The Hawthorn Prince and the Lady

1823 London

Lady Alaina Preston couldn't believe her eyes or her luck!

She was invited to the ball of the Hawthorns, one of the most prestigious families in the county. She stared at the invitation in disbelief and amazement.

Her mother, Lady Preston handed it to her with such a look of excitement and pride only moments ago. She knew her mother's hope was that she would meet an extinguished bachelor at this ball.

Alaina didn't want to disappoint her parents, but she knew she didn't have a strong chance of capturing a man's attention. She was no raving beauty after all. Her hair was mousy brown. She was five-two in height. Her eyes were hazel with lengthy, thick eyelashes framing them. Her nose was what most people would call Roman. Her face was long and pointy, her lips were small and bowed like a porcelain doll.

When she was younger how she had wished to be tall and willowy like so many of the other ladies she knew.

Alaina sighed; she was excited about the ball, but she knew she wasn't going to meet anyone there that would want to woo her; she never did. The town calls her mousy Lanny in the Gazette every chance the writer gets.

Alaina knew that the paper was writing about her. She wasn't stupid. They pointed out all her fault's and flaws for the whole county to read about.

It hurt, but she knew there wasn't much she could do about it. Thankfully, her family never read that garbage, and she didn't have the heart to point it out to them,

Deciding to go lay down for a bit she walked up to her room the invitation tucked in her dress pocket. She trudged over to her bed, slipped off her shows and proceeded to flop on her bed in vexation. Laying there she let her mind wander to what the ball would be like.

Allowing her imagination to run wild, she pictured herself showing up at the ball in her best finery.

In her fantasy, she was wearing a deep royal purple ball gown with silver pearls adorning it the bodice and sleeves.

Her hair was swept up into a tightly braided quaff with a few curls hanging looses down her back.

She would walk down the stairs after her name was announced to have all the guests staring at her, whispering about how stunning she looked tonight.

At that moment the host of the party, Lord Hawthorn would come waltzing up to her; he would ask her for the first dance of the evening.

Alaina had never actually met the heir to the Hawthorn estate, but she had heard rumors from others of the town that he was an exceptionally stunning looking man.

His hair was said to be as light as the sun, well past his shoulder—longer than what was considered proper by society's standards. He was tall and lean with eyes the color of leaves in the summer time.

The ladies claimed that only the gods could have created a face that divine and not be jealous. With lips that were full and wide begging for a woman's kiss.

Alaina knew the woman was most likely over-romanticizing his looks but right now in her room, she didn't care.

Eventually, all her fantasizing about the ball caused her to drift off into a light slumber.

"Michael Ashton Hawthorn! Stop right there I know you hear me." Came the high pitched screeching voice of Lady Mila Hawthorn.

Michael sighed in resignation as his mother came barreling towards him in a fine temper.

He was attempting to sneak out the front door at that very moment, but knew it was a lost cause once she spotted him. Turning to face her, his green eyes flashing with ire as she approached.

"Yes, mother? What can I help you with?"

She slowed her pace as she approached him.

"Don't even think of sneaking out of this house! You knew we have a ball coming up that we are throwing for you."

Michael rolled his eyes. He knew when his mother was saying what she really meant was him. His parents would not be attending per usual.

His parents were trying to get him paired up with some poor, innocent young lady.

For all the towns squawking and gossip, there was a dark secret about the Hawthorns that none of them knew. It was a closely guarded family secret.

Michael sighed pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"Mother," he tried to say as comely as he could muster. "You know I hate these galas."

Lady Mila gave him a put-upon look. Her light blond hair swinging back and forth with the shaking of her head at her son's resistance to his parent's matchmaking.

Lady Mila Hawthorn was an astoundingly good-looking woman at her age, with her sparkling cobalt blue eyes and creamy complexion. No one would believe she was a mother to a grown man.

Hands on her tiny waist she stared her son down. "You know your father wishes you to find a bride this next season, preferably before he passes the title on to you at the end of this coming year before we retire to Paris."

Michael gave his mother a pained look of exasperation, for they have had this conversation many times.

"Again, he said through gritted teeth, " I will not marry until I have met the woman who captures my attention and interest. It has to be for love."

Lady Mila threw her hand up in aggravation.

"Son! You have met plenty of young ladies to pick a bride from, all of them eligible and titled. Every one of them has swooned at your feet as soon as they see you."

"Pick one and be done with it already."

He looked at her aghast.

"Be done with it? Is that how you picked father? You just looked at all the faces and said that one, so I can be done with it. "

Mila Hawthorn snorted in an unladylike fashion at his suggestion.

"Of course not, Lord Hawthorn and I met at a ball just like the one we are throwing for you. We were introduced by a mutual friend and as soon as our eyes met, both of us felt a connection and shortly after we fell in love."

Her eyes took on a far-off dreamy quality for a moment, thinking about the past. She then snapped her attention back to the present to focus on her son and their conversation.

He gave her a cheeky grin. "Then how can you not expect me to look for the same thing you have with father? It has to be true love mother if I am to spend the rest of my long life with someone I want it to be someone I have things in common with." Not!—" He emphasized, "some insipid little twit that cannot read, think, or carry on a conversation with for more than five seconds. You know this. I can not find anything less, and none of the woman have brought about that feeling in me. "

Lady Mila patted her boys face with affection and understanding.

"All right. I will talk to your father this evening and see how much time I can squeeze out of him. Mind you, do not make it to long for we are old and wish to retire from this place and life."

For a moment, his mother looked far older than she usually did before it vanished to be replaced by a bright smile again.

Sometimes he even forgot how old his parents really were. Because when you live a long time after a while even oneself could forget how long it has been. For what is a moment in time to the immortal vampires like them.