A glorious Easter Sunday dictates sunnier spring climes and a look to the future. I hope the weekends festivities have not left you longing for more, but have rather sated the deficit of Lent. I am pleased to announce that I succeeded in my aim - not a single (nor pair) of shoes were purchased in the last six weeks, and too did I abstain from overindulging my appetite. 

But of course I am now free to invest in the perfect pair of shoes, and indulge to my heart's content.

There is no doubt in my mind that I shall have a spending frenzy when in Rome, for 'when in Rome...' 

I have not seen the blonde Esquire for a few days - he was called away to a wedding and I was uninvited. A little put out is all I shall say on the matter, for I know it was out of his control to invite me. And after our rather frank discussion the other day there is no doubt in our minds that marriage is a long way off.

To think that the basis of this relationship started with the bluntest of proposals - albeit a tryst to engage in a rather intrepid game of lies and deceit - has come full circle. I have fallen for him, I do love him, and here I am having to wait for the blonde Esquire's career and life long opportunities to be over before I am put first.

I think I'd worry about it less if I had a goal of my own... I can play the piano, sing and sew, I love children and teaching and am willing to have open discussions about politics. I can make people feel comfortable in any situation and I know how to host a Ball that will be talked about for years to come... But what can I do?

While the blonde Esquire still has a month before he becomes a man at arms and languishes in my bed, I have little time to think of my own future. But I know once he leaves that idle hands are the devil's play thing, and I do not want to succumb to the temptations of the flesh. Therefore, I need a goal. I am ambitious, I want more... But that 'more' has no definition, and I do not currently know how to find it.

I'm hoping that Rome shall be my inspiration... Or indeed if anyone wants to include me in their plans, I'd be most grateful.



D. S.

A fortnight is all I have left in the Shire before the blonde Esquire whisks me away to the city of our civilisation's birth; Rome.

I have neglected all but he and I cannot apologise for my absence because he has become my every waking moment.

As I read that sentence I choke slightly on the nauseating optimism that had scarce before left my lips. Never would I utter such honest yet sickly, true but excessive, and almost putrid words of undying love.

Passion, yes. Lust, without a doubt. But love? These are not words that leave my mouth willingly; but whatever the reason, my tongue cannot seem to cease proclamations of joy regarding the blonde Esquire.

The cynic in me rolls her eyes profusely, glaring from behind the glass cage - but it is true - I could not be happier.

Rome!

I wish I had more to tell as I have neglected my writing for so long, but in all truthfulness I have spent my time in the blonde Esquire's arms, listening to his sweet nothings. (Oh Lord, I have started again!) 

Party's of course have been thrown - the Duke's sister and I have only a few more months together before she sojourns south for the Summer, so needless to say, there shall be many a raucous festivity before then. Recently time has been spent in doors as the weather continues to ravage the countryside.

Oh... I suppose there is one small piece of information that cannot be overlooked; the blonde Esquire has made his intentions quite clear, it is not marriage he desires, but rather an over zealous lust for war and battle.

He has declared himself a soldier, nay a warrior; a part of his heart longs to fight alongside the cavalry as it can only speak to certain men. These are men who have ideals and a zest for leadership, men whose very nature is both commanding and dispassionate while making difficult decisions. Contrary to those of us who only know how to follow orders, or dumbly refuse to take on the responsibility of other people's lives.

The blonde Esquire has yet to start his training - hence seeking forget-me-not bliss in Rome - but I know that he shall disappear soon. It seems I am destined to forever be abandoned by the men who steal my heart. I cannot and do not begrudge the blonde Esquire from his quest; he is meant to be a soldier, a leader, and I cannot deny him his destiny. But there are no words to describe how much I'll miss him.

No words.

D. S.

I have barely left the bedchamber, wrapped in sheets, dripping beads of perspiration, uttering ceaseless moans of pleasure. I cannot repeat any further the misbehaviour that has taken place at my abode, but think no less of me, nor my actions, for the ruse is slowly slipping away.

The blonde Esquire has managed to tame the beast within; I no longer ache for the touch of anonymous lovers, but am more than content with only him. Though this relationship started as a farce, our intentions have twisted and turned and true emotions have crept in between the lies. 


I do not know whether his unrelenting honesty as the catalyst of our secret tryst makes me trust him more, or whether I am falling for a man whose every intention was to make me love him, but I do know that I am falling for him.

Four months have passed and I have not looked at another man. At first it was a game, keeping me entertained as I played along with the blonde Esquire's needs. But now? I am anxious when I do not hear from him, we barely leave each other's sides and our families have mentioned words that cannot be unheard - betrothal.

Of course I question whether or not his Mother was in on the ruse from the off, and if it was me that has been played... But I have asked time and time again what it is he wants and I constantly get the same response.

'You. I want you.'

I have been wanted and lusted after by so many men... The English gentleman, the Scottish Earl, the White Knight and they too were adamant in their wanting of me, but I am not fool enough to believe they all loved me. In fact, I can happily admit that their intentions were purely physical, but I cannot deny that mine were all too similar.

But when the blonde Esquire looks at me, I feel his want, his ice blue eyes burn into mine with a desperation that could not be fake; no one could possibly emit a look so loving as he. Besides I have heard all the lies that can be said, I could recognise the empty promises without a word being uttered.

For example, the White Knight played the part of chivalrous second-place oh so well when I first began the blonde Esquire's ruse, but a few months down the line? It seems he was more interested in having me to himself and has long since lost contact entirely. A little bit shocked I was, but the Duke's sister has comforted me in saying he has cut ties with all of his ex-lovers in a similar vein so I ought to think nothing of it. She is right, of course, but my pride hurts, for one always wants to think of themselves as the main attraction, and not as a milieu of courtesans.

However I shall ignore the obvious cry for attention and focus on my happiness. It is true, I am so happy I could burst. I wish the rest of the world could feel my happiness... I don't know what I've done to deserve it, but I shall revel in the joy I feel, for who knows how long it shall last?

D. S.