𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

SIMONE ASHLEY as KATE SHARMA BRIDGERTON (2020) | s02 ep07 'HARMONY'

Lily James as Cinderella CINDERELLA (2015)

daniela then looked expectantly between him and the tray, wondering if the gesture would be enough for him to realize she had accepted his bargain. however, to further ensure the man knew she had decided to agree, the maid lifted her own finger and crossed an ' x ' over her right bosom. " i promise , my lord, that if you sample one . . . i will sample one as well . " her other hand, however, had disappeared and was now tucked behind her back ; pointer and middle twisted together as she crossed her fingers.

               Hues followed as a single finger crossed an ' x ' over her bosom. Every ounce of himself wanted to believe her. That she would pick one up right after him and pop it right in her mouth to be able to enjoy the delectable treat that had been selected for the ball. But another part of him knew that not all promises were kept, especially between strangers. ❝I shall keep you to your promise,❞ he swore, as if he had any control over the matter. Only after his declaration did fingers pop the tiny treat between his lips. The portions, as he was saddened by, were tiny. It was not long before the delectable treat was gone and the taste felt faint in his mouth. ❝I believe the treats from last season were better.❞ He dared to offer, though quietly to keep such an opinion between the pair. ❝Now, it is your turn.❞

leaning forward, perhaps a bit boldly, daniela allowed her fascination and playful outlook at the matter at hand to bleed into whispered syllables. " is this a trap, my lord ?? are you looking to get me in trouble ?? " yet, despite the accusatory question, the maid grinned. chocolate eyes found themselves dropping to the tray between them, the hue of the frosted pastries matching the irises that laid upon them. " i must insist you try them first. . . " she drawled, expelling a dramatic sigh as she straightened her spine once more and returned a comfortable, respectable distance between them despite the table acting as a clear and concrete divide . " your pallet is far more refined than mine, my lord, as i will undoubtedly say anything on this table taste good given as what i have to hold them to in comparison is rations and table scraps. "

               Watching the other as her head tilted one way, and then the other, it was fascinating. He didn't know why but the movements were interesting. Taking in the sight as she seemed to contemplate his words. The male never meant any harm by it. It seemed unfair to have to wander around the ball with a tray in your hands, offering tiny treats to guests and watching them enjoy, all while you were not allowed to taste them yourself. It felt sickening in his stomach. Her whispered question had a hand raising, a single finger crossing an ex over the left side of his chest. ❝I promise, I do not mean to get you in trouble or to make it feel as though this is a trap.❞ He swore to the other, this quiet promise, attempting to keep the words away from the other guests to keep from drawing attention. The insistence had the male offering a single firm nod before reaching out to take one of the treats. ❝I shall have one, but only if you have one as well.❞

               Eyebrows quickly raised against his features. ❝To ask a betrothed lady for a dance? Alas, I would never dream of such a transgression.❞ It was difficult. Once you feel comfortable with someone, to fall back into the reclusive shell. Especially when there was not much for a reason. They simply — changed their minds. There was no dramatic duel between suitors or sizzling gossip for Whistledown. Nothing to make the change, that felt so drastic, easier. ❝I appreciate your blessings, Lady Cavendish.❞

" no, my lord, these dessert tables are for the queen's esteemed guests. i am but one of her maids, so these diminutive delicacies are not for the likes of myself." clearing her throat, stepping back from the table, daniela felt as if she had been caught in the act of a crime simply by entertaining conversation across the ornamented table and laughing at his implications. " — but her majesty selected the menu, so i have no doubt what she chose is nothing short of lovely. "

               Considering the difference in status, he should not have been surprised by her hesitance and reaction to his jump to a conversation. Many maids he came in contact with often gave him nothing more than a nod or a shake to their heads if he dared attempt a conversation, dare blur the lines of formalities. It was unfortunate. Ellis enjoyed traveling not simply for the adventure of it but for the conversations. The passion behind words and the way souls could slip out in mysterious ways; how different and yet alike people could be. ❝The size certainly is not your fault.❞ Truly, he did not care much for the size difference. Though he had an itching theory in the back of his mind that the Queen was playing a trick on them with these proportions. Each year it felt as though they got smaller. ❝In all candor, I find it difficult to place complete trust in the palate of Kings and Queens. Pray, why not indulge in a sample? I vow to keep your secret.❞

               ❝Diversity is indeed a delight, one that lends intrigue and variety to the bonds of matrimony. Yet, you find great pleasure in whirling amidst the ballroom. It strikes me as rather a pity that he would not partake in such joyous revelry with you.❞ Maybe it was laced with far too much honesty, but he had gotten so used to being able to speak to the other without the worry of covering his words. ❝It is, after all, your marriage.❞

               It was instinctive to nod toward her words to confirm the information he had brought back with him from his adventures. This was their arrangement for as long as he could remember. Knowledge and tiny gifts for Veronica, an attempt to help sweep her away from Briar Glen and allow her onto his travels, in some way. Of course, never forgetting the sweet treats for Noemie, as well. ❝I heard it from a man outside of an academy. He raved on about these tiny rings.❞ While he could not remember every detail of the rantings and ravings of that older man, he did remember the passion that came from his words. How insistent he was. It was her own words, however, that had his head tilting slightly. ❝Oh, dearest Veronica, you could never look common.❞ Gentle words came with an equally gentle smile for his dear friend. ❝Charms? Certainly, they possess not the slightest clue of your true nature.❞

               It amazed Ellis the way time could change things. How you could go from one feeling like someone had the potential to be your entire world to talking like strangers. Months, but it felt like it happened overnight. ❝Not as much dancing? Your betrothed is not compelling you onto the dance floor? Sounds like he may be lacking. Maybe he is a terrible dancer.❞ Broad shoulders lifted in the slightest of shrugs towards his own words of the man. Somehow, in some way, the jab felt necessary. As though it were meant to be a requirement coming from a prior suitor.

catching the eyes of someone across the table, she offered a most insincere and painfully practiced smile. she knew better than to speak to members of higher class than her first ( it was one of the rules she actually did follow ) , turning one of the trays of finger foods so the side that housed more delicacies faced the other.

               A ballroom surrounded by pretty dresses and fake smiles. It was certainly far from an enjoyable night to the male himself. The way the chandelier glimmered above him had caught his attention for too long. For quite some time, the male found himself leaning against the ballroom wall, head tilted, colors locked onto the chandelier as it slightly swayed due to all of the movements in the hall. A part of him wondered if it would come crashing down. Smash into a thousand tiny crystal pieces directly in the middle of her Majesty's magnificently extravagant ball. Oh, how Whistledown would salivate as such a dramatic event. Ellis could imagine the disastrous looks of mamas as they rushed their daughters out to keep their pretty dresses from being ruined. How dare their ladies be seen as anything less than porcelain perfect? His attention was only pulled away at the sight of another. Not a debutant in a pretty dress, waving a dance card in his face. But someone with something far more precious — food. It had colors drawing down to the plate, a single brow raising against his features at the sight. ❝They are exceedingly diminutive. It seems each year, the portions grow ever smaller.❞ Ellis' gaze lifted to find the features of the other, offering a slight bow of his head, a gentle gesture. ❝Have you indulged in these? Do you like them?❞

               ❝Indeed, her Majesty possesses the all-knowing word.❞ The gentleman himself was not as skilled to hold back every ounce of his sarcasm, unable to help the way it managed to coat his tongue. It was the sight of the other as she curtseyed that had pulled the male into reality. Priscilla Cavendish — someone who meant something else months ago, but now nothing was the same. It left feet stepping back a single step to provide added distance for the other. ❝Lady Cavendish,❞ he returned formal words with a slight bow to his head. ❝How do you find the inaugural ball of the season? Is it all that you longed for?❞

               She assumed it was truly always the Queen's goal to continuously surpass the previous ball. She was, of course, the Queen. The royal ball had to be the grandest and have the biggest turnout of the Ton. It almost seemed as if it were a requirement each season. ❝I ponder how she shall outdo herself in the coming season. Perhaps birds within? Elegant swans? Or dancing monkeys, perchance?❞ The woman attempted to not be too loud as if to give away her such genius ideas for the Queen's next ball. ❝And you, dear Yeying. How do you fare on this splendid evening? Has any gallant gentleman yet taken a place on your dance card?❞ While the outlook Rishima had on the market was anything but bright and shiny, she still held out the most hope for others. She wanted everyone to find their special someone that they could live their lives with in happy pleasure. Something more than just a match made in a season.

it was always pleasant when his sister was beside him - it washes away nerves that he'd never had before on such an occasion. his first year debuting since the end of his betrothal. And he was already surrounded at the door when they walked in. "It is a rather lovely chandelier though." He mused, staring at it and wondering if he could ever acquire one for their home. without looking to her ( still looking at the chandelier ) long fingers wiggled to her as a sign of - let's see the dance card. he was mainly focusing on her prospects tonight , highly uninterested in his. "wouldn't be you , surely. you are to plain." he teased. "and I'd rather not deal with a hundred callers at our door."

               Something about the way his fingers wiggled in the air had delicate brown hues rolling. It had fingers twisting to pull the dance card from tied around her twist, holding it out to the other, held between two fingers. ❝To be declared the Diamond is a most dreadful prospect. The incessant scrutiny, the obligation to satisfy Her Majesty, and the relentless anxiety of never quite meeting the expectations of both her and the Ton, I most certainly decline. Moreover, I am certain my beloved brother perceives me as the most exquisite gem – or, he ought to.❞ Her last words came with a quick striking tease to her tone. ❝I would prefer to avoid the throng of suitors at our doorstep. Most seek naught but a generous dowry and a vessel for progeny, rather than engaging in delightful conversation and hobbies.❞

the baroness had been staring out into the crowd with a bitterness. fingers clutched to an unmarked dance card as she watched the youths dance and mingle. she stood next to the lemonade table but the area around her was bare - as if people didn't want to be associated with the honeyfield widow. she was still young - just barely into her marriage when her husband oh so -- peacefully passed in his sleep. he was rather old , wasn't he? and yet the women gossiped underneath their fans - the men circled around as they joined in their own idle gossip. she felt --- outcasted. "hmph." she finally resided to her fate and opened her fan -- aggressively. and when someone approached towards the table - she looked away.... then noticed they didn't reach for a lemonade. did they occupy the seemingly cursed bare space near her. "i would recommend you find somewhere else to stand. this spot is cursed by the dreadful widow ; supposedly."

               Isabel herself was not much for idle gossip. When ladies would gather together over a Whistledown and whisper beneath their breaths as if their harmful words would not bring pain to strangers, the blonde herself pushed far from the actions. It did not keep her ears entirely clean of rumors, however, especially when you found yourself in such a large household as she did. Mei Honeyfield was a name she had heard before and it was rarely laced with kindness for a woman who had lost someone — no matter how old he was. She had approached the other when it appeared she was standing off in a dark corner, no others attempting to approach. The response she received had the young Dowager Viscountess herself releasing the smallest of chuckles. ❝Is this the designated sanctuary for widows? I dare say they neglected to inform me of my rightful alcove.❞

               A large part of her wanted to keep her feet within the confines of the Fortescue Estate. To wrap up under her blankets and hide in the dark as others swiftly twisted their bodies across the dance floor she once enjoyed so much. But the other facts came into play. Her soul wouldn't allow her to dwell in her grief any longer, at least, not hidden away in a dark chamber. She also knew at least one of her siblings would find themselves knocking at her door until she finally emerged and they could drag her to the Queen's magnificent ball. Hands were in front of her as she swayed across the ballroom, colors taking in the sight of others pairing together onto the floor. Fingers toyed with the gloves that covered her hands, hopeful the distraction would ease her discomfort. Nothing felt more heartful and warm, however, than the sight of the familiar young lady. Watching as she gently swayed to the music until she came to a stop. ❝I am most certain you shall appear exquisite upon the dance floor, Noemie.❞ The compliment came swiftly from her tongue once she found herself beside the other, returning her attention to the dance floor that seemed to be the center of Noemie's focus. ❝Have any suitors managed to pique your interest as of yet?❞

               Colors scanned the ballroom to take in the sights. A new season and yet, the vision was always the same. Ladies curtseyed and waved their fans across their chests, some even went as far as to faint onto the floor for the attention of the suitor they had their eyes on. A new season, but always the same sights. The words from the other had the male releasing a breath of a chuckle. ❝It all comes across as exceedingly coarse. The spectacle of presenting all the ladies before the Queen as if in some grand showing. I fear I shall never grow accustomed to it.❞