𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬.

     𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 , but there is something sweet about her open excitement . a life spent in london has dulled the city in his eyes , every street and shop much the same as the last . is it any wonder , really , that he had fled at his first chance , desperate for adventure ? that he is restless now , tied to well - known shores ? yet to the princess , here is the adventure , even the tea shops thrillingly novel . it is as jarring as it is delightful . what must london look like to her , he wonders ? far grander than it seems to him , no doubt . ❛ just around the corner , your highness . no need to fret , you're not lost . ❜

dying    sunlight    sends    afternoon    sky        into    skittering,    picturesque    pastels    somewhere,    she’s    sure    of    it        …        but    these    parts    aren’t    made    for        beautiful        things.    finery    has    long    been    exchanged    for    𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑    -    𝚑𝚎𝚠𝚗    𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚜    that    collect    dirt        +        debris        /            elaborate    updo    yanked    out,    only    for    sable    tresses    to    fall    in    a    sleek    sheet.        (        she    appreciates    the    lack    of    pretense,    despite    it    all            …            nobody    pretends    to    be        any    grander    than    they    are        when    they’re    all    scrabbling    to    so    much    as    SURVIVE.    greedy    landlord    doesn’t    have    any    such    title,        +        she’s    right    to    call    him    a    𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴    𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗱    as    she    coughs    up    monthly    fare.    this    is    how    their    end    of    the    world    works,    grimy        +        𝖽𝗈𝗀    𝖾𝖺𝗍    𝖽𝗈𝗀,    why    limn    shit    in    gold        +        pretend    it’s    worth    having        ?        )        there’s    a    barbed    retort        brimming        on    the    tip    of    her    tongue    when    called    to        /        whirls    round,    ready    to    fire    but    something        …        𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒,    almost        ?        tight    frown    is    replaced    with    the    first    easings    of    a    gentle    smile,    one    shy    dimple    punching    the    corner    of    her    cheek.            ❝            hello,    𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛’.            ❞            liam’s    an    exception    to    her        abject    rejection         of    everything    about    sutton.    call    it    a    fondness    she    can’t    shake.            ❝            it’s    been    a    right    while,    hasn’t    it        ?        you’re    doin’    alright,    lookin’    out    for    yourself        ?            ❞

     𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 of sutton do not offer much , at first glance . here treasure takes the shape of an uncracked tea set , a modest dress newly made . and yet , amidst the lack of glittering gemstones and burnished gold , he finds a much more precious rarity— a smile freely given , without artifice or reserve . liam forgets , at times , just how cold the ton can be . and then diana smiles at him , easy and open , a hearthfire on a dark winter's day . it has been far too long since he last came home . he will not dally so again . ❛ gettin' by , ❜ with a shrug , rehearsed refinement fading into an honest drawl , ❛ can't ask for much more than that . ❜ and there is an emerging candor in words as well as voice , tactful niceties eagerly shed . a simple relief , this lack of pretense , though it has been far too elusive as of late . oh , he is truly glad for his position , surprisingly fond of his lord . but it is unspeakably lovely , to speak to a friend and know she expects nothing more than his company . here with her , liam is more himself than he has been in months . ❛ what about you ? work treating you alright ? ❜

"i've... been alright. it seems like the family is finally getting back to our routine," percy answered his schoolmate, doing exactly as the other said and taking a seat. he made no mention of his father's passing—every man in the nation already knew of that—or their six months of mourning. "and you? considering your presence, i assume you're looking for a match this season? every other year, i've always heard you insisted on continuing to work on the estate through the season. any prospects yet?" percy was quick to change the topic at hand, something he'd gotten rather adept at. he motioned to one of the servants he saw passing through the room, ordering a glass of wine, before sitting back comfortably in the seat. "and you joined a club, clearly."

     𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 , 𝐚𝐧𝐝 he has half a mind to call it out . but it has been an age since he has seen his friend , and he is loathe to blacken the mood with uncomfortable conversation . and so tristan lets the moment pass with no more than a pointed look . ❛ is it truly so strange to see me in a club ? i do socialize , you know . ❜ rarely , yes , and often begrudgingly . but he is hardly a shut - in . ( . . . isn't he ? surely someone would have told him so by now , had his reputation become that of a hermit . his present company , in fact , would have likely mocked him to no end . ) ❛ i am amenable to a match , ❜ he haltingly admits , as though each word pains him , ❛ though it has been more complicated than expected . ❜

     𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐛 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 surprise , though perhaps it should not . the thread that binds them has long been stretched taut , and it has at last snapped . inevitable , she knows . and yet she is still foolishly , pathetically hurt . a rush of irritation follows , aimed at herself rather than johanna . she had thought herself above such tender - hearted fragility . briskly , eve schools her expression into something disdainful . ❛ not dull enough , it seems , or else you would not have bothered me . did you expect a circus show in my bedroom ? ❜

     ❛ 𝐢 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐞 uncultured for this , but i have always had a taste for coffee . horrifically unenglish , i know . ❜ contrary to the rueful words , there is a sardonic lilt to his voice , amused and near mocking . the aristocracy and their rules . he has yet to become accustomed to all the frippery . ❛ and while i am making confessions , i may as well admit i cannot dance . i will have to take your word for it . ❜

     𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 so long at all , in some ways . it is so simple , with her beloved sister , to fall into step and into conversation as if they had never been parted . ❛ oh , you know me , my darling . as well as i ever am . i am far more curious about you . how is the ton treating you ? ❜

     ❛ 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥— 𝐝𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 if i can ever return the favor . ❜ just what he might assist her with , tristan is unsure , but debts must be repaid . even - especially - when they are owed to friends . he has come to enjoy isabelle's company , in ballrooms and bookstores both , and he would hate to be a bother . ❛ something whimsical , perhaps ? a fantasy story , or even a romance . to your taste , i presumed . ❜

     𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 the ton— some days , he fears most of them haven't grown past schoolboys . to have any sort of luck in business dealings , one must first play nice . join a club , share a drink , join a drink of cards . it is vexatious . he does not understand how they all bear each other , day in and day out . at least , he thinks , waving percival over with a nod , some company is preferable to others . ❛ hanover ! have a seat , won't you ? ❜ how long has it been ? long enough that he cannot put a proper number to it . it's strange , almost . as a boy , the two of them were never far . such is adulthood , it seems , though they have grown into vastly different men if the rumors are true . ❛ how have you been ? ❜

          bastard   .   the   word   was   never   one   she   fancied   ,   but   one   that   should   would   most   certainly   always   be   saddled   with   for   the   sins   of   a   father   who   was   no   longer   here   .   bright   green   eyes   ,   gifts   from   a   grandfather   she   never   knew   ,   blinked   the   sleep   that   still   remained   .   wild   dark   curls   that   could   never   be   tamed   no   matter   what   comb   or   styling   product   was   put   to   it   .   she   bounded   down   the   stairs   ,   smile   immediately   coming   to   her   face   as   she   moved   through   the   house   and   found   tristan   .   ❝   good   morning   ,   dear   brother   --   ❞   lily   said   .   her   siblings   made   her   way   of   birth   seem   𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋   .   they   never   treated   her   differently   ,   she   often   thought   of   that   with   misty   eyes   .   ❝   do   you   have   any   plans   for   the   day   ?   it's   a   lovely   day   out   ,   i   thought   we   might   have   a   picnic   .   ❞   tone   was   hopeful   .   perhaps   they   could   invite   joy   and   the   babes   . // @dancecards

     𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦— he does indeed have prior obligations , a meeting with some lord whose name escapes him . yet here comes his sweet sister , who so rarely asks for much , and he is loathe to deny her anything in his power to give . ( they have all been denied quite enough , tristan thinks in his surlier moods , for their father's sins . ) and it would be lovely , would it not , to have a family outing with marjorie and the boys ? he shall simply have to reschedule his appointment . if need be , he can feign a contagious illness of some sort . ❛ my day is entirely at your disposal , ❜ he tells her , setting down his papers with an easy smile . it is not a lie— he will make it so . ❛ have a note sent to joy and i shall ask cook to prepare a basket . any requests ? ❜

she’d    decided    that    they’d    long    since    passed        the    notion    of    acquaintances,    somewhere    between    his    𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽        +        𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗋𝖽    visit        ;        evidence    is    carved,    plain    to    see,    in    the    way    her    grin    brightens,    turns    impish        +        unspeakably    fond    at    the    corners    at    mere    sight.    freddie,    amongst    a    sea    of        𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂        that    she    can    only    dream    of    affording    for    herself            …            oh,    what    a    vision        !            ❝            is    that    so        ?            ❞            tilts    her    head,        +        is    that    the    faintest    erring    of    a    coral    flush    blooming    on    her    cheeks        ?            ❝            all    those    princesses,        +        you    prefer    the    company    of    a        seamstress        ?            ❞

     𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 found in the slight flush of her cheeks , sweet as spun sugar , and ire so keenly felt mere moments ago wanes . frederick grins , impudent and unrepentant . his charm , at the least , is not in lack . ❛ princesses require propriety , ❜ he reminds her , a mocking lilt to the word , ❛ how can i grow fond of someone when we cannot freely speak ? ❜ this he says , in defiance of all decorum , to his mother's modiste . yet this friendship they have struck up , as odd and unseemly as it may be , does not risk international incident or a hasty dash down the aisle . it is a liberty he has near nowhere else , and he likes her all the more for it . the storied glamour of the ton may enrapture aiyla , but he has begun to covet her own simple peace . ❛ and really— you do make for steep competition . i'm told only saints could tolerate me this long . ❜

               she   was   nothing   but   a   fraud   ,   poor   little   thing   dressed   up   in   clothes   that   she   could   never   afford   on   her   own   .   clothes   provided   by   a   man   who   was   one   of   many   ,   vying   for   her   devotion   and   attention   but   not   for   anything   other   than   the   superficial   .   cerulean   eyes   wandered   to   a   beautiful   necklace   ,   not   too   ornate   --   rather   simple   actually   ,   but   still   too   much   for   her   .   the   merchant   saw   her   eyeing   the   piece   and   offered   for   her   to   have   a   closer   look   .   ❝   oh   ,   no   thank   you   .   it's   𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋   ,   but   i   don't   think   it   would   suit   me   ,   ❞   blush   paints   pale   cheeks   pink   as   arms   cross   protectively   over   herself   .   ❝   do   you   have   anything   more   simple   ?   ❞

     𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 to object . ladies’ fashions are hardly his area of expertise , and he is only here as a companion besides . best to keep silent unless asked for an opinion . still , he loathes to hear cassandra say such things . a pebble in his boot , a bee about his head— an ever persistent annoyance that threatens to drive one mad . ❛ and what is unsuitable , ❜ and that is émile's own voice , run off without conscious command , ❛ about beautiful jewelry for a beautiful woman ? ❜ flirtatious words from another , but from him they are clipped and wire - tight . it is not right , for an accident of birth to pronounce her undeserving of such pleasures . ❛ it's a mere pittance for him , in any case . ❜

     𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞 , were she pretend to be abed ? the trip had been long and taxing , after all , and it would not be so strange if she yet felt worn . it is a dangerously tempting idea , and she has not pride enough to balk at cowardice . but such a ruse could only succeed for so long , when one resides with whom they wish to evade . ❛ it's unlocked . ❜ not quite an invitation , but as much as one as she is willing to extend . there is no pretty way to state it— she does not want to speak to johanna . it is awkward and agonizing as of late , and she harbors no delusions that today will prove different . strange , really , to have been better sisters before learning they truly were . ❛ do you need something of me ? ❜

he could sense she was tense, perhaps he had intruded, and should mind his own business. he paused for a moment, contemplating his response to the other. ❝ then i will let you , but it doesn't mean i will not worry. ❞ he knew worrying for someone he did not know was far fetched , however , he was merely concerned at such an hour -- why would one wish to venture alone. ❝ i understand , you can never be too careful , especially with somebody you are unfamiliar with. ❞ he was relieved to hear her acceptance , moving to her side to begin their patrol. ❝ i am luis by the way .. ❞

     𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 , 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 . the sooner they reach her street , the sooner this misadventure will be over with . she will simply have to try again , armed with a better sort of plan . ❛ a pleasure to meet you , sir , ❜ she recites , long - worn habit besting her annoyance . luis . from the spanish convoy , perhaps , or the portuguese ? assuming he has given his true name , which she does suspect he has . complacency , she wonders , or simple certainty that she is no danger ? ( how could she be , however ? it strikes her as rather unfair , that a man's reputation would be bolstered instead of ruined by rumors of midnight escapades . ) ❛ i am leila , ❜ eve says . not quite a lie— it is her second name . but a safeguard still , should his lips prove loose . ❛ i do hope you'll refrain from gossiping about this . ❜

doing  as  told  had  never  been  an  issue  for  the  young  malhotra,     so  when  news  broke  of  her     betrothal,     though  she  wonders  if  could  even  be  referred  as  such, she was eager to meet the gentleman suggested.     after  all,     nothing  had  been  made  definite  on  either  side.     their  promenade  was  simply  that,     and  yet,     she  was  easily     𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳     .  .  .      the  grounds  were  practically  breath  taking  and  though  it  was  easy  to  note  that  her  companion  of  the  morning  was  less  then  interested,     she  paid  little  head  to  it,     and  still  put  her  best  foot  forward.     ❝     oh  i  certainly  had  a    splendid    time,     i  don't  think  i've  dance  that  much  before  !     ❞     joyous  is  the  tone  that  coats  her  tongue  as  they  walk,     exuberant  and    gleeful    as  he  makes  conversation,     her  thoughts  lighter  now  than  in  the  silence.     ❝     i'll  be  sure  to  save  you  a  space  on  my  dancecard. but ⸻ did you enjoy yourself ?     ❞     she  asks  him,     knowing    she  would  truthfully save him a space on her card

     𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬— there are some that teeter precariously on tongues , desperate to be told . and there are those that burrow into one's chest , to be tucked away quiet and safe . the one he holds now is the latter . it is not so noteworthy an occasion— to dance at a ball and be charmed by a partner . yet frederick finds himself unwilling to share . under the harsh light of day , he frets , perhaps gemstones will emerge as merely glass , the strange allure of the night chased away . ( and really , what has he to tell ? he hadn't even learned her name . ) ❛ i did indeed , ❜ he simply states , a faint smile flitting across his face . ❛ i didn't expect much . truthfully , the parties tend to blur after the fourth . ❜ far more truthfully , in fact , than he has been with leyla before . but there is much on his mind , and it is hardly a secret that he cares little for the social season . in any case , he can think of far poorer confidantes than she . ❛ but it seems we are bolder under masks . i expect all sorts of interesting stories in the coming weeks . ❜

there's  a      sense      of  irritability  in  his  fingers     .  .  .     they  tap  repeatedly,     aggressively     against  the  rim  of  china,     uninterested  in  the  darkened  liquid  the  resides  in  the  pale  cup.     feet  fidget,     shoe  covered  toes  scraping  the  fabric  on  the  back  of  his  legs,     𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚂   𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃     and  his  mind,      oh  how  it's  filled  with  everything,     all  at  once.     crystalline  eyes  are  vacant,     as  if      there  were  no  thought  behind  them,      but  there  were  so  many  and  he  was  drowning  within  them,     but  her  words  that  break  the  surface  of  silence  are  enough  to  wake  him  from  them,     to  release  their  grip  on  him  as  she  comes  to  focus.     ❝     there  are  far  too  many  for  only  a    penny.    ❞     he  attempts  a  jest,     falling  flat  between  them.     ❝     i'm  not  entirely  sure,     my  love,      i'm  not  entirely  sure.     ❞

     𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 , though in truth she had expected as much . it is enough , at present , that he has seemingly returned to the here and now . she had not cared for the eerie blankness of his gaze , for the sensation of being stared through . still , this admission presents a different sort of trouble— aylin has never quite mastered the art of comfort . it helps , does it not , to simply listen ? she's surely heard notion before . ❛ would you tell me what worries you ? ❜ she tries , soft and sweet as she so rarely is . ( a dangerous admission , in a way . i worry for you , i care for you , throat brazenly bared for a strike . there is no peril here , she knows , yet some nights she feels it still . even so , she forges on . ) ❛ i assure you , ❜ —lighter now , in hopes of raising leopold's spirits— ❛ i can well afford it . ❜