In the country of Tuschia, in the seaside city of Gherto, there lives an old noble family, the Gh¨ªa. There is also an enterprising young man called Chis¨¦ra, who has some claims on the family. This is by no means one continuous, coherent story. Rather, it's once more a collection of snippets that I'm trying to put in a vaguely chronological order.
- ONGOING. Rated MA
Chapter 1
He should have looked disdainfully at the brazen young thing that faced him across the polished expanse of the dark mahogany desk.
Instead he was glowering, and that was entirely wrong. Glowering meant that the shameless creature irritated him. Irritation meant being put off, and being put off by something was equal to admitting that the thing, whatever it was, had an effect on him.
That was the last thing he wanted to admit, least of all to himself.
"And why should I believe you?"
"Because you see it's true," was the reply, and that soft, curving mouth pulled into a just perceptible smirk.
The damnable thing was that it was true. He had no recollection of the woman in question, but he had indeed visited the mansion frequently around the time when the young man standing in front of him must've been sired. During those visits he had bedded at least two, possibly three different serving girls of the place; a vague memory of voluptuous breasts and a wide, full mouth flickered through his mind and he pushed it away.
But the fact remained that he had slept with a few of them. Serving girls did bear illegitimate children to noblemen, and even when they didn't, were prone to telling their friends all sorts of things. Sometimes they got bold enough to make claims... or their stories might give ideas to some insolent, enterprising offspring fathered by God knew what stablehands or grooms.
Too bad that the face he was looking at bore such an uncanny resemblance to his own son, his invaluable heir, borne by his late wife. She'd been certifiably virginal when they'd married and had disliked her marital duties vehemently ¨C so there was no doubt that his legitimate son was definitely his and no one else's, and had inherited much of his features.
The resemblance would've been so much easier to shrug away and forget if only it had been in the details: the shape of eyes, mouth, chin, nose. That he could have dismissed as a coincidence, but not this likeness that he was used to seeing only in close relatives. It was hard to define what it was; it was this something about people who might have different coloring, age, build, age, even sex, and yet be immediately recognizable as next of kin.
In this case so many of those details, too, were rather too similar for comfort. All right, even though the youth wasn't a spitting image of his Gioréo, if the two were placed side by side nobody could possibly fail to take them as brothers. Maybe even twins.
Placed side by side? Impossible. Inconceivable.
Intolerable.
"What do you want?" he ground out, detesting the hoarseness that threatened to creep into his voice.
"Not much, milord Ghía." Those dark amber eyes narrowed a little, their corners creasing. "Just some security - some money, clothes to wear, a good meal every day. A place in this world... and I am prepared to work for it, too. I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty."
Of course he could just shove the insolent young cuckoo away ¨C a country boy who couldn't possibly know anything that might make him dangerous ¨C but the likeness disturbed him. He appreciated subtlety, even when getting rid of people who were a nuisance to him, and of course he had to be cautious. If he now angered the youngster, who knew in what hands the fool might land?
So he would ostensibly show the boy some benevolence, give him a task to take care of. Something he might even succeed in accomplishing but couldn't possibly hope to survive? Oh yes ¨C one swat, at least one dead fly, possibly two. Not bad.
"Very well," he said slowly. "I think I might have something for you, young man. But you'll have to wait a while before everything is ready."
"I promise that you won't be disappointed," the youth replied.
Ghía Fannáde made a vague gesture with his fingers. His surprise visitor backed obediently towards the door, head bowing, and he wondered in passing how it was possible that such a humble gesture could be so totally devoid of humility.
Yes, he knew already how to dispose of the impudent puppy. Let the young thing imagine what he might, let him entertain illusions and congratulate himself on supposedly finding favor with his father. The Ghía estate and property would in due time pass in their entirety to Ghía Fannáde's son and heir, and that son was definitely not called Chiséra.
