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the mud become swampy, reaching near my knees. I pulled on the reins of our worn-out shire, Surge, with my blood boiling over in anger. Maybe I was being too rough on him. He didn’t deserve to be treated the way I treated him that day. He was old, and to be frank, as useless as my dad. When he refused to take another step, I dropped the reins and growled up to the sky, kicking a mound of mud at him. It was then I saw her in a horse drawn carriage, with that condescending slap-head Alistair, travelling by without even a sideways glance.
    I ran straight into the house, leaving old Surge out in the field. My mum looked out of the window and turned to me with wrinkles on her wrinkles. She asked me if I was going to put old Surge back in the lean-to. I glanced at Dad, who was out for the count in his chair, and told her he could do it. I pulled off my heavy mud coated boots, and tossed them at his legs before going to change out of my dirty wet clothes.
    It was meaningless me changing into dry clothes in such god awful weather, but I couldn’t very well turn up at the Haughton house caked in muck. I needed to know what the hell was going on. And that reluctance I had of going up there in the previous days, vanished as soon as I saw her with him. She told me she loved me. Hell, I told her the same. And seeing them together, in her father’s fancy horse drawn cart, lit my fuse.
    Dripping wet, I jogged up the stairs between the two great white pillars, and thumped on that black door as hard as I could. No one answered, so I brushed the rain from my face, and pulled on the bell instead. I waited impatiently as raindrops ricocheted in the mounting puddles around me.
    The worst person in the world answered, Alistair and his shiny oversized forehead. He lent against the doorframe, holding his ivory pipe, smirking at me.
    “Where’s Nell?”
    “She doesn’t want to see you boy.”
    Even though the rain was near ice-cold, my temperature soared. I’ve never wanted to kill another man. But him, he wasn’t a man, he was a smug-ass who needed to be taught a good lesson. His skinny face needed to meet my fist.
    “Then she can tell me that,” I stepped nearer.
    He laughed; the wrong thing to do. “She asked me to tell you… we have an understanding Eleanor and I.”
    I knew there was more to it, and I didn’t believe a word that came out of his poisonous mouth. If it were the case, that he was as close to her as I, he wouldn’t have called her Eleanor. It was always Nell.
    “I’m not leaving until she comes out here.” I stood my ground.
    “Then I shall have you removed.” Alistair moved out of the doorway. “You have no right to be on this property, and you have no right to be harassing the Brigadier’s Daughter.” Still, I stood my ground. I wasn’t going to budge until I saw her. “Are you listening?” He began to anger at me giving him the evil eye. “I’m going to teach you some manners boy.”
    “Go ahead,” I gladly gestured him over.
    He responded with a fist heading toward the left side of my face. But hell, I had never in my life, seen a punch thrown in slow-motion before. With ease I moved out of its path. I brought up my hands, ready for a bout. All those years fighting with my brothers had paid off. I was a handy lad. They taught me to block, jab, and weave.
    Again he threw another girly fist at me, and again I dodged it. He hovered gasping, as wet as me, irritated by the sludge splatters on his brown leather shoes.
    “You do know Miss Eleanor is my intended.” He threw something at me much more painful than a punch. Caustic words that burnt right through me.
    It was at that point my whole being shrunk. My muscles scrunched, my gut ached, and my heart pounded with such a force I thought it might explode. He could see me weakening fast before him. Why would he have said that if there wasn’t some truth in it? I thought.
    “I know about your stupid feelings for her, and I know that you laid with her