Angell Summer

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-Words can't explain-

Thoughts Quote

Life is set to be thought of your inner self-possessed demand, but either you fight for life or deaths come to you from the thinking of unconfessed love -- |EDNABRUCE|

Third person's POV

Mimi ran her hands down the front of her skirt and studied herself in the mirror with thumb and forefinger, she pulled a few strands of hair loose along her hairline then turned her head slowly from one side to the other holding her own graze. After a moment, she made a face strode abruptly to the dressing table and snatched up her brush roughly taming the ringlets back into place. She plopped onto the seat at her dressing table and stared at her self, White lace encircled the throat of her gray Merino gown making her thought she's glum, look like the ham on a white platter at Christmas dinner.

I’m not going to wear that, "Mimi protested. It’s completely unsuitable. It’s a ball gown."

“And this is a dinner party. What of it?” She tugged Mimi’s arm to make her rise from the chair. “Common. This is your color, I’m telling you to take that rag off, the only thing you’re going to attract in that outfit is a parson.” Reluctantly, Mimi rose.

“There won’t be any parsons there.”

“Lucky thing. Who will be there?” She turned Mimi around and began unbuttoning her dress.

“Well, the Archerson’s, of course.”

“Oh, goody. With the riotous Lucas and the Oscars, the Petrakis, the Enrico’s, the Bonaventure’s, the Chandler, the McKinney, The Winter’s, Petra von, the Monteiro, Montenegro, Mrs. Parentheses, Inigo Alicantè -”

“Inigo Alicantè! Oh, that’ll be a hoot. I bet Angell will like him.” Mimi’s hand gripped each other. “He worries me and I hope he doesn’t see right through Angell because he’s the type to do it and say so.” Janis pushed the sleeves of Mimi’s dress down her arms, forcing her anxious hands apart. “If he does, it’ll be out of jealousy.”

Mimi turned. “What on earth do you mean?” Janis pushed her dress over her petticoats and Mimi stepped out of it.

“I mean, he’s always been interested in you. You know that.”

“I know no such thing.” She thought for a moment. Why Janis tossed the gray dress onto the bed.

“What a gruesome thought. Inigo Alicantè. He’s such a . . . . he’s so . . . .well, he just seems to hate everything.”

“And everyone. Except you.” Janis bunched the Carina peacock dress and pushed it over Mimi’s head. “Pull your arms through here.” Mimi did as she was told.

“Is that it? Nobody else?” Janis asked, yanking the dress into place.

Mimi sighed. "Isabella Vancouver." Janis stopped what she was doing. “No, not Isabella Vancouver.”

Mimi grimaced. “Yes.”

“Oh, God,” Janis groaned. the dullest people on earth under the eye of the dourest Duchess.

“Angell doesn’t stand a chance,” Mimi said softly. She could envision the whole fiasco. Angell’s blunt speech, his broad laughter, his candidness, all of it would be like the screech of an unsoiled hinge in an otherwise pristine household to Cesare Vancouver the late Duke. He was not going to fit and the universal acknowledgment matriarch of a good society would reject him. Mimi closed her eyes as Janis replaced her corset.

“Let your breath out,” Janis ordered.

"It's too tight," Mimi said. “I won’t be able to eat.” Janis pulled anyway and Mimi let out her breath in a whoosh. Janis knotted the strings then buttoned the long row down her back. “It’s perfect and they’ll only be having the same old roasts they always have. You can eat when you get home. Mimi started to move towards the mirror.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Janis admonished. “Not yet” she stepped in front of her and pulled the cap sleeves down just off her shoulders. Then she loosened Mimi’s hair and gave a sharp pull downward on the bodice.


“There. New look.” She stepped back and Mimi moved to the mirror. There, in the coeval glass, was a much different woman than the maiden aunt who’d stood there minutes before. She stared at her self for a long while.

“Ask him to stay,” Janis said quietly behind her.

“If he says no, I’ll eat my hat.” Mimi’s Lip’s curved. The woman in the mirror looked positively sultry. “Which one? The turkey bonnet?” She asked.

Janis laughed. ” I won’t have to decide,” he’ll stay. Mimi exhaled. 'Oh, God, Janis. And then what?' “And then we worry about that later, everything will work out, Just stop worrying. father already loves him, for pity’s sake Just this afternoon he took him to wall street.” Mimi turned in surprise looking into her sisters face instead of the reflection. “Father took Angell to wall street? What on earth for?” Janis smiled. “Why, he’s grooming him to be a son-in-law of course. It would be a shame to waste his efforts, don’t you think?”

Despite her skepticism, Mimi felt her heart trip a beat. Angell as her husband. The idea made her blood sing. Father did like him, that was true. Mimi could tell every meal, the two engaged in conversation almost constantly to the exclusion of everyone else according to her peeved mother, Father would grill Angell’s questions about cattle or horseflesh or life in the west; Summer would either deflect the question with his natural humor or answer in what sounded to Mimi like very convincing terms.

“So?” Janis interrupted her thoughts. “Are you going to ask him to stay?”

Mimi swallowed. “I already did.”

“You know what I mean. Not for a few days. Forever.” Anxiety twisted her stomach. “What if he says no?” She nearly whispered. Janis sighed and gave her a look for exaggerated tolerance. “We already talked about the hat, remember?”

“But he thinks- I’ve just made it so clear how I felt about marriage and marriage partners that marriage is an alliance, that there are two families to consider, class, society, appropriateness.” As she said the words, they resounded like a death knell within her chest. The weight of her own faulty convictions threatened to crush her.

“Oh, holy Pete,” Janis spat. “Keep talking like that and you’ll end up with Lucas Archerson yet, So who cares what you said before? You were a different person then. God knows he was a different person then. Things change and you Mimi have changed.”

“Have I?” She turned questioning eyes to her sister.

“Do you really think I have?” Janis snickered and inclined her head. “Look at yourself in the mirror, if you don’t believe me.”

No one commented on Mimi’s dress when she finally descended the staircase. It wasn’t after all so inappropriate to the occasion. It just wasn’t quite Mimi’s customary style. She thought she noticed her father give her an unusually long appraisal but he said nothing pointed and even murmured a quick, “you look lovely, dear,” before ushering his wife out the door. But Summer looked at her so hard she thought her blush must have colored her crimson to the tip of her toes, she inside turned into molten with the boldness of his graze and she thought for a second that she might not catch her breath in the snugly laced corset. Then he turned and offered Janis his arm. The whole drive to the Archerson’s, Mimi felt Summer’s eyes on her.

An introduction was made, sherries and whiskeys handed out and before she knew it Mimi was ensconced on the sofa next to Lucas and an enormous Antique mug jar closer to him. Across the room, Summer stood with Mimi’s father, Mr. Archerson and Mr. Oscar They were situated so that Angell faced her and the fact that his eyes strayed to her each time he leaned forward to listen to the soft-spoken word of Mr. Oscar was not lost on her. Her own graze fled to him more often than she could control.

He was so completely handsome. She marveled. Could someone be so striking, so dynamic, really want her? though she’d always rejected the idea of Lucas, somehow he’d always been the one she pictured-unpleasantly- when she thought of marriage. Angell's hair was just a shade past due for a haircut, but the threat of unruly waves only increased the rakish appeal he exuded, his somehow tannish alabaster skin against the pure white of his Shirt, his powerful shoulders under the impeccable cut of his jacket his big muscle tightened the arm of the dress as if it's going to tear itself apart, the delicate cut crystal in his broad hands.

oh my wonder Lord, can someone ever be so devilishly hot?

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