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With her first words she mesmerized his soul, Of rose water and lavender was her aroma, Her tip tap of her fairy tale walk was majestic, A woman of status still in her prime of depth and note, Wisps of red-hot curls, floating out of control adding To her appeal, a magnetic touch to the usual Variety of husband seeking maidens at the ball. He hurriedly asked her for the opening dance, She accepted and gracefully took his hand, He first tested the waters, like a ballerina she danced, Sadly, the music stopped for an interval, and So led her back, as her deep smiling hazel brown eyes Played with his, quizzically asking if she would see him Again, he bowed and loudly voiced ‘my lady, the next dance Is mine.’ it was a sweltering July night, she curtsied, and Walked outside to the patio, attracting every man's attention. Lord Kingsworth was from Somerset and, the Duchess of York From Yorkshire, they made a striking couple as they swayed, Laughed and whirled all night on the dance floor, infatuation Had certainly crept upon them and the gossip column in Tomorrow’s Country Times would certainly talk of this romance And definitely would not let such a juicy piece of scandal escape them. Lord Edward Kingsworth invited Helen, the duchess of York to a picnic, Helen, charmingly smiled and accepted, Edward would pick her Up with his carriage at eleven o`clock the following morning. He had made up his mind he would ask Helen to become Betrothed to him, who should he ask for her hand in marriage, Her eldest brother she explained, as her father had died last Year of tuberculosis and so it came to pass that after An engagement of one year which held many ardent nights And many picnic loving days by the river, which meandered Close by them, always hurriedly stripping and unashamedly And joyfully, enjoying the cool water, deliciously naked, finally Became husband and wife at the beautiful York Cathedral. What a happy couple they were, and blessed with three Beautiful little girls who all had their mother’s unruly red hair.
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