she was a duchess.
like rain she was everywhere
but he was neither a man of riches
or reputation

he met her once
under the hot summer trees of Paris
on market day.
she caught a glimpse of his electric blue eyes...

she was lively
instead of sitting there, her heart danced
she was interesting
unlike the way women should have acted

forced to preen and fluff themselves
quiet but loud in their vulgarity
never saying a word of ingenuity
or stating just a simple opinion

but she wasn't that
she was a volcano
she sparked his heart
just listening to her talk

for hours and hours
he'd stare at her recounts of vicars and dukes
and the state of society these days
and the classic perimeter of a wagon wheel

she would intrigue him to no end

but she was married, see
she belonged to someone else
a man so bland, the duke
and he was convinced,

that in all his aristocratic blood
he would not listen to her thoughts
and shut her up in her room
for she was an American heiress

with twenty million in the bank.
and he needed the money.

he would woo her, he decided.
they were matched in every way
she could think and he could try
to explain new things to her

things that in her innocence
she could not even dare to dream of
she thought him vulgar but strangely
entertaining and beautiful

she wanted to learn

but he was the duke's brother

and it was a clandestine love affair