Isabelle
Thomas landed in port for the holidays. He arranged his work to bring him back to the town he had left his beloved Isabelle in. Two weeks to himself, then off to a burgeoning endeavor. He had heard of ships sailing to Africa, the crews made enough to retire on in a few years time.
He purchased the local paper and turned the pages until he reached the society page. Once it was his map to seek out those from whom he could steal his fortune, now he read it to seek out the one for whom he would build a fortune.
The he read in great detail about the private party being held on the Aswold Estate. The estate was a day and a half carriage ride, he would arrive at night. He read the entire guest list, and stopped at her name on the printed page. He felt his heart pull inside himself, his soul felt a small urging of blissfulness as he read her name.
So Thomas did what Thomas knew best. He sought out a discreet tailor, then placed a retainer for a servants livery. When it was done he set out for Aswold Estate.
It was easy for Thomas to fit in, there were so many servants rushing about to and fro. He was often mistook for one of the temporary footmen. He performed every task above and beyond what was called for, with the grace and dignity only seen in butlers of higher houses. Not a soul questioned him. So when he found time to find out about the last soiree, no one thought twice to tell him.
Now that he had his future plans in mind, he sought out the lonesome Isabelle.
He carried a tray of champagne filled flutes to the drawing room. The room was done is a light caramel and cream. The smell of meat filled pastries, and hearty grain breads filled the air.
There he caught a glimpse of her sitting on the end of the love seat. Her hair in perfected curls, her gown a stunning vision of light orange. She wore the brightest smile in the room. Thomas noticed right away her freckles were covered with powder. Her complexion was without flaw. Color was lightly splashed about her face in autumn allure. He could scarcely believe this was his plain, dear, Isabelle. She was a Goddess to him, to be worshiped and adored. Who would be able to gaze upon her and think anything less?
It was then that Thomas noticed the reason of her youthful smile. He was not alone, another had discovered her beauty.
A stately man, he leaned forward towards her, in his chair. His teeth were perfect and brighter than any full moon. His hair a deep rich brown and finely manicured, like his nails. Perfect, like everything about this man. Even his name to be exact, as Thomas found out who he was. A Duke. If the Duke was going to be a Thief and try to steal his Isabelle, then the Thief will become a Duke to stave him off.
Thomas set the tray down on a serving buffet. He took the carriage back to the tailors shop, and left instructions for an elaborate costume.