#engsey

In this AU, Alfred is Arthur's best friend because they both exist in a grey zone as far as society is concerned. Arthur less so, but he is generally viewed as an unpleasant, miserable bastard. Alfred, on the other hand, is a total libertine who sleeps with men and married women and they're only friends because Arthur could not give fewer fucks about stuff like that. Things. He has seen them. And Alfred is nowhere near the worst.

Angelique spots Mr Jones standing off to the side of the ball. His height makes the task much simpler and she notices that he looks very striking without his spectacles, which he always wears when he comes to visit with Arthur. He cuts a dashing figure in his impeccable blue coat, but his expression is blank.

She sidles over to him and smiles up at him. "Mr Jones, you look as bored as I feel. Will you not ask me to dance?"

She has only danced twice that night so far, each time with a different young man, both potential suitors. They were both cordial and sweet and Ana probably should have made more of an effort to entertain them, but she couldn't muster it. She wants to be back at home with Arthur. In his arms. No one else's.

Alfred peers down at her, surprised. "And good evening, Miss Ana," he smiles. "It's better for you not to be seen dancing with me, I'm afraid. Otherwise I happily would. You look very lovely this evening. Did Arthur choose that gown for you?"

Ana glances briefly down at her dress, almost cream colored but for the faintest tone of light green. "Yes, he did." He had also insisted she adorn her hair with tiny white silk flowers.

Alfred nods approvingly. "He has surprisingly good taste when he puts any effort into it," he muses. "Did he bother to come with you or did he send his manservant?"

Ana sighs. "He's here. He's sitting somewhere resting his leg." Neither of them wants to be here. So why are they here? "Mr Jones, please dance with me, this ball is dreadfully dull. If Mr Kirkland doesn't care about your reputation, then I certainly don't," she says bluntly.

Alfred's eyes widen at her frankness and he laughs. "You two are such a pair," he chuckles. "I'm afraid that if any potential suitors or their family members see you, they will care. I couldn't stand the thought of someone thinking poorly of you."

Ana frowns. "It's times like this, I wish I could go back to Seychelles. There aren't nearly so many rules," she pouts.

Alfred smiles and gently brushes a strand of hair off of her face and behind her ear. "Go ask Arthur to dance with you," he says brightly.

Ana almost rolls her eyes before remembering that she isn't supposed to do that per the strict instruction of her etiquette tutor. "I have tried it before, he always says no. He says his leg makes him a terrible partner."

Alfred shakes his head. "Bastard. His leg is not nearly as bad as he says it is... and if it is, it's all in his stubborn head. Go ask him. Tell him that if he doesn't dance with you, I will."

"But you just said that you wouldn't."

"And I won't, but Arthur doesn't know that. Just trust me."

Ana is skeptical, but she knows that Mr Jones and Mr Kirkland have been friends for many years, so she decides it is worth it to try.

Arthur sits in an armchair, scowling at nothing, while holding a half-empty glass of brandy. His cane his hooked on the left arm of the chair. His coat is perfectly neat, but his style of dress overall is not nearly as stylish as Alfred's, nor as fine as those of the suitors, but to Ana, he is the handsomest man there. His face instantly brightens when he sees Ana. "Angelique, there you are. How are you getting on?"

"They bored me," she answers, knowing he's refering to the suitors. "This ball is especially dull. Won't you dance with me please?"

"I would, dear girl, but my leg is in a terrible state tonight."

She frowns. "Then you won't mind if I dance with Mr Jones? He said he would dance with me."

Arthur turns an odd shade of pink, sputters for a moment, and places his brandy glass on table next to the chair. "Like hell," he declares. "I'll not let you be seen dancing with him and ruin your reputation. Come. You are that keen on dancing? I will dance with you." He stands up and grips Ana's hand firmly; it is unlike the suitors who were gratingly gentle. She can’t possibly fault them for it, it’s the customary way of leading a lady, but Ana much prefers Mr Kirkland’s strong grasp. He leads her to the ballroom floor, having left his cane behind and striding with no limp.

Ana makes note of this, but is more excited that Arthur has agreed to dance with her. She will have to solicit Mr Jones for more advice about her inscrutable guardian later. Arthur leads her through the dance, he's average as a dance partner at best, though it seems to have more to do with being out of practice than his leg. Ana doesn't mind. He has her close--as close as is socially acceptable anyway--and she can smell his woodsy cologne. She can feel his rough, calloused hand even through her cotton glove. He’s so very warm and his cheeks are flushed though Ana attributes this to the brandy more than anything.

"You look very pretty," he says. "And you are a much better dancer than I am."

She smiles up at him. "You're very good, just out of practice."

"Hm. That I am, certainly."

They dance about three dances before exiting the dance floor, only to be met by Alfred. He's grinning cheekily and holding out Arthur's cane. "Missing something, old friend?"

Arthur scowls, but Ana knows that this is the kind he doesn't mean. Living with him and observing him, she can see the playfulness in it, however slight and she now certainly trusts that Mr Jones can see it as well. He snatches the cane from Alfred. "Thank you, old friend."

As they move to a quieter spot, Ana notices that Arthur doesn't immediately resume use of his cane. Yet she has seen his leg cause him genuine agony before. Curious. There are still so many things about Mr Kirkland which are a mystery.