'd chicken out to such an opportunity."

Chicken out? I was not a chicken going out! That was a wrong conclusion, but never mind! I was not backing out. No, I wasn't. Eyes flashing like sword blades, I spun around, poking him in the chest with a gloved finger. "I beg your pardon, Lord Sterling," I boomed, "but I most definitely am not going to 'chicken out,' as you so call it. Margaret Swinton does not quit so easily." With each hard poke, I emphasized my last remaining words: "Don't. You. Forget. That. About. Me. D'you hear?" I hissed.

He looked surprised at my sudden outburst, but then he gave a toothy smile, and offered his arm. "Thought so. Shall we?"

"Hmph!" I tossed my head away from him and lifted my chin. I started walking ahead of him.

"Glad to know I rattled your bones, countess," he chuckled.

Good God, that came out just so wrong.

But when I only stared at him fiercely over my shoulder, he gave a little salute that aggravated me even more.

Bloody idiot.

Maxwell Cutting did not let his chauffer come to take us to where we were going (wherever that was), and the man didn't seem bothered at all. It almost seemed like he was used to his master's antics (if you could call it that). In fact, the earl only gave him a pat on the back and, reaching something from his the inside of his coat, produced a gleaming silver flask. The chauffer grinned and gave a half bow to the earl, and went away to drink from the flat container.

I looked at the earl's back with disgust, but didn't say anything at all.

Not until we got in the car and was well on our way to God knows where, though.

"D'you really have to do that?" I said imperiously, after he got in the driver's seat and started the gorgeous black Mercedes Benz's engine.

"What?" He pulled something below his left knee, then with his right, started switching gears, I suppose. I really had no idea what he was doing, but it did make the car move. The gates swung open just as we were nearing, and Maxwell Cutting nodded to the sentry in his box. The man saluted in return.

"Seems like you know every bloody one here," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Even the Birches' attendants."

He glanced at me. "Why, you refuse to get along with servants?" He seemed generally curious, but I was quite surprised with the hint of animosity laced in his voice.

"I didn't say that," I said slowly, looking at the empty road ahead of us that seemed to stretch forever with nowhere to go for us. "I keep hold of a great friendship between the servants and me at home." I didn't know why I felt the need to elucidate, but I did. It was quite strange. "It's just that you seem to get along with everyone, is all."

"Oh, that," he chuckled, waving a hand in the air while the other was on the steering wheel. He looked at me and beamed. I felt oddly relieved that I didn't upset him. "It's just part of my glorious charm, I suppose…" He shrugged.

"Egotistical bloke," I mumbled.

Maxwell Cutting bellowed. "True."

I rolled my eyes. The stupid thing gnawing my stomach got the best of me, and I couldn't help it any longer. "Do your parents know you took the car and that you left along with it? What about the place we're going - is it safe? Because if not, I will get out of this car right this instant and walk all the way home -"

"Cool your water, Swinton," the earl said, amusement filling his silver eyes. Seeing my worried expression, he went with, "My parents do not know I left, but seeing how occupied they are, I don't think they'll ever realize my leaving the Birches'. Well that, or maybe they do know the moment they realized I am no longer in the vicinity. They know I get bored easily and disappear at parties rather quickly."

He honked a horn to an unbearably slow car in front of us, and when it didn't speed up, he sighed and swerved to the road leading to the opposite direction, perfectly executing the task. We were now ahead of the old automobile. It was amazing how I was perfectly composed. We could've met up with a truck, and he was going so fast!

"Also," he continued casually, like he couldn't hear my heart thumping in my chest, threatening to come out of the fabric of my shimmering dress, "this is my car, not my parents'. I can take it wherever I want, and they're used to it disappearing ever so often. Lastly" - Maxwell Cutting raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me - "why would I let any harm come to the Countess of Lockley? No need to get out the car and walk back to the mansion, love, because if you ever did get out - which I am sure you wouldn't - that's where the danger comes."

I snorted. "I can take care of myself, thank you," I sneered, all of a sudden.

He chuckled. "Oh, I don't doubt that," he agreed. "All I meant was that it's not safe outside in the country - especially at night with a young lady with a face like yours - walking alone."

Oh. Ohhh, I get it. I gulped. Monsters lurking in the woods, is what. Well, I didn't want any ghosts or any other strange creatures scaring me to death!

"You do know what I mean, yeah?"

The earl waited for my assent, and so I nodded. Monsters and ghosts in the woods. I practically shivered.

"Indeed. Wouldn't want to get you kidnapped, or worst, defiled," he went on casually."

I nearly buckled out of my seat at that. "Defiled?" I burst out, astounded. "What do you mean, defiled?"

Lord Sterling started a bit at my outburst, but then he righted himself and stared at me with curiosity, his eyes darting from my face to the road, and back again. "Defiled. You know. A man taking a woman's vir -"

"I know what 'defiled' means!" I nearly wanted to place my palms on my ears like a little girl, hearing naughty words and refuses to hear them.

He sighed, as if his patience was wearing thin. "Then why'd you ask?"

"I thought you were talking about creatures of the night and…and ghosts!" I balked, placing my hands on my lap, twisting my fingers over and over.

The Earl of Sterling laughed at that, choking out between chuckles the word innocent. I was not! Ignoring him, I turned away in my seat and stared out the window.

I could tell we were nearing our destination, because when he swerved the car to the right, where sparkling lights and loud music was, it was obvious. We were heading to the carnival.

I'd never been to the carnival. I'd been begging my parents to take me there since I was little, but they never had the time - even I didn't have the time. And my best girl, Lulu Richardson, was in Lorywood, an all girls school, where, she stated, and I quote, "Mortals and mere misses like me are shipped off casually, like a piece of baggage." But she wrote to me about a week ago that she was having a marvelous time sneaking off with a boy from the other side of town. Ah, Lulu. I hoped she was taking good care of herself or else…or else - I stole a glance at Maxwell Cutting, who was fiddling with the radio with one hand. Ricky Nelson's Travelin' Man started blasting inside the car, and he bobbed his head up and down, fingers tapping on the steering wheel - or else she might get - I shuddered - DEFILED. My God.

Before I started to think of horrifying thoughts (which, to be honest, I had no idea how a man could even deflower a woman), Maxwell Cutting stopped the engine. I just realized that we were already parked, and that the other young people seeking for a little thrill were getting out of their car to go to the carnival. Good heavens, is that green car beside us shaking? But…why?

The earl noticed my stare as my eyes widened, when I saw two hands gripping wildly. He said immediately, "Alright, come along, Miss Curiosity. That's not for you to see."

"But -"

He was already outside the car, blocking me from the view behind him. He opened the door for me and wrapped a palm on my eyes. I could hear a girl screaming, bloody hell. What was happening?

"Steven, oh, Steven! OH, STEVEN!"

Lord Sterling marched me away from the green car. "Remind me to buy cotton for your ears before we leave the carnival," he muttered.

"What's the matter with the girl?" I asked, worriedly. I tried desperately to look over the earl's side, but he was holding my arms rather firmly. "Is she being hurt by that man inside the automobile with her?"

He gave a bark of laughter. "Hardly. She's feeling the opposite, actually."

"Opposite? Like what?" I blinked at him.

He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. You don't have to know."

He steered me farther away, and by the time we reached the entrance to the carnival, the girl's screams were muffled by the sound of the crowd, laughing and shouting and all were having fun. I completely forgot about the One Being Murdered in the Green Car, and instead I gaped at the colorful lights adorning every booth and every ride. There was a young man about the earl's age, who threw a tennis ball at a pyramid of bottles. It shattered, and the man in the booth exclaimed he won. The girl with him kissed him on the cheek when he gave her the prize he won for her - a giant teddy bear with a tummy saying I Love You.

There were couples riding the Ferris wheel, their seats moving back and forth dangerously, like they were about to fall; but they didn't. They were laughing gaily, like nothing could stop them. Like they could rule the world.

My eyes were dead set on a cotton candy machine, where a man in a striped apron was idly spinning a stick and fluffy cotton formed around it. I felt for my purse, but I forgot that I didn't bring one. I needn't bring one because there was nothing to buy at the party, anyway.

"Come on," Lord Sterling said, pulling my hand. I was momentarily confused, but then I realized that he was taking me to where the man making the cotton candy was. The cotton candy maker eyed us, seeing that our clothes were elegant and positively expensive. But he just smiled at us kindly and waved us cheerfully toward him.

"Gud evenin', sir," he said in a deep cockney accent. "Wot would ya like for yer lady friend?" He gave me a toothy grin. "I got the best cotton candy in the place! Strawb'rry, cherry, or orange?"

The earl turned to me. "Anything in particular?"

"Strawberry," I said slowly.

"The lady wants strawberry," he announced.

The man grinned. "Heard ya loud an' clear!"

He was about to get an already made cotton candy that was inside a plastic, when I said in excited tones, "Please, sir, make a new one!" He and the earl stared at me. "It's just that it looks wonderful, the way the candy's made. I simply want to see it and taste it just as it's finished created…."

"No problem, luv," the cotton candy maker said gleefully, an amused chuckle escaping his lips. I stood there, my eyes wide with amazement, the earl right beside me. I could tell he was looking at me, but in that moment, I didn't look at him. I'd never been to the carnival, never really tasted what a cotton candy felt like on my tongue and how delicious it was; never knew how it was made exactly. I was never truly free, and now I was. I was fascinated.

The man started pumping the machine with his foot, then put some reddish-pinkish powder, which I supposed was the sugar, and then he waited for a little bit for it to form, like tiny crystal webs forming at the center until it slowly covered the entire mouth of the machine. He took a slender candy-striped stick and carefully wove it round and round the mouth, the magical cotton caught in circles around the stick. Then, finally, it grew and grew till it was done.

"Usually don't serve 'em in a stick," the man confided conspiratorially, "but yer a fine exception, miss."

He offered it to me, and I flashed him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Lord Sterling was taking some coins in his pocket, when the man waved him away and shook his head. "No need, sir." He looked at me. "She's got it for free. Yer lucky," he told the earl.

The earl only grinned. "Thanks."

We walked away from his booth and, the candy in one hand, I worked my way on taking my gloves off.

Lord Sterling chuckled. "Why'd you take your gloves off?"

"Because my gloves are Chanel, and it would ruin the fabric if I touched the candy with it." I securely tucked my gloves in one hand, starting to nibble at the cotton candy with the other. It quickly melted on my tongue, leaving the delicious taste of strawberries. "Lovely!" I exclaimed.

"You've never had cotton candy before?" he asked, placing his hands in his pockets.

"Never," I said, plainly. "Not that my parents didn't allow me…it's just that I never got the chance. Silly, I know. But even at my age, I've been kept busy."

"Busy, like what?"

"Oh, taking care of my pesky callers, appointments with the milliner and dressmakers, party planning with Mama, teatime with my mother's friends and their daughters, and lessons at home. I'm home schooled, you know."

He didn't seem to hear the home schooled part. "So, you never do any normal, youthful stuff? Attend concerts and dance the night away, swimming with friends down by the lake, learn how to drive -"

"Papa doesn't want me to learn how to drive," I confessed, picking at my cotton candy. "Says it's too dangerous. I agree with him wholeheartedly, by the way I've experienced being in a car with you behind the wheels." I stared at him pointedly.

He grinned. "Touché." He gestured for me to sit on a bench, and when I sat, he followed suit. There was a couple sitting beside us, but they were busy mauling each other, which made my nose crinkle.

"There's your scrunchy face again."

"I don't do scrunchy faces," I muttered.

The earl pinched a piece of cotton with his index finger and thumb, and took a bite. "Oh, but you do."

"Hmph!" I turned away a little bit away from him. "And I did not tell you to get a scrap of my candy! You didn't ask for permission."

"Why should I?"

"Because," I hissed, "it's the polite thing to do. And have you lost your mind? Do you not know about etiquette?"

"Bollocks, that."

I gasped, turning around to look at him with wide eyes. "What did you say?" I squeaked.

"This is a free world; we can do whatever we want, even if sometimes duty ties us down."

"That's America," I corrected. "We follow the queen."

He rolled his eyes. "So if the queen told you to run butt-naked in her palace at two in the morning, you'd do it without hesitation?"

"I didn't mean -"

"She's the queen, after all," he pointed out. "And we have to follow her."

I grumbled, wiggling in my seat. "Point taken, alright?"

"I know." He crossed his arms, eyes twinkling as he took in the view before us. He didn't find it disturbing that we could hear and actually see two people kissing passionately, like fish drinking from water, touching everywhere, mind you. He just stared ahead of him and breathed deeply. I sat there, watching him, chewing my food and picking the fluff over and over.

Suddenly, he checked his watch and sighed happily. He stood up and held out a hand for me. Warily, I took it, the gloves in my hand being the barrier between our hands. What was he going to do now?

"Where to next?" I asked. I was rather enjoying simply sitting and watching, eating my cotton candy. But then Maxwell Cutting said something that caught my attention.

"I'm giving you your first taste of freedom, Swinton."