A Chance With You by Paula Camille Wong (literature books to read .txt) 📕

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“You do look awfully familiar. Do I know you? Have we met somewhere else before by any chance?” He asked gliding her throughout the dance floor.

“No. I don’t suppose I have,” Was all she said concentrating on more than not running away to her footsteps but she was graceful. Her father was the one who had taught her to dance. Her mother did at some point but after that it ended.

It seemed like centuries before the music ended. She bowed, turning to go but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Don’t go. Stay with me for a while madam. I do not know why but you fascinate me. There is something about you that reminds me of someone,”

Her lips curled into a thin line. Even if she want to leave. She could not. Not if he want to leave her in peace. Jane smiled and nodded. “As you wish my lord.” She cleared her throat and raised her hand up to it. “I am rather thirsty,”

His eyes sparked and he nodded immediately. “As you wish,” Disappearing through the crowds of people.

Now is her chance. Jane picked up her skirts and speed walked her way out of the ballroom, running past people. She looked around, breathing rapid as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She was in a massive hallway, doors everywhere; leading to God knows what kind of rooms. She glanced back as she heard footstep behind her. He had gone to get her drink already? Jane turned back around and hurriedly searched for an empty room. She placed her head next to a door and heard a scurrying sound. No. That will not work. She repeated the same procedure and didn’t hear anything. She smiled and turned the knob, throwing herself in the room. She closed the door behind her with a fast speed. Her chest raised and fell as she closed her eyes and leaned against the door just as the footsteps passed.

Looking around, her face grew scarlet. The room was dimly lit by candles. The carpet was the color of red velvet, the same as the curtains that hung every window in this massive palace. The room was obviously used for not talking but for something else entirely. The fireplace was lit so someone was here before her. The footsteps came back and her heart that was beating evenly, suddenly picked up its pace. Running toward the window, she placed both of her hand on the handle and pushed. It didn’t budge. She looked around and saw a candlestick, without another hesitation, she grasped it in both of her hand and stopped.

Is she mad?

This is not even her home and yet she is willing to break down the clearly expensive window. The candlestick was grasped hard in both of her hands; she can imagine the sharp edges digging into her skin, giving her scratches.

Letting in a breath, she walked slowly over to the nightstand where the candlestick was before and softly placed it there. If she was going to get caught then let her get caught with dignity. Fixing the loose locks from her hair, she let in a breath.

This was not her idea of having fun. More like laughing and talking with her friends, dancing with every gentleman in the ballroom. Instead she was stuck in this room that’s supposedly used to satisfy ones hunger. She looked down at the dark red sheets; she ran her hands through the soft fabric. Linen.

It was made out of linen. She used to have this kind of fabric on her bed. But instead, it was rags. Dirty rags that needed to be cleaned twice to try and bring back at least one fourth of its regular color.

Tears stung her eyes. How did her life turn into such a tangled mess? How can things end up like this?

“What do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter 3

Jane turned around to see where the voice came from. Her heart skipped a beat and another and another. This was far worse than John, worse than Marcus, worse than her parents. There, on the far corner of the room was a man. He must have been quiet for her not to notice him. His brown hair was mussed as if he had been furiously tugging on it. Eyes deep as endless fields of green, eyes that had look so familiar. She could tell he was attending the ball because of the way h dressed, though it did not surprise her. Even if he did not attend the ball, he is still part of the aristocracy. He had no choice but to wear elegant clothing. But that is not what frightened her. His mask was on the table next to the bottle of whisky and his overcoat was tossed on the back of the chair. Clearly, he was waiting for someone.

And that someone was not her.

She inhaled the breath that seemed to rob her. Every corner and line on his face had been so beautiful but now… he looked cold. Cold and heartless. Suddenly, the memories rushed back inside her head. Memories she fought to forget but was unsuccessful. Memories that was once so good. Her home in the country, soft patches of grasses and flowers. The both of them playing in the garden, chasing each other, rolling on the grass. Her heart ached, her belly fluttered. What’s he doing here? Out of all the places in England they can come across.

William.

The name that teased her ears, the face that appeared in her dreams both day and night, the voice that made her stomach clench with need. He stood up from the chair and placed the empty goblet down the table. Jane remained where she was, not finding herself to move an inch. This felt like a dream.

The only time when she can see him was when she was dreaming. But this… this was real. It has been seven years since she had last seen him. After Margaret rejected his proposal, he was never seen again.

Why is he here now? A glitter of light reflected somewhere off of his overcoat right by the chair. A medal. She looked at it in disbelief. He was one of the survivors who survived the war. No. There was more, he was a soldier from the war. But that can’t be possible; there was no hint of him being in war. Not a single scar on his face…. Then her gaze landed on his unbuttoned ruffled shirt. An ugly scar was visible. By the size and looks of it, it did not end there. So that was it. He had been in war? Fighting for England? Tearing her gaze away from his chest, she met his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat.

Once he had been so familiar. So loving. But now it seemed like he was a totally different man. A man who has been wounded and hurt so many times. “What are you doing here?” He asked again, clearly annoyed that she did not answer the question the first time he had asked her.

It took a few moments to find her voice again. But even when she did, she couldn’t even fashion the words. “I’m sorry. I thought this room was not occupied. I clearly misunderstood,”

“Clearly you have,”

Jane flinched at his rude comment. What happened to you? What has happen to the both of them? Her heart leaped for a few moments. Who could have known that even years later he still could affect her so? They were friends once yes, but that was all they could ever have been. Even as the bittersweet memories coiled through her, the painful memories overpowered. Before her father had died, William and she were friends. They were inseparable. It was just the both of them.
They had everything in common together. Even the people they knew teased them about their friendship. The towns’ people had always said that they were always meant for each other. It was just the two of them in the past; of course it stopped when William suddenly turned fifteen. That is when his male features grew. When he grew muscles and hard flat chest, bulky stomach, Margaret suddenly found him attractive. Her younger sister was used to staying indoors with their mother, while Jane played with William outside. But all of the sudden, out of the blue, Margaret asked if she could join along. Both of them accepted. They ran through the grass and beside the trees. Then that was when Jane knew something changed. When William and Margaret grew close. It was odd really; somehow she had the feeling that he has always felt affection for her younger sister. Who wouldn’t? Margaret was a blonde haired beauty. Her skin soft, almost made out of silk. Eyes the color of the darkest blue anyone had ever seen. She was a tall woman even back then. Her curves and features always present while Jane had curves yes, but not as much as she. Jane, in contrast, was a medium heighted woman. She was quiet and not out going like Margaret.

She knew that William preferred more of a woman who is seductive, out-going, and always ready to flirt. He had never been interest in her. Not even once. But she had feelings for him countless of times. Even when she lay awake at night, imagining his soft lips, tanned muscles. He was the person who haunted her dreams at night. He was the person who made her dream.

That is exactly it. He WAS the only person that made her dream.

And he still is.

The realization sent both hurt and relief in her veins, traveling toward her heart. It contracted then stopped, then did the same procedure again and again. Holding her head up high, her shoulders straight she straightened her gown. Something she does whenever she gets nervous, a strange habit to break. “I can see you are clearly waiting for someone. I will take my leave.”
Just as she stepped around him, footsteps radiated off of the empty hallway followed by a voice. Her eyes widened. John. He was looking for her. Jane froze. Damn it all, she’s stuck here. At least until he’s gone and looked somewhere else. She nervously looked around. There is nowhere she can possibly hide. The wardrobe was too small for her to fit in, there is no bathroom in this room and from what she can see and this room maybe large, but there was no hiding places. Her heart raised a beat slightly. Then another and another.

She’s going to get caught. She staggered back until a hard body collided with hers, causing her to stagger some more. A large hand was on her shoulder,