can't have a girly blog without a bit of romance, right? ;)

A Duchess and an American
By Rosalie　
　
"Nice picture, isn't it?" The old man uttered as he lifted his granddaughter up to see it. She reached out her tiny hand and gingerly stroked the smooth painted face, the lady's same vibrant green eyes staring lovingly back at her. "Papa," she said, her pudgy thumb in her mouth, "what was she like?" The old man's wrinkled cheeks drew up in a slight smile. "She was the most beautiful girl in the world," he said, putting her down before taking a seat on the white marble floor. "She was intelligent, full of life, a real life treasure." As he went on memories came flooding back, of her, of him, and of the life they lived. They were young and wild when they first met, on the cold sandy shore of a Parisian beach. She had lost her scarf when a sudden breeze snatched it from her throat, it was emerald green, just like her eyes. She was running after it, but ran into him instead. They tumbled to the ground, sand flying through the air like pixie dust. "Oh! Pardon, Monsieur!" She blushed, her French no less than perfect. He smiled, his one dimple showing as he got up, dusted himself and held out his hand to help her up. She quickly got to her feet and brushed off her skirt. "Merci Monsieur, but I believe I can manage." She smoothed her messy hair and turned to leave. He could hardly contain himself. He let out a chuckle. She turned, an air of offense crossing her delicate face. He held out his hand to give her the scarf she had forgotten in her haste. She Scoffed, he was dirty, rude, forward, and so...so...handsome. "Keep it!" She smiled, "Green is last season anyway." He looked down at the silky sheer fabric in his hand, it was still warm. "Au revoir!" He called as she disappeared over the dunes. Later that night there was a Masquerade being held at a local cafe. In honor of the Duchess Mignonette Viola's 17th birthday. She made her double-door entrance as the gypsy band began to play. It was late into the night when a handsome stranger in a black mask approached her, handing her a red rose he had pulled from his sleeve. She smiled and took his hand as they began to glide across the Spanish terracotta floor. He held her tight, so close she could feel the heart beating in his chest, not quite the proper thing to do, but propriety was the furthest thing from her mind. The party had ended hours ago and still they danced, all the while not saying a single word. CLANG, CLANG, CLAAANG, the clock had struck Midnight, the masked stranger released Mignonette and handed her her green scarf. "You!" She stepped back, eyes wide. "Oui, I don't believe we've been properly introduced, the name's Daniel, and you are...?" "Calling security!" She said, her tiny hands on her hips. "I just came by to give you back your scarf, didn't know it was against the law." She glared at him, how dare he joke at her expense? "You sir, are one the rudest individuals I've ever had the misfortune of meeting!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "Not rude, my dear, American." She tried to pull back, but he was quite strong. "Unhand me, you brute!" She struggled, just before she could she could lift a hand to slap him he kissed her. And it was in that moment that it happened, they fell in love. "Grandma Nettie and I married a week later," The old man said, holding her green scarf in his hand. "She was my everything, my love, my best friend, my last duchess." He wrapped it about the little girl's neck and kissed her forehead.

XXOO Rosalie