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who: Anyone in the Ton where: The Barnett House(for the gemstone Ball)

After returning to London, there was an odd sense of weight on his shoulders. He hadn't been to a ball in a long while, and his mother insisted that he should. It was the quiet grief that was distracting him away from the social season; it was his work that kept him away long hours. He merely needed to move forward again.

Genevieve's smile bloomed at the compliment, folding her hands behind her back. For all she hated about Mayfair, she was confident in knowing most of the people she had come across were kind and willing to interact with newcomers. Granted, newcomers were all the rage in London.

Harriett smiled back, watching her carefully. There was something different (in a good way) that she couldn't quite figure out. That was something rare for her as she typically could clock things quite easily just from being observant.

The gambling room greeted them with warmth, noise, and the sharp snap of cards against felt. Edgar breathed it in like fresh air. It felt good to be back. He led them toward a table where a game was already underway, all low voices and watchful eyes. Edgar dropped easily into an empty chair and nodded to the seat beside him. "Come on, then. Sit before you remember you're meant to be sensible." One of the men stiffened slightly at the sight of Arthur. Edgar only smiled, reaching into his coat and laying down enough coins for them both.

Arthur eyed the table carefully. One game would not hurt. The evening was still young, there was still lowlight outside. He did his best not to show his hesitation. The expectation was a friendly game. His eyes glanced at the empty seat that was open for invitation. He chuckled deeply, with a slight shake of his head before taking the offer. His head lifted and he glanced at Edgar expectantly.

Opening her eyes, Ceara couldn't help the way she softened hearing the genuine kindness in Arthur's tone. She wouldn't deny co-existing together when he was more understanding than she felt she deserved. "A reprieve," she said. "It...has been quite a long day, which has turned into a longer evening."

"Indeed," Arthur agreed about the evening being long. He had been observing for most of the while, and now speaking to Ceara, he could see she had something on her mind. "No matter," he said. He understood. There had been plenty of excitement throughout the evening.

there was a slither of hope that she may recognise old friends among the crowd, people she had wrote letters to over her course in france - to no avail, unfortunately - and she had not wanted to bother rosalind at such an event. her father may be her cousin and the family was close, but to be trailed by your older second cousin wasn't the best look for a young lady.

Arthur nodded his head in acknowledgement. It probably was still a surprise to most that he had been so eager to engage in any kind of small talk. But so far, the ball was quite lively and seeing it so lighthearted meant that it would be a success, and a win for the Barnett family. He glanced around. "Are you enjoying the ball?" he asked. He had been observant of the crowd, the music, the dancing.

Arthur had his own feelings about their mother, whom he knew had never changed, and never would change. They had different ideas about how things should be run. While his father had a different understanding, Arthur had adopted some of his methods, inherited part of his personality. It had been months but he still felt like the grip was loose on something he had been learning his whole life.

Edgar listened as they walked, the ballroom music fading into the softer hush of the corridor. Arthur’s words lingered between them, careful in the way they always were now. "You say that like it's not still on your mind," Edgar said mildly. A small shrug followed. "But I get it. Everyone here likes to pretend the walls are listening. Half of them are just hoping someone else believes it first."

"How could it not? Nearly driving my family into financial ruin? You seem to know more about the situation than I do," Arthur hummed, watching him carefully. "I am certain half of them are hoping that it remains true and I make more mistakes in the future,"

"The minimum," Harriett said, holding back her sigh. But she smiled a bit. "That is because I spent the morning watching the band come in and practice. They were quite off key until I mentioned it. How difficult was it to play something correctly, especially when trying to read? One would think seasoned musicians would have the thought..." she pursed her lips together, before watching Kitty walk right up to the band and request the new song. They seemed to be just as surprised and quickly the tone of the music changed.

Frederic hadn't expected to bump into any of the Barnetts, even though he was in their home. He, of course, had run into one of them sooner or later. He makes a small noise when he meets Harriett's gaze. "Hm, oh, it's right," He deadpans when he realizes who he had run into. fantastic.

Harriett huffed and watched him carefully. "Right," she said and took a look over what he was wearing. "Just because you seem to be in the right color scheme at the moment. But you know, you could also just be doing it for the attention," she raised a brow. "So you were not? You are just standing here brooding because you don't have much else to do?"

Junho looked at him, and his eyes had a bit of a twinkle in them. He looked excited, and in that moment, he started to talk about books and poems. He even slightly grabbed at the king's arm to show him some of his favorite books. He hadn't even thought that he was royal. He simply doesn't stop talking, but he does pause when he looks over, and he steps closer to the king. "Tell me," He said, eager to know all about the poems that Arthur liked. He set his hands behind and tilted his head slightly at him.

Arthur watched the other man with a chuckle, nodding at the other to show him what he was referring to. He liked listening to others talking about books they enjoyed. Now as a father, he was very much more attentive to conversations. "The epics," he said. "My tutors made sure I was well verse in the epics,"

Rosalind considered her for a moment, noting the anxious scratch of her arm. The woman before her seemed to be caught between frustration and resignation. "As for conclusions, I try not to dray them from rumor. They tend to be shaped by people who enjoy the story more than the truth. The truth is rarely so simple as society prefers it to be." She exhaled a breath that she didn't realize had been stuck inside of her. "There is nothing wrong with preferring books to dancing. I myself would agree. Book are honest about the sort of story then intend to tell." She noted. "No, I don't think you should simply go with what everyone wants. That would be a rather miserable way to live." Her tone was calm but firm. However, she did find amusement in the hypocrisy of her own words. Exactly what she was saying not to do, was what Rosalind had allowed this season to be about. "When it comes to the marriage market, the trick is to not become what everyone expect. It's about learning enough of the rules that you know which ones may be bent without breaking yourself."

Harriett watched her, listening for a moment. Rumors spread quickly, and they tended to have a life of their own. If one did not catch them ahead, then they'd spread like wildfire or disease. With Whistledown lurking around every other corner, it was hard to ignore. "Books also have less to live up to and fewer expectations," she said. If she had to just live with every expectation, which she actively avoided doing in the first place, Harriett felt like she'd just lose a part of herself. She didn't so mind the dancing. Maybe it made her a little nervous, but still, she enjoyed music. It was the finding a dance partner that scared the living daylights out of her. "So what you are telling me is to keep breaking the rules and let them change around me, instead of waiting for them to change?" she asked, looking at Rosalind again.

Dominic would’ve been happy to miss this event, but it would be useless. His mother would’ve insisted, an attempt to bridge the feud, but Dominic didn’t want to mend it. They tried to lie, to pull his brother into it and trap him. He wouldn’t forgive or forget that. Dominic paused, surprised that one of the Barnett's would approach him. He didn’t know if she was being bold or stupid. Possibly both. “Do they think you’re a lady?” Dominic asks, scoffing as he did. He took one look at her and knew she’d be the first to break this new farce. Scuffed shoes and mud on her heels said it all. “Let me offer you one.” He says, putting his drink down. “I see you’re not dressed properly for the occasion, but your family hasn't been able to spend so much in the past; we all know you’d all need some adjustment.” This was the family Frederic had wanted. Liars and degenerates – people who didn’t know how to act in society. It was good that Dominic was trying to lead them in the right direction.

Harriett watched him. "Do they find you a gentleman?" she asked in retort. She wasn't one to start an argument but she could put up with most of them because she was stubborn enough to say things out loud. She wasn't unfamiliar with the family, and she was rather unimpressed at the moment. "Is that why you are hiding in the corner?" She felt her cheeks warming up as he spoke about her family. "An adjustment to the fair crowds that you see right now?" she chirped, suddenly anxious about whether or not he was actually right. The family had been doing their best, which is why the ball was happening, and getting in good graces with the ton was better than sitting still and doing nothing at all. In her mind, there were worse things that people could be talking about right now. "Do you go around with that unimpressed expression trying to get some ruse out of people or is that just your face?"

Edgar slipped into step beside him easily, like they had done this a hundred times before rather than under the eyes of half the ton. The ballroom noise softened as they moved further down the corridor, though the distant music still followed them faintly. "I had a feeling you thought this was about the debt - am I correct?" Edgar said after a moment, glancing over at him with the ghost of a smile. "You can stop looking like you're about to negotiate a treaty." His tone was light, easy. "If I truly cared about being repaid, Arthur, I'd have started asking before you became king."

Arthur looked over at him and pursed his lips deliberately to appear like he was deep in thought. His stance changed at Edgar's words and his tense shoulders were relaxed. "I can't help but have it and much else on my mind," he stated. He was observant, and as king, he also had to be wary about anything anyone said.

Elliot was making his way through the crowd, it seemed that as the night went on, the livelier the music, and the guests became. Not that he would be one to complain, Elliot enjoyed a good party. Where else could one get the latest gossip besides either a party or Lady Whistledown? As he was about to pass by someone they turned, and were now standing face to face to him, offering him a greeting, giving her a small bow his head, and offered a smile.

Her eyes went wide before straightening herself up again with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Pardon me," she said quickly, trying to come up with some excuse as to why she'd be trying to leave the dance floor. Surely someone would notice her by now.