capturedinlies

[capturedinlies]

For once in her life, Isabelle had listened to her maids, and had refrained from wearing darker colors. Instead, she had chosen a light, rosy color, and had put on a dress she had never worn before. The fabric felt soft beneath her fingers, and it calmed her nerves, like the looser updo the maids had created with her hair. Entering the room she had grown so used to made her nervous, given she had no idea what he looked like -- just like her mother. "Oho!", Lady Locke exclaimed, turning to whisper to Isabelle, "He's handsome, Isabelle!" A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, and she gently ushered her mother away, who winked at Avi in bypassing.

"Apologies.", Isabelle laughed, "As you can see, my mother is quite excited about your attendance." Isabelle drops into a low curtsy, then gently touches his shoulder while pointing at a bench for him to sit on, "Miss Isabelle Adwani. It's such a pleasure to meet you. Please, do call me Isabelle." He was handsome, her mother was more than just correct -- and while he was not Thayer, Isabelle managed to brush every single thought about him out of her mind, at least for a few hours of time. "Would you perhaps like some tea? A few biscuits?"

closed starter for : @capturedinlies location : the locke household

Avi could've never imagined that he, a mere tutor, would be involved in the Queen's matchmaking. He had never courted a woman, his nose always buried in a book — his first, and only, love being Oxford University. But, what he'd gathered from novels Avi assumed he needed to call on his match, Miss Adwani. The two had never spoken, he'd only seen her from a distance and she was breathtaking. But would they have anything in common? The Queen, Avi surmised, seemed to think so.

He'd stopped by the Amorous Bloom to pick up a bouquet for Miss Adwani and as he stood in the Locke's drawing room, waiting for her entrance, he held the flowers up to his nose — a poor attempt to calm his nerves. Avi knew he was about to stand next to a woman with grace, elegance, and the power of sheer beauty and he was certain he'd succumb to his fears, to his nerves. How long would it be before she kicked him out? Wrote to the Queen that he was unacceptable? His mind spiraled so swiftly that he almost didn't hear her footsteps as she and her mother entered the room. "Miss Adwani," he bowed as a nervous, yet sickeningly giddy grin spread across his lips.

[capturedinlies]

( @bastien-landry -- Drawing Room, Locke Estate mid-day )

"Lord Landry." Isabelle's curtsey is short, and she immediately gestures for him to sit in a chair, barely giving him time to arrive. "It is quite lovely to finally meet you." Isabelle's mother, Lady Locke, eyes him curiously from a few meters away, where she is sat to read her book. "I assume that your visit is rooted in the Queen's decision to pair you with my dear friend, Miss Marisol Alavardo? The Cousin to Baron Alvarado? Yeah?" Isabelle sits down on the bench opposite of the chair, pets her dress, and takes the cup of steaming hot tea into her hand, "Please, have some tea, my Lord. You will need it."

Isabelle's eyes scan his features. His cousin? Sister? Or whatever else Maude is to him, is dear to Isabelle -- but that does not mean she trusts her family like she trusts her. Marisol went through a lot with Amos, and the next men that set foot into the house Alvarado, better be a good man. "You brought her flowers.", Isabelle points out, "Excellent. Now, do tell me, what else are you planning with her?"

[capturedinlies]

"Nonsense. You're trying, Amos. That is what matters." Gently, Isabelle begins to clean the blood off of his hand. It is not much, but his knuckles look like they will bruise, and she gently rubs them clean, so that they will at least look better, and will not get infected. "What is it that makes you think that way? All of us were childish, when it came to our parents settling down together. But that is for a reason. We had all just experienced a loss of someone who was dear to us. That does not mean one of us needs fixing. And if you are talking about the things you said to Miss Alvarado, I do begin to understand. We all say things we do not mean if were are afraid."

When she is done cleaning his hand, she holds onto it, and takes his other hand into her's, too, to put gentle pressure on them, "What is there to fix, Amos? Are you angry, is it that? Are you violent? Do you hurt others, that are dear to you?" Isabelle gently shakes her head, "What is important is, what I saw tonight. When Miss Alvarado was... threatened by this man, and you stepped in. That is what matters." She lifts her hand to rub a thumb across his cheek, "You're strong willed. Maybe, the slightest bit mean. But you also have a heart. Admitting you're afraid is braver than not ever being afraid. So admit it. If they ask you about it, tell them. Being able to hide such thing is strong, but you must be stronger now. And that, you can do. I know that you can."

The very last thing that he wanted was to have to have a heart to heart with his sister. And he didn't want her to feel the need to defend him, either. Though as she did, he felt the tears stinging at the backs of his eyes. He would not cry here. He would not let this man see how weak he was. Isabelle might say that he didn't need fixing but he knew that he did. He was broken, beyond repair. There was no other way. "Isabelle.." Amos sighed, shaking his head. He didn't want her drawing even more attention to him. He didn't need that right now.

And as she finished, he thought that he might be able to get away. But no. She pushed him inside of the carriage, instead. Amos longed to get away from this estate but it was far too early for them to do it now. He sighed and climbed inside, though. "Izzy." Amos pleaded. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to be stuck in here. "I am." He couldn't look at her as he spoke. "I am broken, Isabelle. Beyond fixing." He had pushed most of the people closest to him away because he didn't want them to see just how much he struggled. He did, however, hold out his hand for her. He could at least listen to her there.

[capturedinlies]

"You have just the right words to charm a lady back to a smile." Isabelle laughs softly. The dress was not her favorite, anyway, and so the pain is not as great as it could have been. "Thank you for your compliments. This dress is luckily not one of my most expensive and most appreciated ones, but rather old and one I rarely wear anyways. Perhaps I will gift it to one of my maids instead. She finds fun in repairing those I damage and loves to give them to her daughters after."

Isabelle smiles, and drops into a small curtsy. "It is an honor to meet you, Mister Erwood. How are the Sinclairs treating you? I heard they are quite the nice family." Isabelle looks around, "Would you do me the honors of walking me around a bit? I fear I might fall again if left alone," she laughs, "unless you are otherwise occupied."

The frustration was no fault of the lady’s; clearly those around them were more interested in the woman’s misfortune than actually helping her, and all William could think of was how needlessly cruel this world could be. “There is no need to apologise; I would have had the same reaction had I fallen, though I doubt it would have been as graceful as yours.” William tried his best to reassure the women, hoping that it would distract from those staring at her. He took a look at her dress, ruined by the dirt, and felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. “Between you and I, I think your dress still outshines everyone elses. Perhaps you have done them a kindness by falling.” William whispered with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

William could not help but laugh. Yes, his hand was dirtied with this encounter, but it was nothing compared to what he usually dealt with. “There is no need, Miss,” He held up his hand, rebuffing the generous offer. “I would ruin such a lovely piece, but I assure you, I fall over at least once a week, as do others around us, I’m sure.” William cleared his throat, forgetting how the English did their introductions, tied with the briefest of family history. “Mr. William Erwood, groom to the Sinclairs.” His parents names were hardly relevant, but he still felt as though they were missing, but how silly it would have been to bring it up.

[capturedinlies]

Peace, and quiet. Lady Locke is joining Isabelle for a relaxed cup of tea, and Isabelle has her eyes closed in relaxation, her navy blue dress wrapped around her body crafted out of gorgeous satin and silk. Then suddenly, yelling, when Thayer enters the room, and her eyes snap open. "Goodness gracious!" Lady Locke jumps in her chair, and rushes to get up, "Mister Thayer!" She has seen him as a teenager, ruthless, matching Isabelle in that sense, has seen them spend hours and hours together at the beach. Seeing him like this, plasters surprise all over her face.

"Thayer?" Isabelle sits up in her chair, "What is going on? Are you out of your mind?" Isabelle sends her mother a concerned look, and stands up from her chair, "Why do the Queen's choices regarding me concern you, Thayer?" Anger mirrors in her expressions, "You come here and cause a scene for what, Sir Claremont?" Oh, how badly she loves him. How obsessed she is with him. How she wishes that he was to come home to her and their children, not to yell at her about the Queen's choices, "I volunteered, in fact."

open to: @capturedinlies for miss isabelle adwani location: the locke house, mayfair, london, england.

Thayer threw the carriage door open, pavement under his feet not pushed past him fast enough. The slow roll of wheels never matching the beat of his heart to still it. It did not matter where his heart lied, for he no longer could place where he could hear it's drumming come from, but he knew one thing— no queen, no higher power, could ever know what desires lied in Isabelle's heart better than him. He knew how to defy it, and therefore he knew what was within it. If anyone could break it, let it only be him. What did she know of her ambition, of her strength, and would she be cursed simply because he had asked for time under the queen's decree? Selfish and he knew it, gluttonous, and yet he ran towards her despite his promises. "For Miss Adwani, please, have her come at once!" Thayer shouted at the footman, climbing every damned step of the house until he was at the door. "Isabelle!" What did formalities matter now? "Have you been summoned— tell me, I beg of you! Her Majesty, has she summoned you to the market under her own accord?"

[capturedinlies]

@rosewcterdrunk

BRIDGERTON 2.08 The Viscount Who Loved Me

[capturedinlies]

Isabelle tightly gripped Amos arm, and stopped him right in his tracks, so he would hear what she had to say. "He does not need fixing.", she barked at the man, completely disregarding all manners, "If he felt the need to interrupt your conversation with Miss Alvarado, perhaps she was not having fun, and you were simply too ignorant to notice. It seems like you need fixing. Has your mother not taught you basic respect? Are you jealous that woman even spare him a glance? Yeah? Talk to my brother again in such manner and you will regret it."

Isabelle pushed Amos in the direction of the carriage, her face burning red with anger, "Kit was right, then.", she mumbled to herself as she stepped up the stairs with the help of a footman, and let herself slump onto the bench on the opposite from Amos. "You don't need fixing.", Isabelle reassured, her voice firm, "You are not a broken doll that has shattered into thousands of pieces. You are a man, that served his country. I get nightmares about my father's death quite frequently. It is nothing that requires fixing." Quite obviously furious, Isabelle looks out of the window, before she pulls a handkerchief from her bag, and holds out her hand. "Show me your hand. We'll stay in here until he has gone, and then we will fetch the rest of the family."

who: amos & isabelle ( @capturedinlies ) where: outside the sinclair country estate

Amos' head was ringing as he stepped outside the next morning. He wasn't sure how long he had stayed up for, drinking. But he was most certainly paying for it now. He had thought that a little fresh air would make things worse... he was wrong. It had made him feel much, much worse now. The very last thing that he needed to see was the Lord who had hurt Marisol at the ball. He was in a bad enough mood as it was.

His intention was to ignore him. He would simply walk past, pretend like the night before hadn't happened. But then he heard the others words, "Your outburst last night certainly makes more sense now, Mr Locke. The women of the ton don't want to fix you so you have to take them away from the rest of us? Miss Alvarado and I were having fun before you came along." Amos had been angry the night before. But that anger mixed with his hangover? It was lethal. Before he could think better of it, he spun to face the man, his hand balled into a fist which collided to the side of the mans face.

He didn't wait around to see his reaction. He didn't need to see it. No. Instead, he moved past the dumb folded man and headed straight into the path of his step sister. "Oh, do not start, Isabelle." Amos huffed as he attempted to push past her.

[capturedinlies]

"Amos?", surprise mirrors in Isabelle's features, "Your brother, Amos? I thought they were sworn with hatred. Has nobody told you what Amos said to her? That she was undesirable and that nobody would ever want to marry her, or something like it. Marisol was devastated." Dancing with him in this friendly demeanor feels much better than all the childish tantrums, and yet there's a gentle sting in her heart, one that keeps reminding her of what brought them together as a family.

"Courting me?", Isabelle's lips curl up as if he just made a joke, and had not asked a serious question, "From my knowledge, his desire lies with Miss Catarina Barnet." Her eyes find her mother next to Lord Locke, and her heart burns even more. "It does not feel fair. To know that you love him just as much as I love him. It hurts my soul dearly, Kit." Isabelle stopped with the rest of the dancing crowd, and placed her hands on both of his upper arms, her gaze sincere. "I hope that one day, we can laugh about it. That we both find someone equally as desirable, that makes us happy." Lifting herself to the tips of her feet, Isabelle presses a kiss to his cheek,.

Recently Kit had felt as if he was caught in waves of pain, unable to reach up for air — reach up for a hand to save him. When Isabella approached him, he was more than ready for a truce between them. What good would it do to harbor animosity towards his stepsister? The only reason he'd been upset with her was because her mother had married his father so abruptly after his own mother's passing. That wasn't her fault, not in the slightest. Besides, Kit was desperate for connection — something both Amos and Thayer had been denying him recently. Isabelle asking him for a dance caused a relieved smile to play on his lips. "Of course, sister," he used the term for the first time since their parents had met, and he meant it as a truce — a peace offering.

Kit took his stepsister's hand in his, leading her to the dance floor. He was happy that the two were finally getting to know one another — he felt that they were much more alike than he'd originally thought. Placing a hand on the small of her back as they began to dance, he shook his head with a laugh. "I fear Miss Alvarado might be using me simply to make Amos jealous," he chuckled. "My affections lie elsewhere," he admitted, "I've found myself in the middle of turmoil, to be honest. But there's a man who's shown me hope." He assumed there was much unresolved between Isabelle and Thayer, and he knew there was much unresolved between him and Thayer. There was a painful hole in his heart caused by Thayer that was threatening to get infected, threatening to die off. He could've never imagined that the man he'd been hung up over for years also had affairs with his stepsister. Deep down, he knew she was more worthy of him. She was beautiful, smart, focused — all he was was pathetic, emotional, desperate. He chewed on his lower lip as he listened to Isabelle and sighed, "You need not apologize. It's not your fault either — how could we have known? We knew him at different moments in our lives." His heart hurt — he wasn't sure if he was ready to ask the next question, but it spilled out before he could stop himself. "Are you two...Is he courting you?"

[capturedinlies]

"Nonsense!", Lady Locke laughs softly, "What is a dance when there are a thousand more to dance." Isabelle's heart burns as she averts her gaze, "I would never deny you a dance.", she admits. Her hand is tingling wherever he touches it, and so does the rest of her body when she follows him to dance. Silent longing fills the void in between them until Isabelle breaks the silence once they're close. "Fuck me senseless?" Her smile is perfectly pristine, and yet her tone is violently mocking, "Surprising to find out that it has worked. What sense is left in your heart?"

A step backwards, and forward again, a turn, until her back is pressed up against his chest, and they move sidewards. "What is equally surprising, is that my mother has not yet heard that you have come to be the ton's most prestige whore. You talk of longing and the tide drawing you in, you talk of desire. I know you want me, Thayer.", she breathes the words out like they're a burden, her heart beating up into her throat, "But can you handle me? I told you what would be needed if you desired to talk to me again. If you do not have the time to spare that buying a ring requires, maybe you should stop sticking your dick up my step-brother's arse." Isabelle pauses, gifts him her nicest smile, "Apologies. I of course meant it the other way around. Funny to assume that you could ever take control."

Isabelle turns once again, before looking him straight in the eye, "Imagine it. A man with serious intentions, and me, at our wedding. Imagine him touching me, kissing me. Imagine me having his children. And then tell me, Thayer Claremont, does that not raise the slightest of emotions inside of your chest?"

There was some semblance of understanding, and thought it felt as though they had finally escaped the crashing of the shore and could breathe— it felt as though they were oceans apart once more. Anything he did to beg for her eye, her consideration, was just another means to keep his head above water. Isabelle was the only one who knew him untouched, knew the very best parts of him to ensure they did not die within this tainted vessel he'd made himself. To wrong her, was there no chance left to be good? He had to try. Her words echo in his head not only for her, but the life he seemed to reject ever so slowly around him.

"You can decline, Miss Adwani," He says, some feeble kind of offering as he takes her hand. They both walk politely around Lady Locke's request, old habits too easily indulged. There is a chance for her to run if she so desired it with a few more paces to the heart of the ballroom. "For a man with serious intentions."

His remark, however, does not hold the distain he would have hoped for. It is clouded by shame, a spill of her disappointment tainting even his own view of his prospects. Even through his attempts, Thayer holds doubts shrouded in guilt for even trying.

[capturedinlies]

( @xofbenevolencex -- The Sinclair Estate early in the evening )

Tired eyes spot Haneul at the side of the crowd, and immediately light up. After their encounter in the Opera, Isabelle had surely thought about the man more often. He was funny and quite interesting, and they shared some interests. He was also nice, and not as insufferable as some other men she had met, or been courted by. Isabelle made her way through the crowd, the soft lilac dress wrapping around her curves, and she stoped right in front of him, dropping into a soft curtsy.

"Mister Haneul. I'm delighted to see you again. May I perhaps bribe you into a dance? So far my dance card seems fairly empty, and I thought we could hold further conversation about the next lovely opera." Isabelle bats her eyelashes at him, "Of course, feel free to decline."

[capturedinlies]

( @rosewcterdrunk -- The Sinclair Estate late, in the evening )

Isabelle does not need to turn around to recognize the shoulder's she bumped into with her own. She could recognize his figure everywhere, even if touched with only a pinky finger. Her heart skips a few beats, but her mother does not notice. "Oh dear! My daughter seems to be especially clumsy today.", the woman chimes, curtsying in front of Thayer with a smile plastered across her face. She has known him for long enough to recognize his face without further ado, and she gently squeezes his shoulders only seconds after -- not quite aware that this is the mysterious man that did not show up at their house, when he was meant to. "You have grown into a gorgeous young man. A young man without a wife. And if you allow me to admit, I had always deemed you paired well with my lovely Isabelle right here."

Isabelle stays frozen, right beside her mother, "Isabelle! You must share a dance with him!" Gently nudging her daughter forward, Lady Locke offers the two of them a reassuring smile, "Isabelle, do not dare to decline!", her mother grins softly, "You can take one more dance." Like a robot, Isabelle holds her hand out, fingers shaking slightly, "One dance will not hurt any more."

[capturedinlies]

( @secretgcrdens -- The Sinclair Estate after the ball has started )

"Share a dance with me?" Isabelle's words are spoken in a surprisingly soft way. Ever since finding Thayer in her step-brother's room, she had held her distance from her man, barely leaving her chambers, barely being around the house, not even during the visiting hours. But her last conversation with Thayer had her thinking, and Isabelle settled for one decision: It had not been Kit's fault. It never had been. It had been Thayer's, for not seeking her out -- and yet that had turned out to be a misunderstanding, one she feared she could forgive.

Isabelle held her hand out for Kit to take, a soft smile on her lips, "Rumors say, a beautiful Lady has taken interest in you. Miss Marisol Alvarado? I have to admit I am quite curious, and would like to inquire about her further." Awaiting his reaction, Isabelle allows herself to glance away for a second, "And I owe you an apology for casting my anger at you, when nothing of it was your fault."

[capturedinlies]

"Have we met?" With the kindest of smiles plastered across her face, Isabelle masters the art of acting like she has not laid eyes on Thayer even once before, "I do not think we were introduced to each other. My name is Miss Isabelle Adwani, daughter to Lady Locke. Though I have to warn you, I only intend to talk to men with serious intentions."

Then, with a splash, lemonade is spread all across her dress, that was so carefully handcrafted by the modiste, and Isabelle feels her fake smile drop immediately. Her eyes start to burn, with every slightest chance of finding a real suitor being ruined within seconds, and even if Thayer follows her up the stairs, to the washing room, Isabelle feels anger burning inside her chest. "You did that on purpose.", she says -- not angry, not furious, but disappointed. "You ruin my night just for a few spare seconds of my attention, thinking of no one but yourself. I did not ignore you. You ignored me after what happened at the diamond ball. You ignored me. I did not see a single sight of you, until you walked out of my step-brother's room. And that was enough of a message, Thayer."

Furiously scrubbing her hands in the sink, Isabelle dries them off with a towel, and then she turns, stares him in the eye, and strikes his face with her palm so hard that she has to clench it in pain after, so hard that the noise echoes off of the wall. "You're a dirty liar, and a whore. You coaxed me into your net of chivalries, dared to be so, so soft to me. Dared to act like you love me."

Isabelle takes a deep breath. Opens, and closes her hand. She has long started crying out of anger, tears smudging her makeup quite clearly, "The next time you talk to me, you will be on your knees, with a ring box in your hands, or you will never talk to me again at all."

open to: @capturedinlies for miss isabelle adwani location: musings of spring matinee, thorpe manor, mayfair, london, england.

Of all the memories he had of her, none compare to the look in her eye he could make out even in the dark. He could see the furrow in her brow, the tilt of her features that pointed away from any kind of surprise or amusement. There couldn't be a word for it, and not even a hundred would suffice how he thought he should have buried himself in that garden when he saw her again. Days he spent trying to find the lodgings of the Adwani family, and he'd found her the moment he's finally stopped looking. He'd lost her not once, but twice. Against the bookshelves, a hundred hands it seems violate such tellings of the human condition to make a mockery of its poetry in an impulsive performance. He had tried to catch her eye twice, called out to her, and she had ignored him even beyond manners now. "Isabelle— Miss Isabelle," He corrected himself, letting his voice cut over the chatter. This time he would have to play against her rather than for her, knocking the glass of lemonade from her hand. Spilled and soiling even when sticky sweet, he moves to help her if only to use this display of chivalry to finally coax her to engage. "My apologies, Miss Isabelle." This time, quieter, softer. He can only bring himself to a murmur of a plea, lined with the hope that she will deny it. "Do you intend to ignore me forever?"

[capturedinlies]

Slightly taken aback in surprise, Isabelle opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it to perform a slight curtsy. She has never quite believed in not showing the non-noble folk the same kind of respect she shows the rest of her peers, and when she lifts her head up and opens her eyes again, a smile has curled around her lips. "Miss Isabelle Adwani. Daughter to Lady Locke." Curiosity mirrors inside her dark eyes, "Your performance on stage was quite enchanting." An honest compliment -- she likes to think of it in a way where she does not have to say anything nice, she simply does not say anything.

"And what's your name?" Isabelle catches sight of a costume, and gently touches it's fabric, before she gifts him a second glance, smile still present, "I would be delighted to find out."

After a performance, Elijah always felt like he was on cloud 9. Acting always gave him a bit of an adrenaline rush like nothing else. Today, he didn't expect to have anyone in the audience so instead of rushing - so he could go see his friends - Elijah decided to take his time. He loved the theatre more than his own house. It felt more like home than his house. And he spent more time in the theatre than he did anywhere else. Sometimes, he'd joke that they'd find him sleeping there - though it wasn't always as much as joke as he pretended it to be.

Elijah raised an eyebrow as he heard the voice of someone that he did not know. He turned to face perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. His eyes were quick to scan over her before he nodded his head. "I will..." Elijah nodded, though it was clear he wasn't done. "If you tell me your name first." He smiled as he stood up.

[capturedinlies]

"I carry a deep love for everything green, lilac, and everything crested with pearls. Perhaps growing up at the seaside is at fault for that. I always admired picking up shells, and was enchanted when one of them carried a pearl. Then there were splinters of rounded of glass to be found at the beach sometimes, which I loved to collect in my room." Isabelle sighs deeply as she turns her back towards the jeweler, the windows hidden behind curtains as well, so no one even gets the idea to steal a piece, "I have quite the jewelry collection back in my step-father's estate, if you would ever like to see it?"

The smile on her lips is kind and honest, "I would be delighted to have you there as a visitor. Especially now that the jeweler is closed down."

Juliet had loved to come to the jeweler's - perhaps just a sneak peak of what was to come on display. When her father was alive, he spared no expense for her jewelry on her special birthdays and so she had hoped to go and see what was there - only to have a closed sign on the door. "I suppose it is! I too must have gotten lost in my tea over at the cafe - how silly of me. I enjoyed my tea and scone too much to make it on time to look upon the new jewels - it seems we have both lost track, haven't we?" Juliet bowed, smiling at the woman with most polite instinct. "Ah, yes! Miss Isabelle, is it not? It is a pleasure again, I am sure of it. Miss Juliet Thorpe, yes - daughter to Lady Thorpe and Lord Thorpe. Most obliged, Miss Isabelle." Juliet smiled, kindly so. "Did you have a piece you were looking up? I must would have loved to see it - jewels are quite my weakness."

[capturedinlies]

The man sitting right next to her had caught her attention immediately after she had sat down, and when he opened a conversation with her, Isabelle could feel a glimpse of excitement rush through her chest. "So very beautiful.", she whispered to not disturb the crowd, "And the grace with which she carries herself. I am more than just jealous of her beauty."

Isabelle turned in his direction, holding out her gloved hand, "I do not believe we were introduced yet. Miss Isabelle Adwani. Daughter to Lady Locke." A smile wrapped around her lips, "Do you throughouly enjoy the opera, Sir? Do you come here often?"

closed starter for @capturedinlies

location: the royal opera house

Haneul had always been a fan of the opera, it was something only his closest family members knew about him, not because he was ashamed but mainly because he tended to keep to himself often. Today had been one of those days he decided to watch a show at the local opera and he couldn't help but smile as he listened to the singer's words. "You know, I have absolutely no idea what she is saying, but there is something so beautiful about the unknown." He admitted, closing his eyes as he listened closer to the music. "It's quite entertaining, is it not?"

[capturedinlies]

"How can you have fun when all your senses are overwhelmed by perfume, and your feet hurt from dancing too much?" Isabelle gently nudges Emma's side with her elbow, and then cycles back to the topic seaside -- "Really, please, be my guest. Our house there is enchanting." Seemingly, Isabelle seems to struggle with her words for a few seconds, then she makes a decision, and speaks about what is on her mind. "I have noticed some talk, about your marriage with the duke. About your age difference, and similar things. I fear that has deeply touched me, and I wanted to tell you something." Isabelle takes both of her hands in hers, and sends her a soft, sisterly gaze -- "As long as you are happy, as long as you are content, please ignore them. They are the ones dissatisfied with their life. They are the ones that spend their time talking negatively about you. And I have gotten to know you quite well in this short period time, and think of you as one of the nicest, kindest women I have met. Yes, you are younger than he is. But that does not make you less worthy of this. You are a great Duchess, Emma."

Isabelle gives her hands a soft squeeze, "Apologies if these were words too private. I was just sure that if I had noticed during the short period of time I have spent here, that you must have, too."

“Nothing would please me more.” Emma’s voice is soften by wishful longing, the image of a frothy wave against a beach stretching itself across her retina. She could count on one hand the times she had seen the ocean, and the thought that for some, the feeling of salt on skin and wind in your hair was commonplace never ceased to fill her with amazement. Perhaps she would have liked to settle by the sea herself, had the cards been stacked differently. “It is rather spectacular, isn’t it. I overheard someone speaking of getting Dutch tulips brought in for the spring.”

“Who are your options?” She asks, eyebrow lifted as thought to prompt the other to continue. At the request for tips, Emma cannot help but laugh. “Oh, I am not certain I would not take my own advice on this matter. I got married during the war, so this is all as fresh to me as it is to you. Have people told you to have fun? I fear that’s a lost art what matchmaking is concerned.”