Ooops...

Yeah, I just realized that I hadn't posted writings for today, and it is a Saturday.....I'll find something short as it is nearing my bedtime over here. Besides, I don't want to take away from the London thing.
Anywho, here's a bit about one of my favorite characters ever created:
Nicholas Riverton, otherwise known as the Duke of Lidden, was rough, rugged, rakishly handsome, and utterly romantic. Yes, romantic. For all his attractive, incredibly masculine form and manners, he was truly romantic at heart. Not that he boasted of such, for what man in his right mind would? But he knew that his sensibilities and most especially his affection for his garden and flowers were not common to the male sex. And so he feigned indifference most of the time, posing as a rogue, rake, and all-around scoundrel. His actions never actually declared him such; it was merely his attitudes and outward appearance that hinted to others that he might be. No one minded, to be sure; the young ladies indeed found him more appealing because of his “might be” reputation. Fawning, fainting, and shameless flirtation were now typical, and downright irritating to Nicholas. Was it his fault that he had been given features women enjoyed? If he heard one more word about his eyes being the color of a stormy sea, he might just gouge them out. Another word about his chestnut hair being glorious and tempting, and he could cut it all off. And any further comparisons to Adonis, David, or any of the gods, and he would take himself for a ride under his carriage with his ankles fastened to the bottom of it. Oh, he liked his appearance well enough, and was proud of his strong family features, to be sure. But was it really too much to ask that someone for once be more interested in his heart than the angle of his jaw or the size of his fortune? That he be loved for who he was and not what he was? He wished for it, hoped for it, had even prayed for it once or twice, but he had very little hope of ever recieving his one true desire in life.