Wednesday, February 12, 2014

I'm back in Bohemia, and it is most comforting to have been so welcomed by all whom I know in this foreign land. Jeeves must have organised the secret soiree while I was away, and though I was tired from my travelling, it warmed my heart to have so many people cheer my name as I stepped out of my carriage and into my continental home. 

Again the Duke of Albany and I have parted ways, though this time there was no promise of following me across the Continent. It seems the Duke has business in my Shire that he cannot ignore, and though our time together (at least to me) was as passionate and wonderful as always, he cannot leave. Nor does he know when he shall next be able to.

Of course this makes me wonder at his commitment to me, and I feel vulnerable knowing I have asked him to move to the Northern counties with me. Contrary to the inner confidence I felt last week, I now feel sick at the thought of pinning fanciful future notions on a man that spent the first few months of getting to know me in disguise

(I'm choosing to ignore the fact I have disguised myself many times... Call it a woman's prerogative.)
Lamenting in bed mid-week is not how I envisioned myself in Bohemia. I was to spend my time writing and travelling. And thankfully my writing has not suffered the same damage as my nearly non-existent travelling. I know I flit between the Shire and Bohemia more often than milkmaid between her kitchen and her cows, but that is exploring and discovering new lands! I feel as if I have let myself down and focussed too primarily on a man who is not making me his priority. In fact I feel like a cliché.

Valentine's day is in two days, and that is when the Duke has to give me his decision about our future. Though now I am resigned to the rejection I am no longer looking forward to the day of love. No doubt I will spend it feeling sorry for myself, wallowing over the Duke's latest letter. 


D. S.

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