bxtterwaters

[bxtterwaters]

"Good reason?" He scoffed, keeping his eyes focused on his task of binding his hand in a bandage. "Bloody hell, woman, what do you want?" He had intended the words to sound much sharper than they had actually come out, more resigned than annoyed. Finally, he tore his gaze from his injured had to look up at her, a scowl settling on his face. "It was not some back alley brawl, and I won anyway. I'm sure you would be much more disappointed had I lost-" His words stalled for a moment when she touched his face, however fleeting it might have been. "...Well," he cleared his throat, regaining his composure, "we wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your prospects, would we? I'm sure you can manage without me for a few days. Far be it from me to prevent you in succeeding in your endeavours."

"Yes, busy with me," Aylin states, and with a flick of her brow, the parlour door is closed behind her. "And with good reason."

Surprise doesn't touch her features, but her eyes drink him all the same. It's a sight that Aylin has always anticipated from what she knows of his quick wit and sharp tongue, but it's different to see it in front of her. What interests her is what sort of foolishness caused it this time.

“Tsk. If you're going to stoop to some back alley brawl, Lysander, the least you could do is win prettier," She says, crossing over to him uninvited and goes as far as brushing a gloved finger over skin blushing to bruise. "I can hardly parade you in front of any viscount like this. What did you do to earn that?”

[bxtterwaters]

Lysander had intended to stretch his legs, having been cooped up in his office all day for various reasons, so he stepped outside for the moment. Fresh air would do him some good, he decided, about at his wits end with the papers he had been reading. He hadn't expected nor prepared for conversation, and his shoe sole scuffed slightly against the floor in his abrupt pause. Turning, he looked for the source of the voice, a polite smile settling on his lips. "Ah. Miss Kara, good afternoon." He greeted, gentlemanly yet charming as ever in his approach. "Regretfully, ma'am, I would have to agree with you. I remain tight lipped, as always." Never mind that he would, in fact, spill secrets to the highest bidder if he felt so inclined.

with: @bxtterwaters where: outside gentleman jack's when: late afternoon

Ayla was, admittedly, fascinated by Lysander. By his rapid rise to prominence - the way he had seemingly cemented himself as a central pillar of the Ton out of nowhere. At least it seemed that way to her, being someone who only paid attention to the rest of the social scene when there was something to be gained.

Or, as it was in this case: when she was bored. She had not intended to strike up a conversation, had not intended to do anything but buy a spool of ribbon for a dress. But he's there, presumably having come out of his establishment, and Ayla cannot help herself.

"I'm assuming you won't be bribed into telling me what kind of secrets your patrons have let slip this week?"

[bxtterwaters]

location: Lysander's home, London status: closed (@brassdivinity )

Lysander was busy, too busy for visitors. That was what he had told the housekeeper when he retreated to the parlour after returning from an outing, brushing off her words of concern. Yes, perhaps he had gotten into a small spot of bother, and perhaps it had ended with split knuckles and a forming bruise on his cheek - irritating, as he couldn't easily hide such an injury. However, he should have known that one person would actively ignore such instructions, no matter what his housekeeper would say. He groaned in partial vexation, partial pain as someone walked in on his attempt to clean his bloody knuckles on his right hand. "I do believe I said I was busy, Lady Kara." He didn't need to look to know it was her.

[bxtterwaters]

Lysander stood back with his arms crossed, leaning against the opposite wall with an expression of extreme disdain. After having found out about Thayer's... indiscretions, he was less than thrilled about it, naturally - especially as one of his paintings had been wrecked in the process. This was apparently Thayer's way of apologising and making up for it, and while Lysander was far from foolish enough to reject the very expensive painting (that he would be bragging about), Sir Claremont was not out of the woods. "Spare me the details of your intimate life, I have heard quite enough of it to last me a lifetime." He grumbled, wrinkling his nose slightly before pushing off the wall to stand straight. "I'm sure it hasn't slipped your mind, sir, that you are in fact banned from this establishment? I have turned a blind eye to you sneaking in with your friends, but if this is going to be a regular occurrence... I might have to start paying closer attention."

open to: @bxtterwaters for mister lysander digby location: gentleman jack's, london, england.

Cytherea Gallery would surely have his head for giving this piece to a gentleman's club. And if they knew just where he was hanging it, and what activities went on in this hall that he'd been making up for? They would surely drag him through the streets with every name attached to the gallery rolling in their graves. But a deal was a deal. The painting was part of the Claremonts' private collection, scattered across the countryside and never claimed by the new crown. This one in particular was large enough to be hung lower on the wall to hide a certain indentation. Caused by Thayer's knee a few weeks before. "If anyone is going to commit debauchery in here, they may as well do it under a Claremont piece," He says, standing back to take a look at it. "It's a hanging a little lower than tradition— but then again, so am I."

[bxtterwaters]

Lysander watched him from the armchair in his office, indifferent as William entered, and even more so as he spoke. He didn't care much for the excuses or the simpering, nor whatever pleas for mercy William thought would appeal to his generous side - a side that was shrinking further by the second. He let young William talk first, let him say whatever he thought might gain him points or non-existent sympathy, as he leaned back in the chair. Finally, when the groomsman shut up, Lysander reacted. "...Did you come straight here from the stables, or are you simply looking to provoke me further, William?" he asked as his nose scrunched slightly and his lip curled in disdain, wielding the full given name like a sharp blade. "I thought we had discussed this, but apparently you'd prefer to smell of a horse's back end that be somewhat respectable. I'm unsure as to how we're supposed to be on this... equal footing nonsense when you insult me by turning up like this." He gestured with his hand at the state of Will's attire, rolling his eyes in obvious disgust. "...No matter. We have more important things to discuss, and quickly. I don't want the smell lingering." He moved to stand, leisurely wandering closer to the younger man as if he had all the time in the world and William didn't look as skittish as the horses he tended to. "We had a deal, did we not? If you cannot uphold your end of the bargain... why should I? Hm?" He reached out to brush a fictional piece of hay off Will's clothes, before clapping his hand down onto his shoulder and gripping it tightly. "I told you. I will not be made a fool of." Lysander reminded him of his exact words, of their bargain struck in the very stable he thought William belonged in.

closed starter for @bxtterwaters at Gentleman Jack's

The streets of London were still jubilant from the events of the Baron’s Cup, and while William was normally amongst them, he was required elsewhere this evening. Gentleman Jack’s had become a frequent place William had attended, but those within its walls didn’t know him as a groom. With his fine clothes of exceptional quality, he fitted in amongst them but at a price. He was amongst the crowd, ready to celebrate when a coachman had summoned him, telling him that Lysander requires a word and he was not a man to be kept waiting. William knew that Lysander didn’t send for people unless there was a reason, and lately, William knew that he had not kept to his end of the bargain, and a man like Lysander Digby was not one to let debts fester.

Inside, Gentleman Jack’s was warm and suffocating, though William attributed that to his own nerves and not the pipe smoke that filled the room. Normally, he would be dressed in the clothes Lysander had paid for to help keep up the pretence, but now he was in his normal garb, filled with repairs he had made himself and smelling of horse and hay. William stood awkwardly just beyond the vestibule, trying to make himself inconspicuous but feeling as if he was failing on all fronts. For the first time since his initial visit, William felt grubby and small amongst the finery and decoration. When the double doors to the inner room swung open, William straightened, heart thudding. He was ushered into Lysander’s office, and he stood, waiting for an opening to talk. “I know why you’ve summoned me.” William spoke with the little confidence that he could muster. “But I don’t know what more you want from me; I have nothing to give.” Fear didn’t fill William’s heart yet; it was more the tension and apprehension of someone who knew the price of falling short and failing to come up with a suitable solution.

[bxtterwaters]

"That was before I became aware of your conduct towards dear Juliet. Tell me, sir, do you make a habit of going around assaulting pregnant women, or just those you deem troublesome?" He did not care a single iota that Juliet had told him that she and her step brother were on better terms now. Lysander was not likely to forget exactly what Tobias had done, whether it was provoked or not. "It certainly makes me wish I was much less considerate with my own conduct when we first met." The brandishing of the ring did absolutely nothing to impress him. Lysander raised an eyebrow as he spared it a bored glance. "Is that all? Here I thought the Thorpe's were among the elite, is it not rather... small? Simple? I certainly would not be brandishing it so boldly - then again, I would not own such a piece in the first place." He took a sip from his drink, blue eyes cold and hard as the glass in hand. "...Though I suppose, if you're so desperate for my help, I won't pass it up. I shall have to restrain myself from spitting in the barrels." The mention of the matches raised his hackles higher, and his back straightened ever so slightly in reflex. "...Perhaps your new husband did all of Mayfair a favour by removing you from the streets. I only hope for your sake that he does not find out the rats down by the port are better company than you."

Tobias had been to Gentleman Jack’s a few times since the last he saw Lysander and noticed a warmer welcome when the owner wasn’t around. The last time they’d spoken, it had been quite tense between them and not in a way they could enjoy. He knew he’d been insufferable since coming back from Scotland, his walk more of a stride and a grin that couldn’t be wiped from his face.

“Enmity is such a strong word given how we first started, don’t you think? I don’t remember feeling that when I was in your back room.” Flirting was his default, and he was much more emboldened with the ring on his finger, bragging almost in some way even if the hatred from Lysander was palpable. His smile widens with a tilt of his head, inching closer to the owner. “Yes, a business opportunity.” He raises his hand to just above his chest, gives his figners a slow wiggle so the light catches on the gold band and the blue stone set in across the middle. “I’m a married man now and looking to throw a lavish celebration and my partner wants no expense spared from the community. If you’re feelings towards me are strong enough to pass up, I’ll look elsewhere. Oh,” he says with a tut that he can’t help being smug, “if you’re thinking its about the Queen’s match…well…” he shrugs, choosing to be coy just to be a wind up.

[bxtterwaters]

Lysander made it a habit to watch every newcomer on their first visit, especially when they come asking for membership. Whether or not this was his true first visit, Lysander couldn't confirm yet, as he could've slipped in upon the vouch of a friend. Still, Lysander didn't recognise him, so he watched, and something about the man's movements were simply far too... familiar. Like looking in a mirror. Strange. "Indeed. I reviewed your application, and among the opinion of others, it was accepted." He agreed when the matter of membership payment was brought up, and naturally, his eyebrow twitched up in intrigue through the implied question posed. "...You would be correct. The more generous you are, the more generous I am. Especially given your... newfound position." After all, Peter's little inquiry into his club had turned up a single fact that formed Lysander's opinion in an instant - his marriage to one Tobias Thorpe. A fact that almost had him deny the application altogether, but as they say - keep your friend close and your enemies under your thumb. Or something to that effect.

. closed starter. @bxtterwaters .

EXCLUSIVITY MEANT SECURITY AND NOW ACCESS WAS GRANTED THROUGH MARRIAGE TO A MAN OF A FUTURE TITLE THAT HAD ALREADY PROVED USEFUL TO EVERYTHING HE NEEDED. Plans were in place with much more ease than without and a quiet place with a membership gave a setting desired for all that was needed to be done. In a quiet corner work was conducted under the guise of gambling. A perfect way to willingly lose money in place of payment for deeds done or worked out. A loss could not be traced when it was played at a game making it the perfect way to settle payments.

“I need to settle up my membership,” Piet remarks to the owner of the establishment with a coarse voice that masks the true accent with the new one his tongue is trained to conceal. “It is my understanding that the application is complete and approved but only the matter of payment. I hear the more donated, the more access and discretion is given in return.”

[bxtterwaters]

Lysander wasn't one to ban people from his club - it was bad for business and people asked too many questions that he could scarcely be bothered to answer. In fact, only one person had been banned by himself, and yet somehow he kept sneaking in anyway. Maybe one day, Lysander would find it less amusing and enforce it. However, if there was one person he was most tempted to ban, it was Tobias Thorpe's smug, irksome face. The mention of the Queen's matchmaking only made him bristle further. "A business opportunity? From you?" Lysander drawled, sipping his own drink as he stared Tobias down like he was trying to puzzle pieces together. "Interesting way to approach it, considering I'm quite sure you know of my... enmity towards you." A tilt of his head did nothing to hide the calculating gleam in his gaze, more apparent than ever. "I suppose it depends - how much are my efforts worth to you, Mister Thorpe?"

CLOSED STARTER | @bxtterwaters LOCATION: GENTLEMAN JACK'S

Everything had been a whirlwind in the last few months but none moreso than the last few days. He’d left London on a whim, sneaking away in the middle of the night and returned a man bound to another. Some games had been played in his time at Gentleman Jack’s but he was there to see Lysander on business. “Last I saw you was a while ago back at the gallery, I think. How strange that so much has happened since then. The Queen and her matchmaking and now…well, I have a business opportunity.” He’s coy on purpose but not entirely sure why. “There’s a celebration being planned and I was hoping to invite you as a guest and using your establishments ale for such an occasion. It’s a wedding celebration event, would you be interested in supplying your fine ale for it?”

[bxtterwaters]

"Is that all you think I care about?" He asked, though where he would usually sound mocking or teasing, he only sounded immensely grumpy. "Perhaps we will get along and the Queen was correct in her matchings. Then what?" Even so, he knew as much as he may (or may not) get along with Miss Lockridge, it would never be a perfect match - not when he was sure he had already found it. He didn't bother answering her question either - his mood had considerably soured with the words written on paper in front of him. Instinctually, when her hand reached for the page, he pulled back out of range, keeping the paper held firmly in his hand and creasing it slightly in his tight grip. "Well, that depends, dear Aylin, on whether you think the risks of touching Tobias Thorpe are worth whatever you think you may get out of the match. Though I cannot foresee anything other than an ailment that will make you itch in the most unpleasant places."

Aylin cannot help the smirk that curls at the corner of her mouth, her foot brushing against him as she crossed her legs to lean back against her seat. He should miss her, that is, if she were ever to find her place away from him. They both knew this arrangement would come to a close, and if they were lucky, prior to the end of the season. Except the more days that passed, Aylin grew more agitated by it all.

"Was she not the Sinclair's ward?" Aylin asked, defenses peaked more than interest. What could a ward to some formerly exiled family provide to him, what interest could she hold? It was ugly little shade of green Aylin found herself turning, and she rolled it off quickly with a shrug. "It does not matter. She is from a most agreeable fortune, is she not? I'm sure you have plans to spend it to your liking already. Pray tell, what would Lysander Digby do as the richest commoner in Mayfair?"

She waits as he finds her name, and the silence that befalls him brings Aylin to snap with her curiosities, "Who is it?" Reaching forward, she tries to take it from his hand without causing a scene. "Is our work here already done by the hand of the queen?"

[bxtterwaters]

Lysander stalled in his steps as he heard a familiar voice, turning to face the warm presence of Juliet's cousin. That rare genuine smile of his settled easily on his lips as he greeted her. "Ah, Miss Bennett. It would be my pleasure." He agreed all too simply, but then again, he had a soft spot for anyone Juliet spoke highly of. Besides, he had met Beatrice on a few short occasions, and she always seemed perfectly pleasant. Lysander gestured for her to stroll beside him, making sure to position himself on the side of the pathway closest to the roads. "What can I do for you? I assume you've not sought me out simply for my charming smile and handsome features?" he joked, looking down at her as they walked.

who: beatrice & lysander ( @bxtterwaters )where: the streets of mayfair

In a few short weeks, it felt like Beatrices life had totally fallen apart. The Queens matchmaking was underway, her relationship with Callum had completely fallen apart and, the worst of all, Juliet had been cast out from the family. She admired her cousin for taking such a big swing. She had stood up for her love and Beatrice thought that it was an absolutely incredibly thing for her to do - but it didn't mean that she missed her any less.

To make matters worse, it seemed like everyone in town had something or other to say about Juliet. Beatrice had tried to keep her mouth shut. She had tried to make sure that she listened to Juliet. Her cousin didn't want her to do something which would taint her reputation. But the longer that it went on, the harder she found it. She wanted to defend her cousin. She wanted to tell them that they were wrong for thinking the way that they did. But she kept her mouth shut and her head held high. She hoped that, that would be what Juliet wanted from her.

Amongst all of the whispering mamas, Beatrice saw Lysander. If there was one person that she knew wouldn't be judging her cousin through all of this, it was him. She hurried to catch up to him. "Excuse me?" She called out to the other, "Could I walk with you a little Mister Digby?" Beatrice questioned. She had no idea if it would help or hinder the whispers but she didn't particularly care. She would feel better if she had a friendly face by her side.

[bxtterwaters]

"I wouldn't wish to stay a minute longer, ma'am, lest I contract a disease." He spat his final remark, every bit as scathing as before, leading Juliet out of the shop with his head held high and his hand resting over the tight grip she had on his sleeve. Lysander hadn't even considered the idea of being embarrassed - it was the last emotion he could ever feel for Juliet. No, he was on the brink of vengeful, anger coursing through his veins and almost giving him a headache from the restraint he had to show to keep himself in check. The moment, however, they were in an alleyway and hidden mostly from the street view, he refocused on his friend. Her body language made his stomach sink, and her words weighed it down even further. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?" He scowled, abhorred by the very idea of ever abandoning her. "You have nothing to apologise for, little lady, don't you dare stand in front of me now and take the blame for that- that gaggle of claptraps." Despite his obvious fury and harsh words, his hands were gentle as he reached for her, grasping her shoulder and coaxing her to turn and face him. Once he had her at least standing nearby, his hands moved up to cup both her cheeks, his thumbs naturally moving to swipe away her tears much like he had when she was a young girl in trouble with her mother. "You listen to me, Juliet Bennett," the wrong name, yes, but she would always be that little girl in his eyes, and his tone mirrored the same one he used when he was stern with her then, "you have done nothing wrong. They are the ones at fault here. What sin have you committed, truly?" Tenderly, he tilted her head back with his hands to ensure she was listening, holding her gaze with his own. "If they are truly going to forsake you for falling in love, then they are miserable, bored old women with nothing better to do than judge others to avoid their own misdeeds being judged. You are far beyond them, in every way, and they are jealous of your beauty and your happiness." In an attempt to cheer he up even a little bit, he managed a small smile. "I mean, really, little lady, who are you going to believe? Me or them?"

Juliet had known what rejection and cruelty had felt like her entire life - just behind closed doors. Inpublic, she was ever the gregarious, lovely, charming girl, a wit as sharp as ever - and yet she suffered behind closed doors, battled with her mother's own cruelty and kept it quiet. Her mother was a most respected, caring mother and Lady - and Juliet had been nothing more than a spoiled little girl in everyone else's eyes - and she had been okay with that. She had wanted to protect the image all had of her mother - Juliet was certain that if she quite ignored it all - it could go away. The feeling of utter searing, horrifying rejection time and time again.

But it hadn't - and now here it stood, spread to every limb, every surface of her, until it festered and made a cold, stabbing home inside her soul. The rejection, the pain. It was now in the form of these women, the noble women that stared at her the way her own mother did and perhaps that was why it had hurt so badly. Tears freely fell down pink, embarrassed cheeks as she looked upon the women now, their fill of humiliating the young unwed whore of Mayfair a sport it seemed, when all she dearly wanted was a dream to liven her spirits. Unfrozen, finally, she had turned to Lysander, unable to dearly meet his eyeline, as she reached for his arm.

"Mister Digby - n-no, no - " She whispered to him, but he spoke out anyhow, a demolishing tone of voice and rant that she could see had the other women gasping and clutching their very pearls. How - How dare you! How dare you bring this whore into my fabric shop and then you dare insult me! Leave at once! Now! Both of you! Juliet kept the grip on Lysander as they had left the shop, and she had scarcely realized that she had been trembling. Tears still leaked from her eyes, her cheeks still red, flushed as she could not look at her dear friend in the eye. She had surely embarrassed him, surely so.

"I - I - I scarcely kn-know what to say. I - I am so sorry, Mister Digby. I - " Still, Juliet could not meet his eyes as she found herself in an hidden alley walking, her body turned away from her dear friend. In that moment, Juliet wished for Oliver, for he was her safety, her everything, but Lysander was such a familiarity, such family - but she felt utterly and completely tarnished, humiliated.

"I am so sorry, I am so sorry," She cried, shaking her head, her back turned to him. "You - You can leave me if you wish, Mister Digby. I - I do not wish for you to be enthralled in all of this. I - I do not know what to say, only that I am sorry." She whimpered, face still unable to meet his, to look at him, to bear the shame she felt radiating off of her.

[bxtterwaters]

"I could never toss you aside, my dear." He admitted perhaps a little too honestly, but it seemed she had that effect. "It is you who will have to leave me for us to truly part ways. Else, I do believe you are quite stuck with me... Though it is rather presumptuous of you to believe I would not miss you and your scheming little ways." She was right, of course - he didn't have many friends, not that he really wanted them. He had Juliet, yes, but other than that, who did he have that truly cared about him? That he could safely call a friend and not face rejection? No one came to mind, and as such, he ignored the remark, unwilling to admit her accuracy. Instead, he unfolded the letter fully and began to scan it. His name first, connected to a name he was familiar with at least. "Hm... Miss Cassandra Lockridge. Interesting, the ward of a friend of mine." Though once again, the term friend was used loosely for Thayer Claremont. "And you, darling..." Once again, he began to scan the page, finding her name above his- Shit. Oh, he did not like that at all and his eyes narrowed slightly at the paper in his hand. Of all people, she was matched with the man in Mayfair that could not only rival his own rakish ways but far surpass them? Something hot and sharp burned in his stomach that he refused to give a name.

What had Aylin expected of him? She knew exactly what she wanted, something for more forward than him dragging his finger across her plate and daring her gaze to fall on his mouth. They played a game and she was growing tired of not getting a prize.

Or at least that's what Aylin convinced herself the issue was. If it was tangible, she could get it.

Before she can even protest, the letter is in his hand. This is what she gets for daydreaming, for taking a tally and building a score with him so near. The man across from her keeps her not only on her toes, but on edge. With a jaw cut with annoyance, it takes her a moment to not let him know how much this play has given him control.

"Open it then," She instructs him, leaning back in her seat. "Perhaps it's some Viscount and I won't need you at all, Lysander. Would you toss me aside so easily then? We both know you don't have many friends unless they bring you something. I'm sure we could work something out if you'll miss me."

[bxtterwaters]

"That's because you are one." Lysander replied smoothly as he crossed his arms, leaning against the frame of door behind him, watching and nit-picking through the mirror. "But this is what you wanted, and so be grateful I offered it so willingly. I'm nothing if not generous." The sarcasm came naturally as he continued to assess William, looking for faults. "...It will do, though, I suppose. You no longer smell like a stable at the end of a week, nor do you look like you slept in one." He sighed, pushing off the door jamb and standing up straight to wander closer, puling a non-existent thread off William's shoulder. "...A friendly warning, William. All anyone will be talking about is the recent pairings Her Majesty has bestowed upon us all... and the whispers of the Lady Whistledown." He was fully aware, of course, that the woman he had been matched with himself was involved with William before. He knew very little about Miss Lockridge other than what he had heard from Thayer and the Whistledown papers, so perhaps, if he was going to make a real effort, he should pick William's brains? Besides... it would certainly piss off the groomsman.

closed starter for @bxtterwaters at Gentlemen Jack's

Gentleman Jack’s was unlike William had anything experienced, heightened more so by the pressures he put on himself. If he were to make something of himself, something that lasts, it began here. Standing awkwardly before the mirror, the fine wool of the borrowed  deep green waistcoat looked splendid, but he could not forget the constant ache from his borrowed shoes, pinching at his toes. Years spent mucking out the stalls for men who were more fitted to coats like this made him feel more like an outsider than before. No matter how many times he tried to adjust the collar that was constantly chafing at his neck, William found himself longing for his simple woolen shirt. For too long he was in the mirror, adjusting and pulling things down when he saw Lysander watching him closely. “I feel like a fool,” He said, staring at Lysander through the mirror. He knew that the other men would sniff out any insecurity but all William could do was tug at the cuffs and straighten the cravat for the tenth time.

[bxtterwaters]

It seemed that Juliet was ignoring the stares and whispers the best she could, and while Lysander would’ve much preferred if she didn't have to suffer it at all, he supposed he could overlook them too if only for her sake. Thus, he allowed her to pull him along like a dog on a leash, fighting the genuine smile that always threatened to settle on his face when Juliet Thorpe was present. It always amused him when she referred to him as a childhood friend when truthfully, he was long out of his teenage years by the time she hit ten - a fact which honestly only made him all the more fond of her, and all the more protective.  “How could I not?” He nodded in agreement, following along dutifully as she fawned over one dress in particular. This was how she was supposed to look - happy, excited, all smiles and sparkling eyes. This was how he remembered her best. “It is rather beautiful, I agree - even I can see that. And beauty compliments beauty, darling Juliet, so I believe you should get it if it pleases you so.” She deserved something nice, after everything she had gone through, and indeed everything she was about to.

The sweet moment was short lived. Lysander looked to the woman who insisted Juliet shouldn’t touch, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Had he realised where this was going, he would’ve spoken up sooner, but he had wrongfully assumed no one would be stupid enough to say something so cruel to nobility, nor to deny business when it was available. But he watched as this witch all but mocked his darling friend, and in a rare moment, just as Juliet, he was stunned into silence. It was when the snooty woman addressed him directly that his temper reared. How dare this woman look down on Juliet? How dare they all smirk and laugh behind their hands, whispering like old maids with nothing better to do?  He had watched Juliet grow up as a Bennett, he had watched over her since she was a young child. A spoiled little lady with all the charm and wit needed to command a room, a young girl who knew what she wanted and that she would absolutely get it - not too unlike himself, he supposed, but from very different circumstances. She had been given everything, and he had always taken, and although to most that should turn him against them… Juliet Bennett was an exception. He was there when she lost her father, and again when she became a Thorpe. He was always there. As the youngest of his own siblings, and not particularly well liked by them, he never truly knew what it was like to feel loved and to love someone in such a way. This scrappy slip of a girl who yelled at him in the streets one day for accidentally dirtying her dress? Well, she had firmly worked her way into the position of a sister, even if not by blood. And someone had dared to upset her? Well, that just would not do.  Several stages of anger washed over him - shock, irritation, pure rage… and then a quiet calm. Shouting and lashing out would do no good, it would only tarnish his own reputation, and perhaps even harm Juliet’s further - besides, he didn't want her to see him like that. No, he needed to be calm and poignant about this. He ignored Juliet’s plea’s to leave, now focused on the much bigger picture.   “I do find it interesting, ma’am,” he spoke calmly, but his sharp gaze burned into the seamstress as he addressed her, “that you would look down upon someone for the sinful act of, what? Falling in love? When it is in fact, your husband, who gambles away any money you do make within this shop down at the docks during his work hours.” Never mind that Lysander himself took part in the very same gambling when he found himself bored, as the docks were easy pickings - a minor detail. “And, in fact, I believe he has been spotted multiple times near the Town’s brothels. So perhaps Miss Juliet is better off not giving you her coin, and in fact, you should thank her for preventing your husband from continuing his nasty habits? Perhaps it is your hands people should question the touch of - after all, we do not know where your husband has been, if you indeed touch him at all. though, if you did, he would have no need for a brothel, would he?”

All Juliet could do was merely pretend the stares, the whispers and show of it all was not there - it was all she could do. She had quite thought about fighting back, as she usually would, with her fierce, fiery nature, but what would that dearly do besides further disgrace her and then her family? Sweet Beatrice, sweet Alistair, George and Hunter - not to mention her own brother, sweet little Emily and of course - her Oliver. She held herself always together, with poise, with elegance, and she was quite known for that, but her armor had grown quite worn by now, the endless insults and whispered ridicule relentless, which was why she had stayed home, hidden, as her mother had wanted her to do. You have disgraced yourself and this family enough - you are to stay home and do not dare to venture out. Lord Thorpe had been kinder perhaps, of course he had - but at this point in time, had not spoken to him yet.

Shooting her beloved friend a playful smile, Juliet took his hand, dragging him inside the unnamed, yet favored pristine dress shop. "You will dearly forget about your horses for one day, Mister Lysander, and indulge me. How could you not? There will be horse races tomorrow and other every day, but a day with your beloved childhood friend buying a new, beautiful dress, a dress such as this?" Juliet gasped, touching the fabric with such care and adoring eyes.

"Could you not imagine such a sight with me in this dress? I've had my eye on it for so long now." She crooned, dreaming of wearing it for her beloved Oliver, the dreams of it in her head no doubt keeping her from her sad realities for a while.

A few whispers and alarm, a judgmental silence fell over the dress shop as Juliet touched the dress, entered the dress shop and one of the women seamstresses came over. Miss Thorpe. We would much oblige for you to keep your hands to yourself and not on such precious fabric. We do not know where your hands have no doubt been. Juliet had been taken aback by the words, as she looked upon the modiste with disbelief.

"I - I realize perhaps one should not touch without the intention of buying, of course, however I was here to purchase such a lovely dress." Juliet tried to smile, but the woman had haughtily smirked, reaching forward to take the dress from her. That will simply not do, Miss Thorpe. You can imagine that we only sell to the nobles of Mayfair, of the most pristine and beautiful women. You have - how do we say this now, Miss Thorpe? You have indeed dropped from that category, have you not? Therefore, we are not able to allow you to purchase the dress, or any other dress in this shop. In fact, we would like you to leave.

Juliet felt as if someone had scarcely punched her in the gut - as then judgmental stares and now giggles from other noble women filled the store. It was her humiliation - they had lived for it, wanted it, and had waited for her to touch such a dress to give it to her, to humiliate her in front of everyone, in front of Lysander as well. Hot, burning tears filled her eyes as she had, uncharacteristically, been at a loss for words. A few tears slipped from her eye as she had never, in her entire life, even dreamed of having being kicked out from a place.

Besides, Miss Thorpe, soon enough you will not even able to fit into one of our beautiful dresses, isn't that true? We would not want the ruin of some servant man's child to be shown off in one of our dresses. Another blow, another insult and Juliet had swallowed hard, breathing quite heavily at the rage, embarrassment and horror she felt. The woman had turned to Lysander, a smile on her face.

If you could take Miss Thorpe and remove her from our shop, we would most appreciate it. Thank you, sir. Juliet had begged for words to come out from her mouth, just as they always had, but she could not form any. The seamstresses walked away, and her chance was ruined, as the other women in the shop still giggled and whispered. Juliet looked to her dear friend, unable to meet his eyes in shame and embarrassment as she swallowed hard.

"Le-Let us - Let us go, shall we?"

[bxtterwaters]

Appearances were everything - his mother had drilled it into him at a young age. How you were perceived could make or break you, especially within the tumultuous environment of London Town. Now, he applied that logic to everything he did, out of habit or out of real necessity, he wasn't sure, but he was sure his mother would approve. Whether he should be proud of that or not was up to him, and he didn't have an answer. It did answer, however, why he had chosen to go all in with the courting of the person the Queen had so graciously matched him with - a Miss Cassandra Lockridge. It was ironic in so many ways. According to the biggest gossip in England, Miss Lockridge was involved with the very man he had coerced into working for him mere days ago. Poor William, though it was certainly good for Lysander, another way to show just how much control he had over the little groomsman. As well as this, though, she was the ward of a man Lysander had a shaky understanding with. Sir Thayer Claremont had been a staple within Gentleman Jack's for a long time, despite technically being barred from membership. His sneaky workaround of being invited along with his friends had impressed Lysander to the point he allowed the disgraced former prince to hang around like a ghost... And he wondered what this pairing would do to their understanding. All of that was pushed aside, though, as he was led through the halls and stepped into the doorway where Miss Lockridge awaited. A smile settled across his face, every bit as confident as he was in his comfort zone - and this was firmly out of it. Courtship wasn't something he had ever seen himself participating in, but as with everything else he ever did, he took the risk. "Good afternoon, Miss Lockridge. Forgive me for the... dramatic bouquet, but I was unsure of what flowers you preferred. So simply, I bought a selection of many."

Location: The Claremont Home, Drawing Room

Closed: Mr. Lysander Digby @bxtterwaters

As soon as the letters from the queen came, Cassandra's heart dropped. The last few weeks had been terribly confusing for the young woman and worried about what her future held for her. Somehow, Will's proposal had been exposed to the ton and Cassandra wondered if this matchmaking business was a way for the queen to gain control of court once more. Had her actions indirectly angered the queen and now she was making sure that no one stepped out of line? Even if there was Will's proposal that still needed and answer, would she be allowed to accept it if she had gotten out of the queen's good graces? Then there was Callum, who had been going through hell silently and her guilt only worsened. She had not seen either in a weeks and worried about them constantly.

However, she would not be allowed to dwell on either man when the footman stepped inside, holding the largest bouquet of flowers Cassandra had ever seen. She had been alone in the drawing room, except for Violetta who was her other chaperone. Sir Claremont had been running back and forth to the palace for business matters and she was left alone. Normally, if she had been stuck inside, she would have begged Callum to entertain her, but she was taken from the Sinclair home after she admitted to him what had happened between the pair. Now she missed her best friend.

"For Miss Cassandra Lockridge," he spoke loudly as she sat her book down, "A Mr. Lysander Digby is here to call upon you Miss." Her heart raced at the introduction before Mr. Digby stood in the opening of the door.

[bxtterwaters]

Lysander heard the hostility loud and clear - it was interesting, perhaps even amusing, that this woman seemed comfortable to so boldly question the status quo. He came to a stop in front of her, blue eyes locked on as if trying to figure out what cards she held in a mental game of Commerce. "It is not in my interest to establish such a place for women, but if it is something you desire so badly, perhaps you should start one? I have no interest in smoking out the Lady Whistledown either. She is yet to bother me so." Though granted, her ramblings had upset a great deal of people, some of which he might care about. Lysander's head titled to the side. "You ask a lot of questions and I cannot help but feel... targeted. Do you take issue with my business?"

Lysander had stepped out for a rare moment of fresh air after a particularly... riveting conversation with yet another man who bet against him and lost. Was it a valid loss? Perhaps not, but it was a loss nonetheless and Lysander was not in the business of letting things go so easily. He turned as he heard someone call out in his direction, raising an eyebrow and tucking one hand in his pocket as he wandered slowly towards the rather brave woman. "...Why is that?" He repeated the question with amusement. "Escaping judgemental wives, or perhaps simply for socialisation... a decent drink in more decent surroundings... choose your reason, ma'am, there are plenty."

[bxtterwaters]

She was bold, he would give her that, and if there was anything he enjoyed in a person, it was boldness. Confidence. He played along with her gesture, graciously taking her hand and bending ever so slightly to press his lips to the back of her hand - maintaining eye contact all the while. When he straightened up, his touch lingered for longer than appropriate. "Marlene." He tested the name on his tongue. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I'm sure I might have something palatable for you behind the bar." He dropped her hand only to gesture deeper into the building, leading her through the hallways towards where he kept the alcohol, lining the shelf on a wall. "Ladies choice." He offered, watching her with a small smirk. "Oh, not for a few hours yet... and those in the lodgings upstairs have long since vacated..."

"Good thing I am far from being a Lady." Marlene does not hesitate a second, and moves past him to enter the gentleman's club. When the door closes behind her, Marlene turns around, and holds out her hand -- to be kissed. "Marlene.", she introduces herself, "Lovely to meet you. I am assuming this is your establishment, Sir?" Her other hand gently traces a countertop, and her eyes are sparkling with amusement, "I'm curious of what you will offer me to drink. I was brought up in a village, you know? I'd like to say that I'm quite tough when it comes to handling liquor."

Widowed nobleman had sometimes asked her to share a few glasses of wine with them, after she had taken care of their horses, or read in their libraries. Sometimes it had led to more -- like Whiskey, or a shared bed for the night, sometimes she had withdrawn herself from the situation sooner than later. Now, Marlene felt little like running away, and more like staying, "When do you open?"