Chapter 1

Wes stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he followed the monotone man around the old house. Sam, his best friend, stood beside him, acutely hanging on every word the tour guide said.

"This is a portrait of Charles's wife, Cynara Stanmore. There's actually..." but Wes wasn't listening. He hadn't wanted to come to this stupid house to look at old furniture and paintings, but Sam had dragged him along. She had always been into history, costume dramas, and the like. He indulgently went, for he found that it was hard to say no to her, especially when she was threatening him with refusing to go see the new Star Wars movie with him.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his mind wondering to other things. His boredom, though, quickly turned to a sort of nausea. He felt dizzy, and wondered how he had gotten sick so quickly. "I'm going to go wait outside," he whispered in Sam's ear, thinking he would feel better if he could get some fresh air. Sam gave him a glare, but then just shrugged her shoulders.

Wes left the tour group and back tracked down the stairs and outside the front door. The sun was shining brightly, and he walked down the little stone steps at the front of the house. He kicked some of the gravel when he reached it, staring off into the parking lot. He contemplated just going to wait by the car, but found himself circling the house instead.

It wasn't too bad looking, he had to admit to himself, rather large. There were gargoyles topping the roof, which he thought was pretty awesome. He could enjoy himself much better without that tour guide prattling information down his ear. The house was surrounded by large oak trees on either side. In the back there was a large yard filled with green grass. Wes would have been tempted to run through it if he hadn't felt so sick, the fresh air was helping, though.

The house had several gardens he knew. He decided to stop by the one closest to him. The garden was on a lower level than the rest of the yard, and Wes walked down the stone steps to get into it. Heads spewing water into a fountain greeted him upon his entrance. The garden was filled with fragrant flowers, but he walked by them rather quickly, walking up the identical stone steps on the far side.

Following the dirt path further, he was led into some more trees. It was darker there, with the green canopy above only letting in scattered light onto the smooth dirt path. He walked by another stone statue, a figure of a robed woman.

He came to an abrupt stop. He hadn't noticed anyone else close by, but just a few feet ahead there was a girl sitting on a stone bench, crying quietly into her hands. The first thing Wes noticed about her was her clothes. She was wearing a long, flowing dress that went all the way to her feet, which were just barely popping out from underneath it. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head in a fancy do.

Wes debated for a minute if he should just leave her alone, but something made him go up to her.

"Hey," he said gently, "What's wrong?"

The girl looked up in surprise, and then she screamed. Wes jumped back in surprise, he hadn't been expecting that reaction. The girl jumped off the bench and stood behind if, as if the thing placed between them gave her some sort of protection.

"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously, looking as though she were poised to fight. Now that he could see her face, he saw that she was quite pretty. A couple tendrils of hair escaped their pins and were framing her face. Judging by how messy and uneven they were, it was not done on purpose, but the effect was still charming. Her bangs were wispy and sticking to her forehead; her tears were drying on her cheeks.

Wes couldn't believe this girl. "Relax," he held up placating hands, "You're acting like you're afraid I'm going to attack you or something. I simply wanted to know why you were so upset."

"My brothers are inside. They'll be out looking for me any minute now," she warned, as if he were some crazed murderer or something.

Wes sighed in frustration. "Hey," he said a little angrily, "I just said I'm not going to hurt you or anything. Geesh."

"Then what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I was on a tour," Wes explained easily, "I just came out here for some fresh air. What did you think I was doing here?"

"What tour? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She looked braver now, standing up regally.

"Well I'm not going anywhere, missy," Wes snapped at her. Judging by her outfit, he guessed she worked her or something, but he didn't care. He had paid for his ticket, and he had a right to look at any goddamn garden he wanted to. "You don't own this place."

The girl crossed her arms stubbornly. "Yes I do, or at least my family does. And I demand that you leave at once."

"You don't own this place," Wes shook his head, wondering if the girl were crazy. "The historical preservation society owns it."

"The what?" she was staring at him like he was crazy. Wes snorted at her. Now apparently they both thought the other was insane, and one of them obviously was--and it wasn't him.

"Look," Wes said, "I'm sorry I frightened you. I'm just going to be on my way now, okay?" He turned to leave. Though he was still curious about the girl and why she had been crying, he didn't need to deal with this sort of thing right now. Not while he was feeling do sick. Then as he thought it, he realized that he didn't feel sick at all anymore. That was odd, he thought.

"What are you wearing?" he heard her ask. She had come from behind the bench and was now standing next to him. "I've never seen clothes like that before," she was looking over him curiously.

"Just jeans and a t-shirt," he said incredulously. What did she mean she had never seen clothes like these before? Then it hit him. She was teasing him. She's playing the character of some nineteenth century lady.

Wes laughed now. "I guess not what you're used to," he said, playing along. He didn't mind being teased, and if this pretty girl wanted to play some game with him, who was he to object?

She shook her head and stepped back. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," she said lightly, "I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding. You're at Margrave Manor, sir," she said by way of explanation.

"Oh, I know," Wes assured her. "What's you're name?"

"Katherine Stanmore," she answered, looking at him a little warily now.

"Hello. I'm Wesley Rubens, nice to meet you," he held out his hand. Katherine placed hers in his, and looked surprised when he shook it.

"Please tell me what you are doing here?" she asked again.

"Just admiring the view," he stared at her, flirting a little.

"I-I must be getting back inside," she told him, trying to step around him, but Wesley playfully stepped with her, blocking her way.

"Please, Mr. Rubens, I really have to get inside," she stepped past him and walked briskly away. She seemed frightened again, Wes thought. What an odd girl he had come across, the though, someone he wanted to get to know better. He turned and started following her back into this house.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded, stopping and turning to face him.

"I'm not," he asserted, "I just happen to be going the same way you are."