“ If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger. ”
(oscar isaac, forty-two, cis man, he/him) you do not know me but rest assured i know you, LORD ADRIAN HARROW. you are the COUSIN TO THE RULING BARON ALVARADO. you maybe be known for your DISCERNMENT but it is only a mask for the true nature of your SCHEMING ways. however, i am not here to spread slander on the queen’s jewels, though i suspect you are her BLACK STAR DIOPSIDE. the ton says your name reminds them of FINGERS DRAPED IN RINGS, A QUESTION DODGED WITH LAUGHTER, BREATH THAT SMELLS OF BRANDY AND EMPTY PROMISES, A COMPLIMENT TOO PRECISE TO BE KIND. how scandalous! you have been warned, dear reader, that i will prove if this is true and share every last detail.
Basic Information
Full Name & Title: Lord Adrian Harrow
Age: 42
Birthdate & Zodiac Sign: October 30th — Scorpio
Marital Status: Widowed
Appearance
Eye Color: Dark brown
Hair Color: Chestnut with streaks of grey
Signature Fashion Choices: Dark, tailored coats of fine wool
Jewelry or Accessories: A black signet ring worn always on his pinky finger
Personality & Traits
Strengths:
– Sharp discernment, often two steps ahead in any conversation
– Seductive charm, particularly when he wants something
– Loyal in his own complex way
Weaknesses:
– Deeply calculating, at times to the point of manipulation
– Emotionally closed off and prone to bitterness
– Addictive tendencies — gambling, drinking, and the thrill of the pursuit
Background
The only son of Baron Harrow was never a promising heir. Sentimental, restless, and left motherless far too soon, Adrian was raised by a man hollowed out by grief. Supper after supper passed in silence across a long table, where love had long since vanished. Life in the countryside was grey, lonely — until Henry and Marianne. The physician’s daughter and the baron’s ward, they became Adrian’s world. Laughter, loyalty, and youth bound the three of them.
But children grow. And Marianne — clever, radiant, impossibly graceful — became the center of his universe. She had no title, yet carried herself like royalty. No woman in London or Paris could compare. Unfortunately, Henry noticed too. And he moved faster.
When they announced their engagement, Adrian fled — enlisting under the guise of duty to the Crown and a desire to serve on the battlefield. In truth, he could not bear to see the woman he loved in the arms of his closest friend. Wounded, he returned to find that Henry and Marianne remained unwed. The match had quietly fallen apart. Still, one glance from Adrian across the room - one laugh, given too easily - and everything began to unravel. Envy bloomed into fury. Henry demanded a duel. Adrian accepted without flinching.
But at dawn, it was only Adrian who arrived - pistol in hand, guilt twisting in his gut. Henry had left a letter: No love is worth a man's life. But Adrian disagreed. He would have died. He would have killed. For love. For pride. He could no longer tell which.
He married Marianne soon after. Scandalous, yes — a baron’s son and a commoner. But love had demanded it. Only, her heart had not returned from Henry’s saddle. She smiled out of duty, slept in silence, and stared past him. Adrian tried — oh, how he tried — but affection curdled into bitterness. He drank more. Lost money at the card tables. Spent weeks in London, in the company of women and men whose names he never learned. He wanted to forget. Himself most of all.
Then illness came for her — blood on lace, skin like wax. He sat at her bedside, night after night, praying for a miracle. There was none. He granted her last wishes. He sent her last letter to Henry. Her final breath came softly. She died without ever saying I love you.
Ten years were spent in lust, travel, and dissociation. Now, Adrian Harrow — newly named Baron Harrow after his father’s passing — stands on the edge of ruin. The estate is nearly gone, the title little more than a shell. Still handsome, still sharp — but hardened. He returns to society at the invitation of his cousin, the ruling Baron Alvarado. Not for pleasure, but necessity. He needs a wife. A wealthy one. And if he must charm, seduce, deceive — he will.
Because Adrian knows love is a luxury. And survival is an art.
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For a while, Millicent had thought that coming back to London might ease the sense of loneliness that she had been feeling. The feeling had started to creep in after she and Adrian had called it quits. She had thought that it was because her heart was still in London but now that she was here ... nothing seemed to be getting better. In fact, after seeing Benedicts reaction to her, she felt even more lonely. Perhaps the countryside was better. At least then she could hide herself away, she didn't have to deal with the constant whispers from the rest of the ton.
The gallery was one of the few places that Millicent felt like she could go and feel at ease. She felt like she could escape so much of it. She could get lost in the paintings for hours. It brought her a sense of comfort - the only real kind of comfort she could find. It stilled her brain for a little while. The only other time that she had felt like that - where she didn't have to overthink everything that she ever did - was when she was with Adrian.
She was gazing upon a newer painting - one that she hadn't been able to see before, when she heard Adrians voice and a small gasp sounded. She hadn't even heard him move closer to her. "Adrian." Millicent breathed, a smile slipped onto her lips. Maybe he was what she had been missing since returning to London. "I didn't expect to find you somewhere like this. Deciding that you need to soak in some culture?" Once upon a time, Millicent had spent hours painting him. It might not have been some of her best work but it was some of her favourite. She wondered if he thought upon it quite as fondly.
Her name slipped from him before he could think better of it. A greeting, measured and soft, as he allowed her features to settle once more in his mind. The smile, the surprise in her eyes. The familiar shape of her, the way her expression lit when it met beauty, when it found art. There was something in her presence that made him believe — foolishly, yes — that everything between them remained unchanged. That the world had not turned and shaken them apart. That he might still reach for her and find no abyss stretched between them. But he knew better. He knew it was gone. That whatever feeling she had once held for him had long since faded.
“I have been visiting more frequently.” He said at last, his tone thoughtful. A moment passed before he added, with a nod toward the painting she had been admiring. “Though I do not come for the art. Not in the way you do.” He sighed, arching his brows. “I come for the quiet. Most would not disturb someone caught in the study of brushstrokes, at least not the refined sort.” The corner of his mouth curved faintly. “Not my case, clearly.” His eyes found hers then, and something in them softened — disarmed in a way he had not expected. Perhaps some part of him had hoped she would be here. Even if he would never quite admit it. Not even to himself.
“Do you recall that sketch?” He asked, folding his hands behind his back as he moved a few paces toward a nearby canvas. Moving, in an attempt to temper the way his body and mind still responded to her. Outwardly, of course, he wore the nonchalant facade that always clung to his gestures. “The one you said never quite looked like me. Something about the eyes — that they never came out right.” A minute of silence followed. He seemed to deliberate before speaking again. “I still have it.” Adrian said, more gently now. “Those pieces—” He gestured toward the walls. “—they hold nothing to it. Truly.” He tilted his head as though taking in the painting before him, though his gaze returned to her. Just long enough. “I suppose I only ever understood art when it came from your hand. I hope you are still painting, Millie.” What was the purpose of stirring the past? He did not know. Whether he sought her, or some version of themselves that no longer lived, he did not wish to find out.
There's something heavy about his presence, that is how Thayer allows himself to believe his claim. Ghosts were suppose to feel like a flicker of wind against a flame in a windowsill, the touch of a feather on the back of your neck that send a chill down your spine. Adrian Harrow's company was thick in the air with the smell of liquor hot on his breath, and his body fighting the fever of intoxication with waves of heat. He was, in fact, very much alive.
And so was Thayer, just one drink behind him on a road of memories he wanted to forget.
"I promise that when I do finally leave this realm, I'll ensure I send a storm your way to rattle your bones," He grins, but it's habit alone. There is something that tells him tonight he does not have to pretend, but it is easier to believe than to follow through. With a shake of his head, Thayer offers some clarity. "My brother were lost, same as my father. They pulled me from the frontlines after an—"
Attack, but he cannot find the word on his breath. Some part of him still believes it could have been warranted, that he is still a pawn even after the war has been won.
"— incident," He decides. "I was forced to retire, found some semblance of solace in Margate. But wherever is it that you ended up?"
“Margate.” Adrian echoed, letting Thayer’s words hang in the air a moment longer. His gaze drifted past his shoulder before he met Thayer’s eyes again. “A reward for escaping death, I suppose. The sea and the breeze must be far more peaceful than the city.” There was a pause. His finger found his glass, tracing the rim as he searched for words. But he was already a step — and a gulp — too close to sincerity to fumble for long. “I am sorry.” He said at last, his voice quieter. “For your brothers. And your father. It is not easy, being the one left to remember.”
Adrian shifted on the stool, suddenly aware of the stiffness in his spine. “I was injured. They sent me home too soon, before I could even attempt to recover. I was of little use to them at half strength.” Even less so with a titled name and enough coin to make the decision easy. “And before I knew it, I was returned to my father’s estate. Then came marriage.” The word sat oddly on his tongue, as though it belonged to someone else entirely. “She fell ill, and passed a few years ago.”
Perhaps Thayer would remember Marianne if he mentioned her. She had always been a part of him — had always been the one he’d hoped to marry. But it was easier to let the thought drift, along with the ache that never failed to follow when he spoke of her. If not at once, then in the silence between sips. “And what brings you to London, then?”
For most men, her boldness would not be something which they would enjoy. For a lot of men, they would try to tame her. She had, had it before. Men had sought her out and the moment that they started to court, they expected her to be someone that she wasn't. It was a refreshing changed that he would be somewhere like this with her.
There hadn't been a single person that had come even close to how she felt about Atticus in all the years that she had known him. No-one could hold a candle to the man who had captured her heart as a teenager and had never let it go again. But as she looked at Adrian that night, as she thought about their time together, she began to wonder if maybe he could compete. Maybe her heart could be ready to let go of the love that could never be and make way for something which could.
She felt more comfortable here, with him, than she did most of the time that they were out in society, with the rest of the ton. It didn't feel like everyone was watching in here. Making way to her feeling like she could just be. "Hm?" Josephine retorted, "And who might that be, My Lord?"
A laugh fell from Josephine at Adrians confession. She raised an eyebrow as she looked at him, that defiant look which she wore so well danced across her features. "Did you underestimate me? I didn't think you'd be so foolish." She nodded, "I am not. To be a countess - of my own right and not my husbands - means that I had to learn to live in a mans world. Not everyone is so willing to accept a woman as the head of her family. Even with the Queens blessing."
A delightful shiver ran through Josephines body at his touch. Her eyes were locked with his and the usual intensity that laid there made way for something else. There was a fondness as she looked upon him. A mutual admiration, perhaps. There was a sharp intake of breath at the feeling of him so close.
Josephine nodded, "That is exactly what I think as well." He was a man who had been married once and, if the rumours were true, he had seduced a married woman as well. She was sure that he was up to the challenge she was placing in front of him. "Oh, i'm a lady, Lord Harrow. I could never say such things aloud." She smirked and she hoped that he would take what she said and run with it. She was rather intrigued to see what he might do.
After their first meeting, Adrian had done what he always did. He stepped back and regarded the situation with realism. This was a strategy, after all. Josephine was not the first heiress he had been introduced to, nor the first to cross his thoughts. But she was the only one whose name stayed with him hours after parting. Whose words replayed in his mind. Still, he had told himself it was nothing more than good fortune, a promising match. A plan that he needed to execute with care. Flatter her, entertain her, make himself just charming enough to keep her attention, but respectable enough to earn her trust.
And yet… none of it felt rehearsed anymore. Not when she seemed to be a step ahead in every conversation, clever in each remark with a wisdom that stretched beyond her years. And it did not come merely from duty, for she carried her role with her chin held high — not like him, as if it were a curse heavy upon his shoulders. She wore her title like silk, not a mask. Her confidence was not the typical arrogant entitlement of the ton. It was earned and entirely hers.
What had begun as a calculated courtship — his first of the season — had slowly become something he no longer felt in control of. It had no name, this feeling that bloomed within him whenever she was near. It was not purely desire, though it burned. Nor could it be devotion — not when his heart still felt locked somewhere far away, perhaps left behind in a cottage tucked deep in the vast green of the countryside, out of his reach. And yet, he found himself lingering longer than he should, waiting for her laughter, seeking the sparkle of amusement in her eyes when he jested. It had become a subtle pleasure. The way Josephine challenged him, the way she watched him, the way she saw him. Adrian had not anticipated that. And now, standing there with her, he realised he could no longer separate what was genuine from what was supposed to be strategy. And he did not mind at all. He could almost see his resistance fade at the corner of her smile.
“Oh, a lady indeed.” He murmured, stepping closer. The warmth in his eyes made room for something deeper — a kind of awe tinged with want. His fingers brushed along her arm, featherlight, tracing a path upward with the softest touch. “The Countess in her own right. Who walks into a gentlemen’s club and makes the room more hers than theirs. Who laughs and speaks freely, never hiding behind a fan. Who looks at me as though she is still deciding whether I am worthy of her attention.” He let his thumb and forefinger gently lift her chin, as if he could not bear to look away. “A danger to my peace of mind.” A low chuckle poured from his lips. “And entirely irresistible.”
A moment passed. Silent and charged. Something unspoken filled the space between them. The space Adrian was resisting the urge to close. “You claim you could never say such things aloud…” He said, voice low. “But you do not need to. I hear them anyway.” His hand moved to cradle Josephine’s jaw, his thumb brushing along her cheek. His gaze dropped to her lips for a second before returning to her eyes. And suddenly, he was but a breath away. But he did not give in. Not yet. “And if I have misheard you… I have no doubt you will correct me. You always do.”
Then his lips found hers. There was no urgency, no desperate hunger like that of someone drowning in lust, nor any trace of doubt. A kiss that lingered and wondered, that asked a question. One of delightful curiosity for what might stir beneath the surface. His hand slid to the nape of her neck, drawing her closer without quite realising he had done so, allowing himself to fall into it. The thrill he had so carefully tried to resist. It was unexpected. Captivating. Just like Josephine Hermance herself. It was not a kiss to dazzle or to claim. It was one to feel. And Adrian felt it, deep in a part of himself he had believed long calloused.
who: josephine & adrian ( @adricnh )
where: gentleman jacks
Sneaking into Gentleman Jacks was something which Josephine had done after when she was young. She hated the idea that there was a space for only the men. She had never expected to find someone who would be willing to risk it and let her join them on a trip there - not someone who she was courting, anyway. So when Adrian suggested that be the place of their date, Josephine had been pleasantly surprised.
They'd managed to get in with no real problems - Josephine slipped the gentleman on the door a little bit of something when he looked at her too long. He'd been all to happy to let her in there. And the two of them had spent most of their evening playing card games before moving into one of the back rooms that they had there.
Now that they were in a room with a little more privacy, Josephine was able to let her hair down. She always hated having to wear it all up. And because they had to sneak her in, she had to pin it a certain way so that no-one would suspect. Now, there was a single plait with ran down the centre of her back. "The wine that they have here isn't half bad." Josephine commented as she took a sip. She held the glass out to him, then, "Care for a taste?"
She laughed a little then, "Sorry. I am just imagining my mothers face if she could see me now." She laughed again. "Her eldest daughter, unmarried, alone with a man. Not only that but in gentleman jacks, of all places. She'd have a fit." She paused and added, "My father will be turning in his grave." She laughed. She took a step closer to him, then, "I do hope you make the risk worth while, Adrian."
Adrian had entertained his fair share of peculiar plans over the years, but sneaking a Countess into a gentlemen’s club was a surprise even for him. Watching her walk through those doors with the confidence of a lifelong member, elegance and grace wrapped in something bolder, sparked something in him. She held the certainty of someone who knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. It wasn’t merely attractive. It was disarming. And he was more than willing to follow wherever it led.
With those warm brown eyes fixed on his, and laughter that spilled freely — as it always did with her — he was at ease. He let his gaze linger now and then, shifting his weight just so, leaning in slightly whenever she spoke. It had become a quiet dance, their own little rhythm, drifting far from the hum of voices and the clink of glasses in the background. He had nearly forgotten how much he loved this feeling. The chase. The rush of watching a scene unfold. The subtle changes in her expression whenever he offered a new remark, the way she never hesitated to take the lead. It stirred something sharp and utterly delightful within him. It made him feel alive.
Adrian watched as the pins were swiftly removed. She looked content, absorbed in the moment. And beautifully so. His fingers brushed hers as he accepted the glass, his gaze never leaving hers. “It has bite.” He said, a smile tugging at his mouth, followed by a wink. “Reminds me of someone.”
A quiet hum of agreement escaped him at the sound of her laughter. That flicker of boyish mischief danced across his features. “I never imagined you’d actually come with me.” He admitted. “Let alone bribe the doorman and march straight in.” He paused, thoughtful. “But I should’ve. You’re not one to sit and be told what you may or may not do.”
There was something else in his gaze. Not just amusement, but something softer. Closer to admiration. He reached out, slow and deliberate, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. His knuckles grazed her cheek, featherlight and brief — just enough to confirm what he’d been thinking for most of the evening: softest skin, warm to the touch. His eyes dipped momentarily to her lips before returning to hers.
“Oh, absolutely.” He murmured, his voice lower now, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as she stepped closer. “If your mother is ready to scold me and your father is cursing me from his grave, then I suppose the least I can do is make the risk memorable.” He leaned in then, his words brushing near her ear — warm, playful. “So tell me, Josephine… what does a man do to make a night like this worth your while?” A pause. “I suspect the cards have bored you after winning nearly every round.”
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open to: @adricnh for lord adrian harrow
location: the silver lantern inn, london, england.
The tavern stank of cheap gin and old regrets, but Thayer hardly noticed— by the time he found his way to the Silver Lantern, his breath was aflame with liquor that needed to be chased with something stronger. A gloved hand tightened around his glass, untouched despite that desire for sedation. Looking into the amber, he is reminded of a night he never thought he's have to recall. Eleanor's mother, a facade of a memory, finds him once more. He was a knight, a soldier, a man forged in duty. But now? He was just a father far too late, an honor turned brass in the time robbed from them both.
Laughter breaks out from the next room and it begs to stir the past. He did not seek to drown in guilt tonight. Thayer turned, sluggish from the liquor and sorrow, and he gaze catches a familiar figure that stands alone from it all. They're familiar, too familiar, and yet he cannot place it until a breath brings clarity.
"I thought ghosts were left the fields," He says, and the words grace his tongue rough with disbelief— or was it hope? No, not that. Turning to face him, the floor swam but it may have simply been the years that wallow between them. "I thought you were dead like the lot of us. Or worse— married."
The Silver Lantern was the sort of place Adrian could seek comfort, lingering in a corner, drink in hand. Conversation was rare when he came alone, unless made inevitable. It was easy to lose himself, counting time only by the number of glasses and the growing haze in his mind. Seeing Millicent wandering an art gallery as Lady Grant once more had felt like reason enough to cross the inn’s doors with every intention of drinking past memories. And the bill.
And that was precisely what he had done. Perched in the farthest corner, the brandy in his hand proved a poor companion — a traitor, offering nothing but softened torment. He could even feel it in his body, the tension gripping at his shoulders, weighed down by sleepless nights. Was that all his mind could muster now, even with alcohol seeping in? Complaints?
Until he froze. His gaze shifted from glass to man, and back to the glass, tilting it in his hand as though to inspect the liquor that remained. Strong enough to summon spirits, it seemed. Adrian dared another glance, this time allowing himself to take in the features of a face that made him feel twenty years younger and somehow, older still. “Ah.” He chuckled. “Not dead, nor married. But not untouched by either fate, I’m afraid.” Widowed. Bitter. In debt beyond coin. And still, he smiled at the man before him. Contained, but undeniable. His body shifted slightly on the stool, seeking a better view, still not fully convinced. “I like to believe, were you a ghost, your entrance would’ve involved a thunderclap and more… spectral attire. So I suppose it really is you, Claremont.” A purse of his lips. His cravat suddenly felt too tight. Or perhaps it was just his throat. “I thought—” A pause. His voice quieter now. “I thought you were lost in combat.”
Adrian was not the kind of man to frequent art galleries. He lacked the eye for such beauty — paintings, sculptures. Much like when he attended the theatre — to watch plays, operas, or ballets — he could admire the grandiosity, but his attention rarely lasted more than fifteen minutes. It wasn’t refined of him, and he knew it well. But when had he ever been the perfect picture of a high society gentleman? When necessary, he could always rely on the mask — nodding along, pointing out one or two obvious details, and twisting them just enough to sound clever. Oh, yes — that he could do. Pretend. But not when it came to her.
He spotted Millicent from afar, her gaze distant — absorbed in the details of a landscape encased in a gilded frame. Adrian stepped quietly to her side, eyes fixed on the marble floor — silent, unhurried. As if afraid to disturb her peace. She looked so beautiful when concentrated. He stood at a respectful distance. The moment felt almost symbolic. He had long circled her, caught in her pull, though never close enough to satisfy his longing. Once, she had drawn him in — until fate, or something like it, played its part and he let go. They had agreed upon it, parted ways with mutual understanding. And yet, whenever she was near, he struggled to recall why he had ever surrendered.
Adrian’s eyes lingered on the painting before them, and he finally dared to speak. Or at least, lightly clear his throat. “Well.” He exhaled, gaze shifting to hers. “Seems these exhibitions aren’t quite so dull, after all.”
"Alexander! Alexander, I swear, little boy - " Christopher had decided to take his beloved little five year old boy to the gardens that afternoon. The pair of them needed some good father son time, to walk about the gardens, and perhaps for Christopher to show him what a darling way the gardens could be. It was important for him, to show his only son the way that he was. Of course though, Alexander, much like his precious Maude, had a wild spirit to him at times, a young boy still for all of his obedience, and had began to play in the gardens rather than heed to his words of direction. "Alexander - you proper little scallywag!" He had laughed, and looked up when he realized he had drawn attention to himself. With his hands up, he chuckled. "Nevermind me - I am rather looking for a hiding five year old little bugger. Have you happened upon one?"
Adrian had sought a quiet corner of the gardens — walking about and finally settling on a bench under the shade of a tree, a book in hand — silently hoping not to be disturbed. The rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of birds had taken him far enough to nearly forget where he was, leaning over the pages with an unusually lazy posture — one he would regret later — legs crossed, a thumb resting against his lips in concentration.
He had just turned a page when a flicker of movement caught his eye — a small figure running past. Quick as a rabbit, but not nearly as silent as one. With a giggle of mischief, a little boy threw himself behind the nearest bushes, as though they might render him instantly invisible. Adrian did not react at first. He merely glanced toward the greenery, raised a brow, and turned back to his reading.
But, just as expected, someone appeared soon after — breathless, amused, and evidently in search of the child. Adrian closed his book, finger marking the page, and rose to his feet. He inclined his head toward the bush. “I believe your fugitive found himself an excellent hiding place.” He began. “Though I’d approach with care — judging by his laughter, he is quite ready to bolt again.” A small smile touched his lips as his gaze shifted to the gentleman. “You have my sympathies. He seems both quick and determined.”
The last two times he’d met with Adrian had been such a stark contrast of each other. First, after a night beyond anyone’s imagination when he’d attempted to flirt with Adrian after only for the efforts not to go his way, but he was still happy with the friendship made instead. Then, he found him at one of his lowest points and offered kindness without wanting anything else. It had the makings of a trued friend indeed. “Would it be too vain of me to agree with you about his taste? I’ll do it anyway,” he replies with an easy laugh to match the chuckle from his friend.
“Given how you and I met, you know that discretion is not a word I know, or one used to describe me. I’m not one for all the fuss but he wants a grand celebration, and I can’t deny him. You will, of course, be invited and I hope to see you there…maybe with someone on your arm?” The question he receives makes him pause, not expecting it even though its such an obvious one given how surprising his news is after declaring loudly and for so long that marriage wasn’t for him. “I feel as if I’ve known him longer than the short time we have.” A quick nod given. “Peter,” how he hated saying the false name, “and I are very new to each other, but it feels like there are years between us the instant our eyes found each other. It sounds so romantic and frivolous, I know!”
Marriage was a matter Adrian had long ceased to dwell upon. It had been ten years since he became a widower — and he had grown accustomed to a very different kind of life. His bond with his wife had been far from conventional. She had never loved him as he had loved her — and yet, what he had felt for her was so deeply rooted within him that he had not minded. It was a love that expected nothing in return, that knew no return would ever come. And just as he began to imagine that love might find him again after years of sorrow and grief, the one person to whom he had longed to give his all already belonged to another. Now, all he could seek was convenience through the bonds of matrimony — not out of desire, but of necessity. To witness someone marry freely and spontaneously was refreshing. And Adrian found himself quietly hoping that Tobias had placed his trust — and heart — in good hands. For if he had chosen to turn his life around for someone, then that someone must matter a great deal.
“I suppose such feeling warrants a celebration.” He said at last, one brow lifting. “I am not inclined to such grand affairs myself — but for an invitation so honourable, I shall make an exception.” His humour was dry, yet the smile that followed was sincere. “As for arriving with someone on my arm, I can make no promises.” His courtship of Countess Hermance had been progressing well enough — though he could still see hesitation behind her eyes, a restraint that nearly mirrored his own.
Tobias’ words on his new husband stirred his curiosity. Adrian would have assumed the pair shared a longer history. “Truly? Love at first sight, then?” His expression softened as he made an effort to smooth the habitual crease from between his brows. “You ought to leave some romance for the rest of us, my friend. And how did you come to meet, exactly?”
who: elijah & adrian ( @adricnh )
where: gentleman jacks
Elijah entered the gentlemans club on the arm of a man who always paid highly - but never really cared too much about what he did. The man liked the symbol of having someone on his arm, of not entering somewhere alone. After that, his attention was taken by other things. Things that would make the other a little poorer - but that wasn't for Elijah to comment on.
His companion was at the cards table when Elijah spotted a familiar face. "My friend!" Elijah beamed as the other came through the door. He was a few drinks deep by now and his inhibitions were lowered. Whatever it was that ensured his voice was at a normal volume was now gone. "You look good, my lord. It's good to see you back again."
A friend to everyone - that was what Elijah tried to be but there were few who he was truly friends with. Adrian was one of those people. It had been a friendship which had spanned a few years now - one which would be picked right back up again when Adrian was in town. He hadn't expected to see the other. "How are you doing, friend?" He questioned, a wide smile on his face.
It had been a long day. A touch wearisome — murmurs concerning the winners of the Baron’s Cup, a few glances exchanged across the busy streets of Mayfair — and already, Adrian had found himself longing for the quiet comfort of solitude, far from prying whispers and watchful eyes. There had been meetings, each one an obligation: a few measured words, a discreet envelope or two exchanged. By the time the sun dipped behind the chimneys, he felt a particular kind of restlessness — the sort that begged for distraction, warm and bitter. Before he had the chance to properly consider it, he was already at the club’s entrance — hat tucked beneath his arm. He moved with discretion toward the bar, gaze carefully distant, determined to avoid the performance of pleasantries. But then — a voice. Familiar. Boisterous.
He paused before turning on his heel, a flicker of fondness softening his features. His solitude had just been compromised by someone he’d rather missed in his time away. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — the kind of shift one might miss, if they weren’t looking closely. “Ah. It appears the club’s standards have slipped in my absence.” Adrian teased, arching a brow as he clapped a hand to Elijah’s back, grin lingering. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Hall. I take it by your tone that your evening began on good terms.”
Elijah was younger, yet there was something in his manner — in his way of seeing the world — that made the difference feel slighter than it was. Adrian held a quiet protectiveness toward him, born not of superiority, but of memory. Memory of the decisions he himself had made at that age — not all of them wise. And though his heart had long since hardened and cooled, he had always kept an eye on Elijah’s path, always glad to return and find him still standing tall. “I’m well enough.” He added after a pause, his voice low, the warmth of his tone subtle but sincere. “Though I confess, the Season tests my patience more with each passing day.” A tilt of the head. A gesture toward the bar. “Come — have a drink with me, before I talk myself out of it. You can tell me what trouble you’ve been causing. I imagine it’s a far better story than anything I’ve got to offer.”
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Given how quick he was to show off his latest accessory, he knew that people could easily tease him about it. The true depth of what it meant to him could never be said as that would mean putting his soulmate at risk of being discovered but he still wanted people to know just how much he was in love and happy. The past had been a dark place with no control over his own life or constantly being denied what he wanted, what he loved, but now that was over and he wanted to show it off to any friend he could. Adrian was one of those. Tobias thought the man had an easy draw about him, not quite as loud as he was but still something there.
“Completely honest. I’ve spilled every secret and flaw I have with the owner of this matching ring, and I found it so liberating. A relief, truly.” There was nobody else he’d trust with it and he wanted to let everyone know that he’d found his person, his one. “I suspect the ring was planned long before I bought up elopement given the intricacy of it. The stone is a rare one, larimar if you’ve heard of it.” It must have taken some time to make and just looking at it flooded him with the warm feeling of being chosen so intimately. “Peter Drake inspired it,” it felt so strange saying the false name. “He’s the master mariner and now my husband. Much calmer than I am and no escaping windows early in the morning,” he laughs. “I’ll have to introduce you!”
Adrian, who had spent most of his life being more restrained around affection — after all, there hadn’t been many opportunities for being blunt about it — found himself amused at the display of warmth and joy that poured from Tobias. Just the kind of spark that made even a cynic believe, for a fleeting moment, that love could be simple — if one dared to reach for it. Adrian raised an eyebrow at the mention of a matching ring and elopement, his lips curving into a subtle smile. His gaze shifted briefly to the wedding band, still intrigued by the stone so intricately set between bands of gold. “Not really — but he has good taste, I must say. For stones, of course.” His tone was dry, but the teasing was clear as a low chuckle escaped his lips.
His eyes never left his younger friend as he spoke, paying close attention. He couldn’t help but wonder how a match could be arranged so suddenly — and a love match, no less. In matters of the heart, he was far from wise — but it hadn’t been long since he’d last seen Tobias taken by sorrow, which made the news all the more surprising. “Your joy, Tobias, is clear. And I believe that’s something rare in a world that often demands discretion, even in moments of happiness. Bravo.” He tilted his head to the side, his grin lingering — small but sincere. “It is truly wonderful news. I look forward to meeting your calmer half. Have you two known each other for long?”
A few years ago, Millicent had given up feeling like this ever again. She had resigned a life to loving a man who no longer loved her back. The absence of love from the one she craved was a cruel form of torture. She roamed the streets of Mayfair like a ghost of her former self. She had never been someone who shone brightly but in those few years, it had felt like she was invisible.
So when Adrian came along - when he had seen her - it had taken her completely off guard. He was like a great feast when she had been left to starve. She had tried to resist the temptation. She had tried to be strong, loyal ... but she was too weak. She could not regret it, she would not regret it. What had happened between the two of them was a surprise but it was sacred to her now. She didn't know if she would ever be able to let go of the guilt that she felt and perhaps it was ruin them in the end. But oh how she was going to cling onto this for as long as she possibly could.
A fond smile slipped onto her lips as he spoke, "They are of the highest demand." She whispered. There was an intensity about the man beside her that would never cease to amaze her. She thought that they could have a lifetime together and it would never be enough. Each kiss she was granted from him made her heart sing. "A strong word but the truth, my love." Feeling the warmth of his body against hers was surely the closest any living mortal could come to heaven. If they could stay like this, entangled together between the sheets, then Millicent was certain no harm could ever come to them.
Millicent nuzzled against him as he spoke, her lips finding his neck for a mere moment - one kiss, two kiss - before she pulled back a little to look up at him, "I missed you too. Perhaps next time I will go with you." She knew that it wouldn't be easy but she was fairly certain that her reputation was already ruined. Benedict knew what she had done, after all. What use was it for the two of them to hide away for forever? If Adrian missed her as much as she missed him, why shouldn't she go with him? "And then I really will be able to haunt you - waiting in your bed for you to return to me." She smiled as she looked up at him. Even after a few years together, she couldn't believe how lucky she had gotten. She was completely infatuated. Millicent had always been the kind of person who would fall hard and fast. As he shifted the two of them, she giggled and quickly reached to place a tender kiss against his cheek, "Ruined you?" Millicent repeated as she pressed against him, her hand moving to trace gently against his chest, "My love, you were the temptation, the one who whisked me away. I think it is you who ruined me." She placed a kiss along the trail her finger had just followed, "But I would let you do it a million times over."
It was easy to fall for someone like Millicent — even for a man like Adrian, with all his sorrow and all his loss. At times, he had felt like no more than a shadow — lingering in corners, watching life pass him by. When his wife died, it was as though he had lost his purpose. He had spent those early years of mourning skirting the edges — of pubs, of gentlemen’s clubs, of dimly lit rooms. That had been his life. Dark, the path before him barely visible. Until her. Until they met. And in her voice, in her soft laughter, in the curve of her lips — he saw light again. But how long could he keep the flame alight, before the candle flickered — whether from wind, or the soft blow of her lips?
Adrian settled beneath her touch, his gaze drifting across her beautiful features. Her words, soft as they were, struck somewhere deep and unguarded within him. There were times when he found it easy to pretend — to surrender to the warmth of her body, the joy of her smiles, the peace he only ever seemed to find in her arms. But then came moments like this. When her affection was spoken aloud, offered without restraint — and it unsettled him. Not because he did not want it. But because, in truth, he wanted it with all his might.
A hum of contentment left his lips as she kissed his neck, his hand reaching up to gently caress her hair. “Come with me, then.” He said gently, a low murmur. “It’s time you saw the estate. It is no great manor, not like those one might see in other places, but the land stretches far — good for long rides.” In another life, had fate ever favoured him, Millicent would have been the lady of those grounds. More often than he dared confess, he found himself wondering what might have become of them had they met in earlier years. Would he have spotted her across a ballroom? Would he have dared an attempt at humour and charm before asking for the next dance?
Whisked her away. And it was true. What else could he claim? But hearing it from her lips was something else entirely. That day, it grasped at something inside him. His smile faltered — just slightly. After a long pause, his hand began to move along her back in slow, soothing circles as he drew her closer. He didn’t look at her as he spoke — couldn’t quite bring himself to — but the question pressed its way through, quiet and insistent. “Do you ever wish to go back?” He asked, voice soft. “To London?” His tone was steady, but something in it betrayed him — a note of fear, of longing, of not knowing what it might do to him, to them, if she said yes.
The amount he’d been smiling since the impromptu trip to Scotland and coming back just in time for the Baron’s Cup and after meant that his face should be aching, but he couldn’t help it. He was happy and much better than before that event. After a day of sorting out the particulars, he’d decided to take a break in Gunter’s with a cup of something hot and refreshing when he saw his new friend. “Adrian!” He beams, calling the other over. “I’ve not had chance to see you since I returned from my little trip.” The past few times they’d encountered each other had been very different. One filled with a pride and mischief with a glow from the night before, another filled with a deep sadness and now he was elated, basking in his good news and riding that high for as long as he could. “Much has changed since our last talk. Believe it or not, I’ve been made an honest man,” said holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers for a second to draw attention to the special band on his finger.
The cozy warmth of Gunter’s was a welcome break after a long day of hurried encounters and crowded streets. The air was sweetened by the scent of fresh pastries and hot drinks, and low murmurs of conversation filled the space, mixed with the occasional clink of porcelain. Adrian had been lost in thought, but as soon as Tobias’ cheerful voice reached him, his attention was drawn. He arched a brow slightly, curious. The tone of his greeting was unmistakably different from their last encounter, and Adrian could tell there was something more behind it. He approached the table and took the seat across from him without much ceremony. Before Adrian could speak, the wedding band now adorning his friend’s finger was proudly displayed. He laughed in quiet disbelief, leaning forward to take a better look at it. Little trip? Ring? Everything suggested he was in the company of a newly married man.
“Well, well — made an honest man, have you?” Adrian said with a half smile, small but genuine. It reminded him of his own brief happiness when he got engaged so many years ago. As little as that cheerfulness had lasted, he recalled it with a fondness he would not allow his bitterness to overshadow. Especially not when Tobias was basking in the glow of love and commitment. “Congratulations, Tobias. It is an extraordinary ring, too — I quite like the blue.” He added, gesturing toward the detail on the band, uncertain of what stone it could be. “Now, you’ll have to tell me more of this sudden transformation. I’m quite curious as to what — and more importantly, who — has inspired it.”
After so many years training and enduring leaving home together, there was no need for pretence between William and his horse. As odd as it would sound to anyone else, he and Cledwyn were bonded; there was a trust there that could not be replicated. William gave Cledwyn’s flank one last stroke before he turned to meet the man’s eyes, a little guarded given the many questions he had to answer today. Many had laughed at the idea of a groom riding amongst the English elite, or worse, they scoffed at Cledwyn’s breeding. “He can be stubborn, but I suppose that’s what makes us a great team.” William said as a faint smile crept across his face as he thought of the years he had spent with his horse. William gave Cledwyn a pat, and the horse snorted as if in agreement. “No, he doesn’t, but that’s because he knows I’d never put him in a position that would spook him easily.” Or at all. “If it’s not safe, he’d never ride, no matter the chance of a prize.” William cast another look over the man, thankful for the genuine questions and not just about the horse’s pedigree. William nodded at the man’s question, his smile never faltering. “For ten years, every day, no matter the weather. He may not be the fanciest on show today, but he’s got skill.”
There was something entirely different in the way the young man spoke of his horse, unlike most competitors Adrian had encountered throughout the day. There was no boast of lineage or speed — but rather a conviction in character and skill. Of course, he too held some regard for breeding — the tradition of bloodlines, the continuity of it — but it could never surpass trust and training. And between the pair before him, there seemed to be an abundance of both. There was pride in the other’s smile, and it was genuine. An answer to years of dedication — and Adrian, who often believed he had accomplished too little in life, respected it deeply. “Well, breeding may get you through the gate, but it will not carry you through the race.” He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over the stallion’s white coat. “Welsh, is he?” He asked with quiet curiosity, clicking his tongue just slightly to gain the horse’s attention. A ghost of a smile tugged at Adrian’s lips when he managed to get a clearer view of his face. “If it were up to me, I’d place my wager on him. The crowd may not yet see it, but I suspect he’ll make them look twice.” He hummed, thoughtful, before his eyes met the groom’s once more. “You’ll be the one racing him, I presume?”
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If he were to question her on Atticus, Josephine was not sure how she would respond. Her first love surely applied but that didn't feel enough. Although she also didn't know if telling him the whole sordid tale was right, either. She couldn't blame him if he were curious, though. She was certainly curious about his wife. She knew little about the woman but she was curious of his feelings towards her. Was he happy to look for another wife? Was he truly ready to move on? This day was not time for those questions, though.
The last thing that she wanted was to add any pressure on Adrians shoulders. If he wanted to tell her, she'd give him the space to do so. She was certainly glad, though, that he did. She thought it showed a level of trust between the pair of them. That was a good sign. "Sounds like the two of you have more in common than simply a dislike for mud." She joked, smiling a little.
She fell a little quieter as Adrian continued, as she listened to his story. She thought that she saw a little bit of shame flicker across his features. She reached up to gently trace her hand along his shoulder, as though imagining what had come before. "It is good that you took that lesson from it. At least there was some lesson to be learnt." She nodded as she dropped her hand from him. She liked Adrian. She thought that he was a truly interesting person. She was glad that the two of them were able to get to know one another now, "Is that the worst accident you had to deal with?"
She watched him closely to see what his reaction to her confession was. She was glad that he didn't disappoint her. She titled her head a little as he lent closer to her, a smile slipped onto her lips, "Well, who am I to say no to such a proposition?" Josephine countered. She liked that he didn't seem to pull away from her, that he wasn't appalled by the idea of her entering Gentleman Jacks. There was certainly a pro in his column. "I can ride well enough." She nodded. "But my sister Georgiana is the true horse lover of the family. And yes, Meadow is one of ours. Born and raised by our groomsman."
Adrian’s smile lingered for a moment as Josephine’s hand traced along his shoulder. There was a stillness to the gesture, and it reached somewhere deeper inside him — likely more than it ought to. But then, he brushed the thought aside, choosing instead to ignore the warmth and put out any sight of flame. “Worse accidents?” He repeated, humming in thought as he passed through his mental catalogue of past misadventures. And heavens — there were many. “I’ve had my share of accidents, I admit. But none quite so mortifying as that one. Though I did once fall straight into a stream during a hunt. My horse remained perfectly dry and, I daresay, looked rather pleased with himself.” He rolled his eyes, a sigh slipping from his lips. “No injuries, fortunately — though I never heard the end of it.”
There was something about her — Josephine. Grace, of course, but it was the boldness beneath that he found so quietly compelling. He liked that she seemed at ease with him, that their conversations had grown more open with each meeting. “Well, then it’s settled.” He said, his tone solemn. “Gentleman Jack’s it is.” Whether they were still jesting or not, he wasn’t entirely sure. But he would make it happen, if she wished it. At the mention of her sister, he let out a low chuckle.
“Ah, Georgiana? The bride-to-be?” He teased, grinning. “She intercepted me earlier, as I was making my way in search of you. Seemed to be inspecting me — likely making sure I’m worthy of your company, I suppose — and I’m not entirely convinced I met her expectations.” He laughed once more, amused. “But once I offered congratulations on her engagement, she was more than happy to speak of her betrothed. I do not believe she paused for breath for a full two minutes, poor girl.” He shook his head at the thought. “Impressive — such unwavering affection at her age.” Dangerous, too. A pause and his smile dimmed, but not unkindly. “How is it for you?” He asked gently. “To see her stepping into such a chapter?” A slight tilt of his head. “I’ve no siblings of my own — no younger Harrow to watch take flight. I imagine it must be… a peculiar kind of joy.”
He looked ahead as he spoke, watching the glint of sunlight on a passing horse’s coat. Then, with a glance back toward her, a familiar playful spark returned to his eye. “Still — if we’re to ride together, I do hope your ‘well enough’ includes staying in the saddle at a proper gallop.” He said, his tone dipping into mock severity — though the look on his face gave his meaning away. “I’d hate to have to rescue you, my lady. We wouldn’t live it down. And I’d be terribly worried, of course.”
“I propose fun and a wager based on our skills with some risks, of that I can agree. But what if the fun in existing if we do not push its boundaries?” Hunter said it all so casually, like if it were like any other drunken observation at the bar. A gentleman. Right. Hunter Thorpe was quite the gentleman with his unkempt hair and shirt just barely buttoned and his posture leaning towards more drunk than he actually was. Ever the specimen of the highest of society.
His eyes narrowed for just a second as thoughts overcame him. Did he want rounds bought from the other if he lost? The correct answer was no, but this needed to be sold as him wanting to be drinking. In truth, he did not want much of anything from this deal. Just the knowledge of victory. “Fair is fair is fair my new friend,” Hunter replied with a smirk. “We shall be…-Ah, there.” Another man, this one much more distracted, drink just next to him. An easy beginning for sure. Hunter burped, shaking his head. The illusion of a deeper intoxication. “I will most definitely explain all there is to those who catch us, should they. Worry not.”
Adrian shifted just enough to take a better look at his companion, catching the perfectly timed burp in between phrases — a deliberate sway in his movements, nearly… Performative. Or practiced, perhaps. Still, it was convincing enough to fool a room less observant — and frankly, most rooms were. He said nothing; if it was an act or not, it was far from his concern. And he could certainly use free drinks, coming from drunken or sober.
The first target wasn’t difficult to spot — a man halfway into his drink, perched near the two of them, too deep in his own thoughts to notice much of his surroundings. A warm up for a bigger challenge, for sure. Adrian let a coin roll in between his fingers as he glanced once to the side to search for any vigilant witnesses before his eyes shifted to Hunter once more. “Go on, then.” He said under his breath, a grin of mischief playing at the corners of his lips. “Your game, you lead the way. Let’s see if luck is on your side tonight.”
