@cowpers: “men can often cause much more trouble than they are worth.”
one. two. three. it is all hyacinth can bare to focus on, the rise of her chest … a beat … the deflating of her lungs. is it too early to feign sick and leave for home? a glance toward her laughing mother answers this chain of thought for her. bulbs flicker and come to life overhead, something which hyacinth chalks up to be something of a bizarre aesthetic spectacle. gas lamps, hardly a new invention by the time of her first season on the marriage mart, but for such a warm glow to cast an incandescent golden glow over the stifling ballroom … apparently a spectacle indeed, if the delighted (read: drunken) whoops of her fellow ton are anything to go off of. there are three direct routes of escape, should she be able to squeeze through the throng of partying young misses and mamas. blue eyes hone in on the door to a balcony, that of which is conveniently located beside a refreshment stand. perfect. fresh air, and a douse of room temperature water should right her. she’s only been to a handful of parties this social season, having made her debut a month beforehand, but she already finds herself a master of practised social etiquette. this is something handy, as it’s second nature now to bow her head and smile at any debutantes she glides past, nary a single troubling thought evident on her face.
the route to the refreshment stand took longer than what was expected, if her tired cheeks and sore neck are anything for her to judge. pale hands grasp a refreshingly cool glass, and hyacinth finds herself grateful for small mercies tonight, such as attentive staff. it is only when she’s sure that enough attention is being afforded to the outrageous newlyweds who take the floor, seemingly unashamed of their hasty marriage only the weekend before, that she allows her painted lips to tug downward, the only hint as to any sourness about her this evening. a saccharine gaze follows the figures of the lord isaac fitzroy and his newest catch, miss mary beresford.
“men can often cause much more trouble than they are worth,” a voice from the right. knowing the happenings of the ton, including keeping notice of anyone in said ton, is something which hyacinth bridgerton prides herself very much on, thank you very much … which is precisely why her head whips toward the direction of the incoming voice. cressida cowper.
her spare hand goes to smooth her dress, a nervous habit undoubtedly picked up from one of her more anxiously inclined sisters. “miss cowper, i did not expect to see you this evening. it has been … some time.” there is no malice in her voice, merely surprised curiosity.
