Dominic didn’t want to be here. He’d made his views on the Barnetts perfectly clear, but still his mother insisted. She’d hovered by her son since they first arrived, pointing out ladies he should be speaking to. Dominic had danced with two suitable women, enduring the simpering smiles of their mothers. He was careful not to dance more than once with anyone, but as soon as he finished his dance, his mother ushered him towards the American congregation. Dominic crossed the room with calm precision. “Mx Lytton", Dominic greeted, bowing his head just enough. “I believe we have not yet been introduced, properly. I’m Dominic O’Connor, Lord of Downshire.” Dominic could see the other debutants edging closer. He’d dance with a few more of them, but he wasn’t too thrilled about it.

The music began to change. Instead of the slow, controlled strings, it was beginning to sound more jovial. Dominic paused, looking back at his mother. She was eager for him to dance, and an American heiress was as good as anything. “It sounds as if this next dance will be at a better pace,” he said with a smile. “Would you permit me this dance?” Dominic had others waiting on a dance. There weren't many young, marriage-minded lords in London, so he knew he’d be desired at least for a dance. 

|| LOCATION || The Barnett Gemstone Ball

Genevieve was set on watching the most interesting people in the room. Those who wore elaborate hats and gem-shaped gowns but unfamiliar faces. People who played the part of noble and gentry for a night, but clearly did not fit the mold whether it was bad form or lacking the training.

However, the princess's eyes spotted a figure in the crowd. Graceful and statuesque with an intriguing familiarity about them. Without thinking, she began to approach. "Good evening," she greeted politely enough. "You...were last season's diamond, yes? I recognize the way you walk. It was quite distinct then, and it is still distinct now."

It was a peculiar way to recognize someone, but that was what she saw. She did not remember their face, mostly their name. Something lithe and beautifully simplistic. But she couldn't place it yet, despite being on the tip of her tongue.

|| LOCATION || La Mesure