Lady Rosalind Murray

But then she smiled again, and the lighter mood returned to him almost instantly, quick as flame catching. "Ah, there it is," he said warmly, pointing at her as though she'd just proven something important. "You did enjoy yourself. I knew it." He looked absurdly pleased by this discovery. "And to think society insists that men spend years learning conversation when apparently all one truly needs is a fountain and catastrophic decision-making." He took a slow step backward, hands lifting in surrender. "Though now I face a terrible dilemma, Miss Murray. If this was accidental, then I cannot promise to repeat it." A grin tugged crookedly at his mouth. "And if it was intentional, then I become deeply concerning company."

When he pointed at her enjoyment, Rosalind raised her brow slightly. "You seem pleased with yourself for discovering what I have not yet admitted." Even at her words, the faint smile remained. "I will concede that your method of conversation has been far more memorable than most." Pausing for a moment, the woman glanced at the fountain the man was just on. "I would not advise making catastrophe your primary social strategy. It may be effective, but I suspect it will be rather hard on your wardrobe." At his dilemma, Rosalind tilted her head slightly, studying him with quiet interest. "Perhaps the answer lies between the two. Accidental enough to remain charming but intentional enough that I should know better than to trust you near decorative stonework." Her voice was steady but amused. "As for being concerning company, I have met enough dull company in London for my entire lifetime. Concerning may prove to be an improvement."

|| LOCATION || The Barnett Gemstone Ball

She had seen many grand things. Imposing towers and ancient architecture. People of all ages, sizes, cultures. And yet, seeing the grandeur of the Barnett foyer and ballroom was something to tell. Jewels adorned the walls, reflecting off the marbled flooring. Everyone was dressed to the nines and glittered beneath the soft lighting of the room.

Riya was astonished. She felt as if she could fit right in alongside the uppity folks here in Mayfair. Approaching the drinks table, she poured herself a small glass of punch, trailing her eyes along the finger foods. A multi-layered tray filled with desserts reminiscent of gems. Emeralds, topaz, alexandrite, jade, opal, and others she could not quite name. They were much too beautiful to dare eat, though people were snagging them with a quickness.

Feeling someone beside her, she smiled sheepishly. She wasn't always bashful unless it truly mattered. "Is it obvious how much I am enjoying all of this?"

At Riya's question, the woman turned to her and noted the sheepish smile with quiet attention. "Perhaps a little, but I would not consider that a failing," she added. Her voice was calm and even as her gaze briefly turned over to the ballroom. "I imagine our hosts intended exactly this response. Admiration is rather difficult to avoid when one is placed inside a box of jewels."

Everything about the Barnett’s success offended him. It wasn’t earned, but Dominic understood the reasons behind this show. By wearing masks adorned with jewels, the Barnetts were demonstrating to the world that they now had money. Dominic knew the truth. Just like the moissanite’s pretending to be diamonds, the Barnett’s were trying to put on a facade. Eight masked figures stood in the room, supposed to be Moonstone’s, rolling out their judgements of others. Dominic hadn’t gone for his appraisal yet; instead, he just stood and watched. His gaze followed others who sought their evaluations, trying to determine if his marchioness was in the crowd. It was difficult to hear, with all the sniggering while the masked people finished their speeches. It was exhausting. When someone approached, Dominic didn’t turn immediately. “Have you been appraised?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the judges. “Or did you come to offer an appraisal for me?”

At Lord Dominic's question, Rosalind's gaze shifted from the masked figure to him. "Not yet," she replied. Her voice was calm but had a hint of quiet amusement. "Though I suspect the room is waiting for me with some impatience."

Her moonstone pendant rested cool against her throat. The gem itself was pale and luminous beneath the candlelight. She stepped beside him, following his gaze toward the appraisers. "As for offering one for you, I would be careful. Mine would likely be far less theatrical than theirs." She paused for a moment, her expression composed with a bit of warmth showing behind her eyes. "Though perhaps more accurate. If I were to begin, I might say that you are a man who watches judgment more comfortable than he receives it." There was a small smile now on her face. "But I imagine you already knew that one."

"mind  shutting  the  doors  behind  you?"  the  night  has  dragged  onward,  and  exhaustion  clings  to  ramón's  shoulders.  but  his  eyes  remain  bright,  steady.  he  takes  a  puff  of  his  cigar,  smoke  billowing  around  him  as  he  exhales  through  his  nose.

The brunette did not step too close. She was mindful of both propriety and smoke, though she did not retreat either. "I had hoped the diamonds might be satisfied with the garden," she said, her tone even and calm. "Though I suppose it is in their nature to be persistent," She gazed over the railing for a moment. "A rather bold entertainment choice. Inviting guests to dress as jewels, then encouraging other to search for cracks. Don't you think?"

Frederic took a few steps into the ball alongside his brothers. His clothes made him stand out- red and a bit flashy. He thought he looked rather good in the ruby-colored suit. What he hadn't expected was seeing a glimpse of Mary, and she was also wearing red, and because of that. It felt like his brother had him on a tight leash. He was not going to have a good time if this kept up

He only barely managed to slip away from him while he was stuck talking to some women about their daughter being a match for him. He could finally breathe now that he was alone. His eyes weren't forward, and he had glanced behind, making sure Dominic was far enough away. He bumped right into someone. He made a noise, and he glared at the other- He actually managed to bite his tongue and not say anything rude. He’s sure his glare spoke for him. “Hello to you too,” He said as he crossed his arms. He took this as a chance to speak with someone- maybe if his brother saw, he’d leave him be....maybe he could act a little less cross...

After a moment, she finally spoke. "Hello," she returned evenly. She took note of his crossed arms and the bit of a glare he had not shaken, "Though I confess I prefer an introduction before being greeted with suspicion." Her tone was filled with dry amusement. "I hope I have not interrupted your escape. You appear to be making a rather quick one." She paused fore a moment gazing at his ruby attire. Her own moonstone ensemble felt even more like the right choice in that moment. "Perhaps not discreetly as you intended though."

Being an only child and being raised as the heir to the family had been different than other's around her. She knew it was an anomaly that came with their own struggles. An example was this season and never truly knowing the intention of most of the potential suitors she had been introduced to.

Finally, she spoke again. "And I supposed I should take some pride in being preferable to retreat. Though I am not certain whether that speaks more highly of me or poorly of the hills."

At the mention of his sisters, Rosalind's expression grew thoughtful. She understood the burden of being looked at as something to be gained. A title, a fortune, a connection, a means to another end. "It is not unreasonable to want them to be seen clearly." Her tone was even but filled with much agreement. "If that is overprotective, then I suspect the word is oftened used by those who dislike being questioned."

Gazing back at the water, there was sense of calm for a moment before she turned her gaze back to him. "There is a difference between guarding someone's future and deciding it for them. I imagine your sisters are fortunate to have your devotion," she continued. "But perhaps love requires trusting that they may recognize happiness when it comes."

"No," she said quietly. "I do not think strength means we must endure everything placed before us in the least." She gazed off for a moment. All around them titles, fortunes and ambitions moved about; all dancing to their own beat. "Though I do think it teaches us to recognize that others expect us to endure quietly." There was no bitterness behind her words, just observation.

"At times, I wonder whether people see beyond such things because they wish to or because they have no choice but to look closer." The brunette paused a moment. "Titles are convenient. Wealth is convenient. Land, influence, family name can ll be understood without ever troubling oneself with the person carrying it." Her expression was polite, but there was a bit of darkness behind her eyes. "I have little desire to be understood only in convenient terms."

As Rosalind regained herself, she thought about her uncle and the games that he seemed to enjoy playing. It was amazing what happened behind closed doors. She truly knew how rare it was for outsiders to truly understand anyone outside of themselves. With a faint smile, the brunette fell amused by Sophia's question. "A handsome tavern-owner?" she repeated. "How daring of you to image my rebellion would be so picturesque. Although, I must confess I have not made the acquaintance of one compelling enough to test that theory."

Returning her gaze to Sophia, she pursed her lips for a moment. "As for commoners, I am less shocked than other seem to be. Birth may open doors, but it does not guarantee wisdom or grace or character once one enters." She let a moment pass. "I think we would be silly to underestimate everyone."

Her answer was intriguing, he thought maybe she was not saying who they were on purpose and had to admire it. It was the first thing people saw when they saw him and more often than not, it was their reasoning for approaching him. So he played into it and kept his own family's name away from the conversion too. That was easy to do. “That happens to everyone here and in those rooms you’ll have been discussed by people you don’t even know or will never meet.” Not something that bothered him too much. He preferred the infamous route. “Then I promise that you’ll never hear me being humble,” he chuckles with his hand on his heart to seal the promise. “I prefer infamy so use me for however you want, nothing will damage me. I promise you.” The words linger for a moment before he leans back. “There’s a ball coming up, are you attending?”

As she paused, she found it refreshing that the man didn't seem to know much about her or at least he did well pretending he didn't. Most seemed to know her simply from what they could potentially gain. "I am aware but I find the thought strange that you are made familiar to people who remain strangers to you." Her toned remained even, though the concept was more tiring than it was flattering. "How reassuring, I should hate to think I had encouraged false modesty." Rosalind tone was that of dry amusement. "Careful," she warned as she studied him for a moment. "Offering oneself for use can become a dangerous habit."

At the mention of the ball, Rosalind nodded her head slightly. "The Barnetts' ball?" she asked, though she already knew. "Yes, I am expected to attend." Her gaze flickered over him with quiet curiosity. "And you? Or is a gemstone ball too structured a performance for someone who prefers his infamy unrehearsed?"

At the mention of her uncle, his expression shifted into immediate sympathy. "Mm. Uncles are dangerous creatures. They appear suddenly, ruin evenings, and leave everyone spiritually exhausted." He leaned slightly closer then, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I avoid most of mine on principle." Her smile - small as it was - seemed to delight him more than it ought. Edgar grinned back at it instinctively. "And instead," he said, spreading his arms toward the fountain, the emptying square, and his ruined boot, "you've found yourself here. In the middle of Covent Garden. Conversing with a damp O'Connor who has publicly lost a duel against architecture." His grin widened. "I do hope you appreciate how difficult it is to create this level of entertainment accidentally."

At his assessment of uncles, something shifted in her expression. It wasn't quite agreement or discomfort, but a quiet acknowledgement of the truth that he had touch. "Dangerous creatures is one way of putting it." Her gaze flickered past him and toward the streets beyond the square. "I have found that they are particularly skilled at making their absence feel as deliberate as their presence." She picked her words carefully, though they were spoken with just a hint of a coldness.

When Edgar spread his arms however, her attention returned fully to him. Her expression softened yet again. "I do appreciate difficulty when it is achieved with such commitment. Though I am not entirely convinced this was accidental." Her tone was playful as she gazed at him. "However, I must admit, it has been a far more entertaining evening than the one I thought I would be enduring."

"Practicality is what gets us by.” He joked, feeling some achievement in making her smile. Lady Whistledown could write whatever she wanted; Dominic didn’t care. If he had his way, she’d soon be irrelevant. The whole of England still looked to that rag without any inkling of sense, but there were bigger things. “Have you chosen your gemstone yet?” He asks as they walked through the park. Dominic knew that even this moment would be gossiped about. His mother would be begging for details. What did they talk about? Did they make plans to call on one another? He had an answer for it all. 

With her gaze shifting back towards Dominic, the composed herself a again as she took note of the world around them. "Practically may get us by, but I hate to think it is all that does." At the mention of her gemstone, brought a change to her expression. Her expression softened as she touched her neck for where her necklace would lay on the night of the ball. "Moonstone," she said at last. "It is not the more obvious choice or the most admired, but I prefer things that do not reveal themselves entirely at first glance." There was a deep honesty in her voice that she revealed in for a moment. "As you" Have you chosen yours yet? Or has your mother prepared a list for that as well?"

Genevieve smiled at her. “I look forward to it, Miss Rosalind. My name is Genevieve.” Again, she didn’t bother giving her title just yet. Why ruin a potential friendship with something as silly as titles and the like? And if she already knew and still treated her as any other person in Mayfair, well…that was even better.

“Moonstone,” she repeated, smiling at the explanation. Rosalind was mysterious, curious. But she was strong and admirable, nonetheless. There was nothing delicate about her, which Genevieve sought in a friend. “Has your dress been finished? What is it like?”

Now, this was all she wanted to talk about.

At the given name, Rosalind inclined her head with quiet grace. She wanted the princess to be comfortable and sometimes formalities took that away. Had this entire interaction began differently, maybe her response would have changed. But now, she was glad things played out the way it did. "Genevieve, then I shall look forward to it."

When asked about her dress, the woman's expression softened. "It has been finished." She smiled ever so slightly at the thought. "It is pale silver-blue, though in certain light it appears almost white. There is silver embroidery along the bodice and skirt, but it's not overwhelming. I wanted something that would catch the candlelight only when I moved." She mused on about her dress. "I fear I may have made it sound far more dramatic than it is. The main focus is my moonstone necklace. It a silver setting with a teardrop stone, but is subtle at first glance. My mother always believed elegance should never need to announce itself. I suppose I carried that with me when choosing it." Rosalind's gaze returned to Ginnie, more composed. "What about yourself?"