quinnverse

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𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 📚  𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

[quinnverse]

open to: m/f/nb ! muse: honoria smythe-smith notes: every year the smythe-smith family holds a musicale where four of the family's daughters perform. it is notorious for being awfulTM and for being a spectacle. after this year's performance, honoria is trying to seem polite by greeting guests before she leaves.

The musicale had gone well. Or as well as a Smythe-Smith musicale could go. The music had been horrendous, as expected, and the crowds as large as ever, only nurturing the embarrassment for her family. Iris had nearly thrown herself out of the window, desperate to skip the performance altogether, but, Honoria, on the other hand, didn’t mind the sliver of embarrassment. Family traditions were sacred to her and, soon enough she wouldn’t have to perform in the musicales anymore. Once she married, she’d be free of her familial duty to perform in the quartet and a new generation of embarrassment would be ushered in after her.

She wore a grateful smile as she cut through the crowd, thanking the lingering members of the audience for their patience. God only knew why people still showed up to her family’s events, but she was grateful for their presence nonetheless. There was nothing worse, Honoria found, than performing for empty seats. Her fingers ached from performing and she silently cursed herself for letting Daisy pick the song. But as she fumbled to massage her hands beneath her gloves, she nearly collided with another and it was only out of sheer luck that she didn't go tumbling to the floor.

[quinnverse]

"Oh, I would never." She teased with a cheeky grin. "My real talent lies in acapella." The mental image of him belching a song out to a crowd was enough to spur her into a small fit of giggles. In her world, men never did anything unsightly--or that's what they'd have the world believe. Always prim and proper, raking behavior notwithstanding, a man in their world could do no wrong. Yet Ben didn't seem ashamed of such supposed flaws. His humility and honesty was refreshing and, if she had to confess as much, slightly intoxicating.

If her sisters were present to witness her shameless flirting, they would be disappointed in her. Or at least that's what Amelia tells herself. She knows she shouldn't be here, talking to an unmarried man alone, but if her own fiancé didn't pay any attention to her, what was the harm in finding some attention from another? It wasn't anything lascivious, she told herself. Just a friendly, casual conversation with a peer. It was little more than the simple joy of seeing and being seen in return; a measly reward for tolerating as much as she did.

Her cheeks flushed at his retort. “No, I suppose I don’t. But I have very little choice in the matter, so I try to make the best of it. Hence,” She teased, her tone self deprecating and dripping in sarcasm. “Why I have subjected myself to possible scandal and escaped to a secluded location with a total stranger."

Amelia simpered, a buzz of adrenaline rushing through her body at the revelation. This was wholly unladylike and entirely unbecoming of a future duchess, but she didn't care. If a bit of friendly flirting was what she needed to stop Amelia from throwing herself into the Thames, it seemed a noble sacrifice.

“True, I may not have the same reasons as you, but I did my fair share of rebelling." Her girlish ideas of rebellion were undoubtedly different than what a young boy might do, but the consequences were equally dire, if not worse for a young lady. A single skipped piano lesson, a feigned illness to avoid a dance, or even threatening to run away were commonplace in young Amelia's life, but now that she had far more to lose, she found her means of insurrection far more subtle.

"As the eldest daughter, I was—am—expected to set a good example for my sisters, and evidently for society as a whole. I’m supposed to be perfect. The way I dress, the way I speak, who I associate myself with. Even the way I smile is at risk of being criticized." Letting out a frustrated sigh, she brought her train of thought back to the point. "Needless to say, I often tested the limits of such expectations in my youth. To no avail, unfortunately, but I did manage to find a few loopholes."

The smile that graced her lips was proud and unwavering like a child proud of a small achievement, fully unaware of how insignificant such a feat was in the grand scheme of things. The only difference was that Amelia was aware of how little her choices mattered. Her life had been written out for her before she'd even opened her eyes for the first time. Her entire future scribbled in ink on parchment and agreed upon by the same men that tried to belittle and undermine her at every opportunity. For Amelia, the idea that she might have any say over the trajectory of her life was rebellious enough, and she'd long since given up hope of changing her father's mind.

"Me?" she began, amusement laced in her words. "I would never think to dog-ear a page in anything. A flower or feather does the trick just as well. But, if you choose to see me as a respectable young lady, I wouldn't dare prove you wrong. It will make my own nefarious deeds easier to get away with. 'Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't.'" Amelia grinned and tilted her head back, taking in the view of the sky from her perch. Were the stars always so bright, or had she truly been locked away in her proverbial tower for so long?

"Guilt is not my intention, no, but if it works, I'm not opposed to applying such harsh tactics." Scrunching her nose, Amelia offered a light shrug and bit back a smug grin. "Well, if you are half as charming with others as you are with me, I’m sure the invitations are genuine. Especially considering you are not married."

As the thought crossed her mind, Amelia's smile faltered and a strange twinge of unprompted jealousy sprouted in her stomach. "The Bridgerton still have unwed daughters. They're rather beautiful, from what I hear. Do none of them interest you at all?" After a moment, Amelia bowed her head and averted her gaze. "I apologize, that's rather untoward of me to ask. I know it's none of my business, I just tend to enjoy living vicariously through others."

Benjamin grinned, unsure if he should indulge the idea of a concert of one. "Just so long as you don't request any accompaniment, I might be amenable," he teased, "though I've been told I can belch a beautiful rendition of 'Tom Bowlin.' Not that I'm so crass, of course -- I much prefer to do the severely less rude art form of whistling."

Amelia blinked up at him then, appearing startled. "You don't enjoy social gatherings?"

"You do?" he countered. Offering a soft smile, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "It's not that I don't enjoy them, per se...I just much prefer to be social with my actual friends. I find it unhealthy to pretend I give one whit about these pompous ratbags."

Tucking his hands into his coat pockets, Benjamin only turned his head when Amelia provoked him with a challenge, her eyebrow lifting while she spoke of roughhousing amongst girls. He grinned, visible disbelief lighting up his eyes. "And who, may I ask, are you speaking of here? You?" He laughed then, turning back to face the front. "A vivid spark you may be, but a hellion you are not. With all due respect, Miss, I can't imagine you doing anything untoward, except maybe dogearing the pages in your Bible."

Amelia wasn't dissuaded. "Either way, I can't imagine a pastor's son would get up to anything truly nefarious. I'd be willing to bet you were a perfect angel."

Benjamin grinned. "Nefarious, no," he agreed, "but I was far from perfect. Don't you know that children from godly households are the very first to rebel? I was constantly getting a switch to my behind."

Amelia spoke of his "impressive skill set," and demonstrating them at another time -- an idea, admittedly, that he hadn't contemplated, despite very much enjoying her company. Amelia wasn't bubble-headed, or severe like so many of the women he'd met over the weeks here in England, and he was grateful to a taste of normalcy.

"Are you planning on attending any more events in the future?" she asked him. "If not, I do hope you will enjoy reading an extra long novel, in my honor."

"Are you trying to guilt me into saying yes?" he teased. Expression softening, Benjamin allowed, "I'm not really sure... Since I work for the Bridgertons, I am invited to many of these gatherings, but I sincerely doubt it's because people are vying for my company, so much as politeness towards my employers...so yes." He bobbed his head. "I imagine I will be making an appearance or two, but if the companionship becomes too unbearable, I might steal away to read from that 'extra long novel' you mentioned."

[quinnverse]

› TENSION LINER PROMPTS

“I dare you to try.” “Do you always get close?” “You’re pushing my limits.” “Stop looking at me like that.” “I’m losing control here.” “You have no idea, do you?” “I can’t resist you anymore.” “Stay back, or don’t.” “I know what you want.” “This is getting dangerous now.” “You’re too tempting for me.” “I shouldn’t want this, but…” “I don’t play fair, remember?” “Careful, you’re testing me.” “You’re just making it worse.” “You’re too close for comfort.” “Do you always push buttons?” “Stop before I kiss you.” “You’re making it too hard.” “I can’t stop thinking about you.” “I want you too much.” “You know exactly what you’re doing.” “I’m not playing games here.” “You’ve crossed the line now.” “Keep pushing, and you’ll regret it.” “This is dangerous, isn’t it?” “I’m trying not to care.” “Don’t make me regret this.” “You’re playing with fire.” “You don’t know what’s coming.” “I shouldn’t be this close.” “We’re getting dangerously close now.” “I can feel the heat.” “Don’t test me right now.” “I want you too badly.” “Don’t make me chase you.” “You’re distracting me, you know.” “I won’t fall for this.” “I want you, but…” “What do you want from me?” “I’ll never give in.” “I’m trying not to care.” “You’re playing with my patience.” “Don’t make this harder, please.” “I can’t stop this feeling.” “I’m already in too deep.” “You won’t walk away unscathed.” “You’re walking a fine line.” “I’m trying to stay calm.” “What are you doing to me?”

[quinnverse]

“Humans are hard to read. With animals, I know when they're happy or hungry, or even jealous. But humans... Everything is hidden behind a smile. It's terribly confusing." Henry ignored the urge to rub her temples. "I'm more likely to be able to guess what my sheep are thinking than I could another human. Too many charades for my liking."

His comment on her dress caused a chuckle to erupt from her chest, the confines of her bodice stifling the laugh in its entirety. The dress had been a last-minute find ,and Henry didn't have to be up-to-date with the latest fashion trends to know it was an eyesore. While pinks and blues seemed to be all the rage in the fashion landscape, Henry had entered the establishment in a gaudy chartreuse gown, only solidifying her estrangement of the in-crowd.

Henry would've much preferred something simpler and far less restricting. Even the male's ensembles seemed too fanciful for her tastes and she couldn't imagine a single person in this building was at all comfortable. Sparkles and lace served no purpose, even if they did make her look--and feel--a tad more respectable.

“No, it’s not comfortable at all, really. It’s out of style and ill-fitting, but it’s all I had. The knowledge of my attendance tonight was rather last minute." Shaking her head, she was reminded of the heavy jewels dangling from her ears and the jingling sounds they made in movement reminded her of a barn cat's collar. Yes, she thought, she was a feral cat in a sea of hunting dogs.

“Well, I'm certainly not the right partner, if coordination or grace is what you seek. I couldn't tell you the difference between a quadrille and a waltz if my life depended on it.” She laughed, her tone self-deprecating. Perhaps it was unwise to confess such ignorance to a stranger, but Lord Debling's eyes were kind and his smile seemed genuine. He didn't seem malevolent on the exterior, but humans, as she'd noted, were impossibly hard to read.

She hadn't taken dance lessons or music lessons in her youth, and if she could barely manage a proper bow and greeting, there was no chance that Henry would be caught dead on the dance floor. It was a recipe for disaster and a horrid idea. But a part of her hoped he’d ask, just to make her feel less alienated—even if she had every intention of declining said offer.

“The arctic?” Stunned into near silence, Henry turned to look at him disbelievingly. “Are you being serious, or are you just teasing me? Because if it's the latter, I’m afraid I’m not well-versed in the art of societal pretenses, so such things are likely to go over my head.” Her tone was curt and direct, as though she were describing the color of her eyes or her hair. Her incompetence in higher society wasn’t something to be proud of per se but it was foolish to think she could disguise it.

“Either way, the arctic sounds exciting. Though rather daunting as well. Tell me, are you not afraid of freezing your nose or your fingers off? I’ve heard that frostbite is terribly unpleasant."

A person's reaction to his name could say so much. Either they had heard something of him and would react accordingly, pretend not to, or would genuinely search their minds for the name of a man who spent as little time in this habitat as possible. Lord Debling relied primarily on instincts, having very little else to go on. He preferred an honest reaction, even an unfavorable one. Time would tell which camp Miss Barrett’s fell into.

Lord Debling noted the slight stumble in her curtsy as he took in everything else, empirically and analytical. It might be nerves or more interestingly, lack of practice. He had endured a seemingly endless series of lessons and his sisters’ education from what he'd seen was still more intense- the stakes were higher. It would say something if she had not perfected her technique; for now he could not guess what, but it did distinguish her from the others.

So did her response, which sparked a hopeful gleam in his eyes. True honesty was something he valued, and an endangered species in this setting. Lord Debling leaned forward subtly to hint at his interest in the answer. When she spoke, he was indeed rewarded. The forthrightness was welcome in itself, and then her interests were refreshingly off the beaten path too. Another layer of polite veneer fell away from his smile, even as it grew. “All worthwhile pursuits- and I must agree with you. Even the human animal differs person by person, but as a collective… well, 'mob’ describes it fairly well.”

He was delighted to have so easily stumbled across a kindred spirit of sorts. Perhaps it was built into his own eccentricities, but at nearly every gathering he managed to encounter one; it was not always so quick to present itself, however. "That dress looks beautiful but clearly it does not make you comfortable," he commented, able to sympathize somewhat. His own garb didn't differ as drastically from his preferences, but it still felt foreign in cut and material.

What really left him uneasy like a rabbit scenting the wind for a fox was the rest of it. Lord Debling was skilled at not letting the chatter about him crawl under his skin— or at least, giving that impression. In reality more got past his defenses than he would display, the wounded animal not willing to show weakness for safety. It made these unusual encounters even more crucial to him; if he must subject himself to this environment, at least he could find those who were similarly maladapted, however well they might be able to play the game. He held his hands clasped behind him; this felt instinctually less threatening, though he had no way of knowing its effect.

"Quite safe," he assured her with an amused crinkle of a smile. "I do enjoy dancing, but only with the right partner. As for the refreshments, the food at least is prone to contain unwelcome surprises for me, so I am not eager to explore such dangerous terrain. I prefer to reserve that for the wilderness. Any wilds would do, but I look forward to a research expedition to the arctic once this season is ended." He took a beat to observe her reaction. It was no great secret why he was bothering to attend this season's festivities, but he hated to voice it aloud.

[quinnverse]

We love shipping in this house. 😍 Reblog if it's okay for partners to ask for a pre-established ship with your muse(s)!

Doesn't mean you have to accept, but you're totally down to discuss it!

[quinnverse]

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met him.” And she had no intention on ever meeting him, if she had any choice in the matter. Her new guardian could easily be a respected man of the gentry, a wise and intelligent man who might serve as a good influence upon Henry, but she didn’t need a guardian. She had taken care of herself for long enough. She didn’t need a man to step in and rescue her from a life she’d build on her own. And she certainly didn't need a man to dictate the rest of her life for her.

But it seemed escaping men’s gallantry in its entirety was near impossible. In a world where men held the upper hand in all aspects, she knew she would have to play her cards carefully. If she wanted to make it out of the Highlands alive, she would need someone who knew the lay of the land and, as it stood, it seemed that this stranger fell under that qualification.

“Henry,” She supplied after a long moment of contemplation. She debated whether or not it would be wise to offer a fake name. If the Crown’s minions came back, they’d be looking for a Henrietta, but anyone who knew her knew better than to call her that. Anyone who called her that either didn't know her or had no respect for her. She was Henry, and only strangers called her by her full name.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?" Arching a brow, she crossed her arms over her chest to stop her hands from trembling. Despite the desperation to remain stoic and brave, Henry knew that she was severely disadvantaged out here. He could easily lead her astray, take her somewhere remote and kill her if he wanted to. But she wanted to believe he was a man of his word, she needed to believe that he was. "How do I know you won’t turn me over as soon as we arrive? And what’s to stop your kin from doing so?”

@quinnverse from here

Kieran studied her like a man reading a battlefield—watching for cracks, for tremors, for the truth buried beneath the bravado. She was well-spoken, polished, likely raised on etiquette and powdered tea cakes. But there was mud on her hem, a wildness in her eyes, and defiance etched into her spine. Not the kind bred by leisure, no—this was the quiet, desperate kind. The kind that either gets a lass killed or turns her into legend. And Christ above, hadn’t he seen enough women ground under the Crown’s heel to know the look? He took a slow step forward, just enough to catch her scent—travel-dulled, but still stubborn—and tipped his head slightly. “Aye, runnin’ away never does go smoothly,” he murmured, voice gentling now, rougher at the edges but low, as though he didn’t want to scare her back into silence. “Especially when the bastards chasin’ ye wear red.” His gaze flicked once more toward the fog-swallowed path where Harrington had vanished. The man would be back—of that, Kieran had no doubt. With reinforcements, no less. The Crown didn’t like being told no, and it bloody hated being told it on Highland soil. Kieran exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. “Yer guardian sounds like the sort of man who mistakes control for care,” he said dryly, eyes narrowing. “There’s a sickness in the South for that. Dress it up in silk and call it duty, but it's chains all the same.”

He moved to his horse, giving the reins a tug, and glanced at her sidelong. “Now, I’ve no wish to start a war with yer keeper—or the King, for that matter. But I’m also not keen on leavin’ a lass to fend for herself on my lands when she's clearly been hunted like game.” Then came the smirk—lazy, crooked, touched with just enough charm to make a storm seem like a dance. “So, Miss…?” He let the silence hang just long enough to invite her name before he continued, “Ye’ve got two choices. I ride off and leave you to continue this ill-fated escape with mud in your boots and Harrington on your heels. Or…” He tapped the side of his boot with one gloved hand. “Ye ride with me. There’s a place—quiet, safe enough, for now. My kin won’t turn you in, and I’ll wager you’ll get more peace there than ye’ve had.”

[quinnverse]

"You suppose?" Despite the express of mock offense on her face, Amelia couldn't hide the amusement in her voice. "Well, if all else fails, I could sing to you. It couldn't be much worse than what's happening inside." She flashed a playful grin, teeth peeking out between pink-rouged lips. Although the countless lessons in manners urged against smiling with her teeth, Amelia couldn't help it. Her heart felt light and airy, and utterly care-free that she didn't care to maintain her ladylike demeanor.

"You don't enjoy social gatherings?" Surprised, Amelia studied his features. She wasn't the biggest fan of parties and soirees, but they were a necessary evil in her life. Although she never needed to attend them for the same reason as other girls her age, showing her face at the hottest events was still required if she wanted to maintain her positive reputation. Once she was married, she was sure her social outings would be minimized. Thomas didn't like attending gatherings, either, and the only ones he did were the ones that held political weight.

But she had a feeling that Ben's distaste for social gatherings was more akin to her own than to Thomas.

"Anomaly or no, that sounds like a wonderful time." Amelia felt a flush of shame wash over her. She didn't read very often, but she tried to any chance she was allowed. Her schedules were out of her control and, until she was officially married, her father insisted on keeping her busy as to not 'encourage laziness'. But amidst the piano, language, history, and dancing lessons, Amelia hardly had the time to rest let alone enjoy a book.

Even if she was awarded a break to kick up her feet and read a book, it was next to impossible to find a moment's peace in the Willoughby household. With five daughters, nearly all of marrying age, the halls were constantly filled with chatter and music. It seemed as though every week a new suitor came to call upon her sisters while Amelia was forced to sit in as a chaperone, wishing her own fiancé could be kind enough to pay a visit.

"Nothing for a lady such as myself." She repeated, drawing out the syllables as she eyed him curiously. Amelia was well aware of what the rest of the ton thought of her. She was pretty sure she knew what her own betrothed thought of her, and what her father thought of her. But it was hard for Amelia to guess exactly what this charming stranger thought of her. Did he think her prude and pompous? Surely there were plenty of women in high society that matched those qualities, but Amelia liked to believe she was rather humble in comparion to other ladies her age.

“Do you mean to imply that a little roughhousing among boys is beyond a lady’s comprehension? Because, I assure you, little girls can be hellions in their own right. I know I was." The quirk at the corner of her mouth betrayed any sense of real upset at his words, but she narrowed her eyes at him for the full effect. "Either way, I can't imagine a pastor's son would get up to anything truly nefarious. I'd be willing to bet you were a perfect angel."

He shot at wink in her direction and it took all the strength in her core not to burst into a fit of giggles. He was a strange fellow, surely, but he was utterly enchanting in a way Amelia couldn't quite describe. Was this how Thomas behaved around Grace? Was this how normal men behaved around ladies? He wasn't stuck up and snooty like most old men she met, nor was he haughty and boastful like most of the young men that made her acquaintance. By all accounts, he was, as he said, an anomaly and it sparked her interest immensely.

“You make a rather tempting offer, Mister Tallmadge," she began, casting her gaze out at the darkened scenery. "But I’m afraid I’m not really dressed for the occasion. Unless you plan to use my handicap to your advantage, perhaps it would be better to show me your impressive skill set another time."

Amelia shot him a wink in return before turning her attention back to the darkness.

The thought of seeing him again elicited a spark of joy in her chest, a foreign feeling after what felt like a lifetime of stagnancy. If he didn't enjoy social gatherings very much, Amelia worried that she might never see him again after this night and the sheer thought of attending another event alone struck a heavy sense of dread into her heart.

"Are you planning on attending any more events in the future? I know you mentioned you're not keen on social gatherings," Ignoring the flush of warmth on her cheeks, Amelia pressed on. "But it would be nice to see a friendly face there, if you were to attend any. If not, I do hope you will enjoy reading an extra long novel, in my honor."

"I presume you mean yourself?" Feigning innocence, Benjamin made a show of searching high and low along the terrace. "Tragically, I can't seem to find another agreeable person...but I suppose you'll do. For now." Here, his lips quirked to show his jest, and he looked back out over the twinkling expanse of sky. Somehow, it was easy to be free (if not utterly ridiculous) in her presence. Amelia didn't seem like the others -- nor himself -- and for that, Benjamin was grateful.

Amelia waved a hand in dismissal. "Besides, I don't think anyone would question my leaving early. I'm sure half the heads in there wish they could do the same. Including the ones on stage."

Benjamin snorted. "Although the idea of floating heads leaving en masse is a bit terrifying, I do see your point. If nothing else, this night has given my ears a new reason to dread social gatherings."

Amelia joined him alongside the banister, her eyes gleaming nearly as much as the stars overhead. "So, Mister Tallmadge, what is it people do for fun in America?"

Benjamin had to grin. "Certainly not this. Or at least, no one in my social circle attended musicales. The occasional play or opera, yes, but unless there was a potential match on the horizon, you couldn't pay us to listen to accomplished -- or in this case, tone deaf -- ladies sing."

While he spoke, Amelia removed the jewels from her ears. It was an odd gesture -- in a way, rather intimate, seeing how he'd never before witnessed such a thing -- and averting his eyes again, he listened while she amended, "Or, better yet, what is it you like to do for fun?"

"I'm afraid I'm an anomaly," Benjamin dismissed. "What I enjoy is not the norm. For every soiree someone hosts, for instance, I'd much rather be trapped indoors reading a good book." He looked her way with a smile. "When I was younger, I enjoyed exploring outdoors -- certainly nothing for a lady such as yourself -- as well as good game of nine pins. If you have a set out here on the grounds, I'm sure I could impress you with my rusty skill-set." He winked. "There would be alcohol involved, of course. I have no prize to offer, so humility is key. Er...not that I'm suggesting we gamble, of course."

[quinnverse]

in honor of pride month im desperate for more wlw ships for my girlies (many of the muses here are bi & pan) so throw all your female/nb muses at them! 🥺

[quinnverse]

“I’d argue to say my actions already are speaking for themselves. I’m here, aren’t I? In a stranger’s library, alone with an unmarried man, and so far from home.” She spoke with the cadence of a child telling spooky story, as though the mere thought of being alone with a man was enough to make her swoon. “If that’s not rebellious and troublesome, I don’t know what is.”

“Gods, you had me concerned for a moment. Most of my peers seem to share that very sentiment, though. Eerily enough, dying for one’s beloved is considered terribly romantic for ladies my age. I never quite understood it. Isn’t living the more romantic option? It’s certainly the more challenging one, that’s for certain.”

Listening to him recite the words made her heart skip a beat. Was she truly becoming so simple and girlish in the span of a single night? If Dunford saw the way she was behaving, he’d tease her until the ends of the earth. If Emma saw the way Belle was acting around John…

Well, she didn’t want to think about it. She knew Emma long enough to know what it would look like when she was upset. True anger, in Dunster fashion, was a silent endeavor. It lurked beneath a lighthearted facade, lingering beneath the surface until it bubbled over like a pot left to boil. She’d seen her cousin laugh and cry, but the latter had only rarely been caused by Belle. And she preferred to keep it that way. But if this courtship truly made any headway, the truth would come out sooner or later.

“I confess I’m not well-versed in poetry. I know some love sonnets, of course, but in comparison to you… Why, I feel a tad inferior.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips twitched upward into a coy smile. It was easy to forget about the outside world while in his presence, and she was determined to cherish it for as long as she could. “Luckily for you, I’m not the sort of woman who is scared to admit as much.”

She took mental notes of the authors he named, filing them away for future reference. When the time for her to return home arrived, she would make sure to read all of his recommendations if not to enlighten herself to the greater worlds of literary works, than to remind her of John. Whatever the outcome of their courtship was, she knew she would miss him dreadfully when it was time to leave.

“Well, what do you consider romantic, then? You don't seem like the sort of gentleman who'd prefer big, dramatic proclamations of love--or at least not to the extent of some men I know. So, if a young lady had intentions to woo you, what course of action would you recommend?”

Belle's coy blunder -- “A suitor, I mean. N-Not a lover, or anything. Not that I would mind having you as a lover!” -- earned a soft, self-conscious little laugh, Benjamin's cheeks all but glowing as he met her gaze within the candlelight. "Well, at least I have your rousing approval?" he teased. "But for the record, I...would never be opposed to anything you have to offer. I am but a bloom, helpless in its quest to seek any scrap of your light."

He winced, knowing full well how if Caleb or Abe were to overhear such drivel, they would immediately harass him. Perhaps it was a good thing he was miles and miles away from Setauket, after all...though in some cases, arguably not nearly enough.

“I think I ought to stop talking now.”

"You and me both," he affirmed, chuckling. "If there is a notable offense for bumbling conversation, I assuredly would've already been paying the toll."

A curious gleam overcame her eyes, and then Belle pressed him about his friends. After she gave him an ominous warning about her own, he grinned and affirmed, "I love how we both have that one friend who will ruin absolutely everything, if given the chance...though unfortunately, instead of one chance at embarrassment, I have three. Anna, not so much, but Caleb and Abe..." He sighed, rubbing a hand over the side of his neck. "Well, let's just say I've been the center of any and all jokes since boyhood. You wouldn't believe the pranks they've played on me over the years."

Though if her own childhood had any say in the matter, perhaps she could...

And as he appraised her bright smile through the flickering shadows, a dip of unease formed in his chest as he wondered if he was saying much, much too much. Belle surely did not know Setauket, nor would she ever be suspicious, but supposed she dropped his friends' names to those who did? How could he have been so bloody stupid?

Belle, unfortunately, seemed quite taken by the idea of acquaintance. “Either way, should I happen to acquaint myself with these friends of yours, I’ll be sure not to let their potential teasing sway my opinion of you, either. Or at least not in a negative light. Though, I'm not sure such a thing could occur."

Benjamin flashed a weakened smile. "Oh, I'm sure they could give you a reason or two..." 721 reasons, perhaps.

Belle's scorn was palpable when she dismissed the idea of needing help in being rebellious, and chuckling, he countered, "'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.' Because surely, your actions would already speak for themselves?" With a simper, he arched a challenging brow, falling into step alongside her as she assessed the shelves.

“What’s the most romantic book you’ve read?" she asked, still failing to meet his gaze. "Perhaps I could study it and take inspiration from the text."

"Oh, Romeo and Juliet, for certain," Benjamin quipped, only to grin before assuring, "I jest. That's no ending I intend to recreate with my beloved."

Beloved... Flushing, he inwardly scolded himself before deflecting, "Ah...perhaps Pamela? I confess that romance isn't my genre of choice, though I do enjoy Shakespearean sonnets and poetry -- like Robert Burns. So in that regard, those are the most romantic... 'O my love is like a red, red rose that's newly sprung in June; O my love is like the melody that's sweetly played in tune.'"

Chewing his cheek, Benjamin nodded toward the tomes and added, "You might prefer Eliza Haywood, or Frances Burney, or Ann Radcliffe...if you haven't already sampled them, of course."

[quinnverse]

Amelia took his arm with a polite nod, ignoring the weight of the stares that followed them. Let them talk, she thought to herself. Let Thomas hear about it. The thought of her fiancé being jealous over such a silly thing was exciting, but Amelia knew that the likelihood of the duke caring at all was low. If anything, he would only see it as another reason not to marry her.

The coolness of the night air washed over her like a wet cloth and she smiled at the relief. It was terribly hard to think surrounded by the dreadful music and the heat only made things worse. With dozens of bodies and twice as many candles burning, being indoors felt akin to being in a furnace. And with all her ruffles and lace, Amelia was more than happy to step out into the fresh air.

"Well," she conceded, raising her chin in defiance. "If you're not going back in, then I won't either. There's not much use staying if the only agreeable person is out here." With a hint of flirtation in her expression, Amelia bit back a smile. It felt nice to be so free and playful around someone, even if they were a stranger. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she allowed her smile to grow wider. "Besides, I don't think anyone would question my leaving early. I'm sure half the heads in there wish they could do the same. Including the ones on stage."

It would be proper for her to stay until the musicale's conclusion. It would be proper for her to stay with a chaperone, or away from male attention altogether. It would be proper to distance herself from an American of a lower status. But Amelia was tired of being proper, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever find an opportunity like this again.

"So, Mister Tallmadge, what is it people do for fun in America?" As she spoke, Amelia slowly plucked the dangling gemstones from her ears, and cradled the peridot earrings in her palm. They were far too bright and flashy in Amelia's opinion, but Elizabeth had given them to her to wear as a good luck charm. Knowing she'd need all the luck she could get at an event like this, she'd added them to her ensemble but now they served little purpose other than giving her a headache. They hadn't done much in way of saving her ears from the dreadful sonatas, anyway, but she couldn't deny that they seemed to have brought a different sort of luck into her life. "Or, better yet, what is it you like to do for fun?"

Benjamin glanced at her, intrigued. "You speak well for someone so young," he observed. Wincing, he quickly amended, "I-I mean, you are clearly intelligent -- I didn't mean to disparage you in any way -- but you almost talk as if you're well-versed in the art of deception. Disappointment, too." He shrugged. "I only experienced such coldness when I was expected to be someone else...when I had to kill the boy inside, and become the reluctant man."

Amelia blinked up at him, offering a disbelieving smile. “Repenting? How pious of you."

"Quite the opposite, actually," Benjamin replied. "I feel a bit self-serving in this regard, too."

Her quip about being a pastor's son earned her a smile, but before he could deflect, she spoke the words he'd long since yearned to hear -- "You deserve happiness as much as anyone else. Do not let anyone--including yourself--convince you otherwise" -- and scarcely able to breathe, he gave a self-conscious little laugh. "Forever is a long time," he agreed, "and most especially when I'm serving my penance here in this music hall."

To his surprise, Amelia rose to her feet and agreed to his offer of escape. "If fresh ears cannot be promised, fresh air is a welcomed compromise."

Unbidden, he grinned, relieved for a bit of a breather from his own internal hells. "There's far too much hot air in here for either," Benjamin agreed, chuckling. Rising to join her, he held out his arm in offering, then led her out to the far less stuffy courtyard. Almost the instant they were outdoors, it felt as if he could breathe again.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to be invited back," he quipped. "I'm sorry to be a poor influence...if you'd like, you can blame me and my 'boorish American sensibilities' -- or lack thereof."

[quinnverse]

“I don’t 'hitch myself' to any side. I thought you’d know that by now.” Her brows pinched together and her lips pursed into a mildly disappointed pout. The expression only lasted a moment before it melted away back into her countenance of indifference.

“Even though I was born here, the majority of my family is in England. It’s not really the country I’m loyal to, it’s the people. I mean, aren’t you loyal to your family? Isn’t it normal to be loyal to one’s blood? Even if you don’t agree with them one hundred percent?" Swallowing hard, she ignored the brightening blush on her cheeks. "If we were married, wouldn't you be loyal to me? Because I'm pretty sure that's one of the main clauses of marriage."

His stumbling of words was endearing, even though it might've been infuriating to her at one point. She liked his honesty, though. The sincerity of their words when it was only the two of them and no third parties to judge them or condemn them for their thoughts. Or that's what Emma believed, at least. Despite their rocky start, Emma believed John Bolton to be an honest man and she trusted him, to a certain extent, to tell her the truth, even if it wasn't the prettiest.

“And do you? Desire me now?” Emma stretched out the syllables of the words, watching him from beneath lowered lashes. He’d said as much already and, even if he hadn’t, his presence in her bed was answer enough. Still, she liked hearing it. It was one thing to flirt and hold affection for another person, but speaking it aloud was something else entirely.

“Hmm… I don't know. Perhaps you only like the thrill of the chase.” Gently, she traced her finger across his lips, trailing down to his chin before retracting her hand back to herself. “Maybe the idea of taming the shrew is more entertaining than the outcome. Then again, you haven't even seen the half of my talents."

“How poetic of you. I like it." She tried to maintain a playful expression, but she melted the moment he began to stroke her cheek. She enjoyed their verbal sparring bouts, but it was becoming increasingly clear to herself that she was falling farther than she'd ever intended. If anything, she thought tonight might end in both of them acting on carnal desires. She never would've expected to make such a deep revelation.

"That's the thing, though. That’s always been my philosophy. I’ve always tried to avoid regrets. I believe that we have one life to live and it would be a tragedy to waste it dwelling on the 'what ifs' instead of reaching for your dreams. But it’s much easier to do when such things don’t involve one’s heart.

Emma let out a sigh, brushing a loose curl out of her face as she continued. "I like pushing boundaries and testing the limits of life as much as the next lass, but… When it comes to love… I don’t know. I guess it scares me. If I fail miserably at running the company, I can always pick up the pieces and try again. I can save up money and learn from my mistakes. I could move to a new city, if necessary, or change my name if worst came to worse. But how could I move on with a broken heart, you know? Sometimes it feels like I only have one chance to do it right—the whole love thing—so I’ve just been holding out for a sign. For the right person to wander in.

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect it to be you.” She teased as she nuzzled into his warmth. “I know my father would prefer it if I married some stuffy duke or baronet instead. I think he secretly wants me to marry an English man to carry on my Mama’s legacy, or something. It would have benefits, I suppose, but I couldn’t imagine it." Her nose crinkled at the thought of permanently joining the ranks of high English society. "My cousin, Belle… Now, she’s made to be a duchess or countess, or what have you. But me?" Emma let out a huff of distaste before glancing at him, desperate for silent reassurance. "Besides, Lady Emma doesn’t really have the same ring to it."

"What, this is the one threat that puts things over the edge for you?" Benjamin asked, sneering back at her. "I'm fairly certain you've already threatened to kill me at least once -- and if not that, then assuredly I've received threats of bodily harm." Amused, he tapped her scrunched nose with his finger. "I'm starting to think you're all talk, madam."

Emma waved him off. "Okay, perhaps its not your malice that I enjoy. But I think there's always a bit of charm to rebellious natures, don't you think?"

Blinking with feigned innocence, Benjamin retorted, "I'm not malicious. I'm a delight -- something I rapidly seem to be convincing you of, as well." Flashing a smug little smile, he nudged his forehead into hers. "And if you're so fond of rebellion, why do you hitch yourself to the loyalist side of things?"

There it was. A tease at the truth, at fishing for what she thought of the war, rather than what her father believed. Although Benjamin admittedly liked and respected Mr. Dunster, he would never be swayed by his allegiance to the Crown.

With his query, the mood faded into a quiet somberness, and he watched with mounting dread as Emma looked away, her brow creasing in thought. “I… I don't know,” she admitted. “To tell the truth, I’m not against marriage as a whole. But the circumstances have to be right. I refuse to feel threatened into a marriage, and I refuse to be hammered down into submission, especially when my family’s business is involved."

Benjamin frowned. "If I desire you now, why would I ever wish for you to be submissive and docile? That would certainly take away the fun of our evenings...and as I think we've already established, I've grown quite fond of that tongue of yours."

Oh... Bloody hell, why couldn't he ever think before he spoke?

Flushing, he quickly amended, "Ah...in terms of your gift of gab, of course."

The concern in Emma's face did not abate, and before long, she was gushing forth doubt after doubt, and his own heart sank as she pressed, "What if you're wrong about it, though? What if I'm not not cut out for married life, and we only made each other miserable?"

Hesitant, he reached up and cupped her cheek, lightly stroking. "The way I see it, this entire world is full of 'what ifs?'" Benjamin softly replied. "And that's what makes it worth living, does it not? The adventure, and the prospect of what could be? Life is only what you make of it -- and I believe the same applies to love. And Emma, I would never put anything less than my all into my affections for you."

It baffled him that he didn't feel any deceit as he spoke -- no, he was painfully truthful; arguably, it was the first time he'd proclaimed the truth in a long, long time.

[quinnverse]

send  “OBSERVE”for a mini-drabble of how MY MUSE sees and/or thinks about YOUR MUSE while they do something completely ordinary. This can be them reading, cooking, sleeping, just ordinary moments the often get glossed over in threads and roleplays. Feel free to specify what your muse is doing if you want to!

make sure to specify the muse for multimuses!

[quinnverse]

"Gods, no, thankfully. But we did have a loose wheel that almost prematurely cancelled our entire evening." And their lives, she thought to herself. She stifled a laugh behind a gloved hand at the thought of either of her brothers holding the reigns. Turner was always too deep into his cup to drive a carriage properly. And although she wouldn't put it past her twin brother to find a way to steal a carriage for laughs, Winston had spent most of the ride, along with Olivia, being lectured on proper manners.

Olivia had rolled her eyes and nodded along with each reminder. Stand up straight, don't smile with teeth, always appear engaged in conversation. It was ridiculous to Olivia. She wasn't a child. She had been out in society for long enough to know the basics of how to get along, but, still, she found her mother's constant reassurance endearing... to a certain extent.

His offer of a dance caught her by surprise and it took her a long moment to form a response. She had hardly expected him to play along in her charade of previous acquaintances, so the thought that he might entertain the idea farther than he needed to hadn't seemed like an option. But it was a good one.

If the Baron saw her dancing with him, he would surely leave her alone, at least for a song or two. Enough time for her to find an excuse or make a proper getaway. And likewise, if her mother saw her on the dancefloor with a handsome young man, perhaps Olivia would escape the night without poking and prodding from an overly eager mama. As long as her elder brother didn't spot the pair dancing, it was a foolproof plan.

"Of course, I'd be delighted."

“Well, I am glad you have arrived in one piece and safely,” he said, swaying on his feet a little closer as if they truly were old friends simply catching up. His smile was genuine and he even laughed softly, his hand still resting against the smooth material of his jacket. “I hope you did not allow your brothers to drive the carriage, did you?” His brow arched and he shook his head as if he were imagining these, real or not, brothers of hers driving a carriage with unruly methods.

Leroy’s eyes snapped up to meet hers before they trailed over to where she'd indicated making it seem he was simply glancing over the refreshments table rather than spotting the old man who had caused Lady Olivia's impromptu interaction with him. Licking his lips Leroy smirked and dipped his head just so the Baron could not read Leroy’s lips, if he were to possess such a skill. He lowered his voice just as she had done but there was the slightest hint of suggestibility in his tone. 

“If you wish, my lady, we could share a dance and lose the old man completely for the evening,” he said, stepping back and dipping in a slight bow as he offered her his free hand after discarding his glass, his other hand still pressed against his abdomen in an elegant and gentlemanly display of him asking her to dance.

[quinnverse]

"No, no, I admire your candor. Truly. Not enough people are as honest as you are." Myself included, she thought to herself.

Iris had learned from a young age that high society was filled with pretenses. Compliments were paid when the intention was to insult or humiliate. Smiles were offered in place of glares and snarls. Invitations and even courtship proposals were made, on occasion, purely to embarrass someone.

“Admittedly, no, I do not feel entirely lucky in this exact moment.” She let out a laugh, nervous and breathy as she clung to him for support. At the mention of onlookers, Iris straightened her posture and tried to wear an air of respectability, despite the way her knees wobbled and her heart skipped a beat. “Their ridicule would be child’s play compared to my siblings. If my sisters saw me here stomping all over your toes, I’d never hear the end of it."

She was, after all, the runt of the litter. The shining Marigold was the eldest and perfect, the golden child, the first one married, and the one that could never do any wrong in their parents' eyes. The ever-radiant Lavender had always been the type to excel at anything she tried, in a way that always made Iris's inferiority complex harden into marble over the years. The effervescent Rose was just as clunky as Iris when it came to rhythm, but she somehow managed to carry herself in a way that radiated effortless elegance--something Iris clearly did not have. Even the younger Daisy, with her high energy and higher standards, was a better dancer than Iris. They had taken dance lessons at the same time, from the same tutor, and yet the results had been so incredibly different, only cementing the fact in her mind that she was the weakest link.

But despite her embarrassment and self-pitying, she was happy. It was a strange feeling she hadn't felt in a very long time. Not since she debuted, at least. But here, on the dancefloor with Noel, she was content. Out of place and out of step, surely, but surprisingly at ease. The spotlight was a place that Iris was destined to fail, yet he kept her upright, both physically and emotionally. The realization came as a surprise to her, rattling her composure and sending the heat in her cheeks spreading across her body. Would her husband ever have this sort of effect on her? She couldn't imagine his brother ever touching her so gently, being so tender and caring. She couldn't imagine anyone every being so kind towards her, not without a hidden agenda.

The feeling of his hand on her waist sent an electric wave throughout her limbs, setting her skin alight with a pink hue. Perhaps it was inappropriate to be here with him, but Iris couldn't bring herself to pull away from him. Not yet.

“I can handle far more than one would expect.” She narrowed her eyes and paired it with a daring smile. The idea of bringing attention to herself was normally a terrifying prospect. She preferred to blend into the shadows, to disappear along with the scenery, but with Noel she didn't feel as inadequate as she normally did. With Noel at her side, she felt almost untouchable, unshakeable and unbreakable. “As long as you promise not to drop me." She added in a lower tone. "Because I don't think either of us would survive that level of embarrassment.”

Her promise of togetherness is music to his ears, drowning out the reverie of violins and cellos commanding a waltz. Since meeting Iris, she's become the noise that filled Noel's ears. Her laughter, her quips, even her weighted silences. Noel hears it all, and then some. A dark beet hue coloring his cheeks, because he hears himself too. Walking that line between a friend, and a man pining for his brother's intended... And failing miserably.

"Forgive me." Noel clears his throat, getting ahead of the embarrassment. Later that night, he'll curse and fuss about his loose lips. "I speak too... Candidly." Everything between himself and his future, sister-in-law is an exercise in honesty. It has been since the moment they were first left alone. Standing in the open field of the Chatunga's family estate, waiting for his brother to return from a hunt. Five minutes into their conversation, so true without ever being scandalous, and Noel knew her to be the real deal. And so, he endeavors to be honest.

As honest as a man can be, when he harbors such a love for a woman that could never be his.

"Do you feel lucky now?" Now that Iris is trying, and admittedly failing, at keeping to the tune. He's not his brother on the dance floor, either. Lacking in innate rhythm or charm, but Noel tried hard at everything. Accomplished only by sheer work ethic, he grasps Iris' waist to keep from her dipping sideways. "Do not let the big-haired cohort hear you--" He's referring to the Queen Bee's of high society, with their lavish hairstyles and critical glances. A compliment to his brother's own brigade of muscled, boisterous lords. "You are simply getting your footing."

He takes measured steps to make it look effortless. Switching the movement to something more freeing and relaxed. A way to conceal their discomfort, and boast some confidence. "I am with you. I despise all the fuss and attention. But, you're doing well." An encouraging squeeze against her waist, goosebumps down his arm when he touches her warmth. "Should I lift you, too? Can you handle it?" It's a tease, and the young lord doesn't catch the flirtatious intonation in his voice.

[quinnverse]

𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒, 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from difference media about age gap and age difference relationships, all acceptable relationships within consenting adults with age differences. Please do not use for teenagers or taboo relationships. These have some foul language or suggestive undertones so please beware. You can change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that boy of yours, does it?

You’ll never know when I’m going to drag you into the darkness, pumping my cock into one of your tight holes. And you’ll take every inch like a good little girl.

What a tiny life we’d live if we fashioned ourselves to the comforts of others.

I think I'm a little old for that, love.

No, not old. But you're, you know, a man.

Tell me that you've never had anyone else. I want you to pretend.

You show me things I've forgotten.

Sometimes I think you must have seen it all before. That I can't show you anything new.

I like you as you are, he said. Even if you're going to wear me out.

I’m rough with your body sometimes, but I’ll always be gentle with your soul. She bruises far more easily.

This prince is a few years younger than you, and does not have much experience.

I must have forgotten how young you would be, Princess. Has there ever been a sovereign of such tender age?

Who is to say what love is or what it wants to be, the shape it takes, or how quickly it comes on? Love has always made a fool of time.

I don’t feel old. As a matter of fact, sitting here with you makes me feel older, not younger. Nothing is rubbing off.

Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched.

He's old enough to be your father.

Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.

But she wants you. And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.

Age is no barrier. It's a limitation you put on your mind.

Age considers; youth ventures.

Age, like distance lends a double charm. 

I'm a strong believer that a good relationship can work, whatever the situation. 

Love knows no boundaries, not even the ones defined by age.

Don’t let society’s judgment define your love. Follow your heart, despite the age difference.

Most people would be upset they get an old man as their husband.  

Do not worry about your age, Ser. The lady pays attention not to age but prowess.

I will not let time choose my lovers for me. I trust my own judgement. 

You should look to more prosperous gardens, Your Grace.

I was sixteen years old when you were born.

No doubt you were much my superior in judgement at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?

Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends, and say no more about it. 

I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial old friend.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

We spend more time discussing this matter than being together as a couple. And I believe you are doing it on purpose.

You think my attention is as fickle that I would look elsewhere.

Perhaps it would be you who looks elsewhere. A handsome older man must have youthful maidens at his disposal.

If we were closer in age, it would've been fine.

I have loved you since the moment I helped you with your zipper. 

Would it make you feel better if I call you Daddy while you fuck me?

You’ll be a silver fox before 40 at this rate.

Well, it’s definitely your fault. You stress me out. You’re making my hair turn white.

It’s easy to cast opinions when your heart isn’t the one invested.

I hope you love me, because I love you like crazy, and I'm going to want you the rest of my life.

You already know the truth. And I will be by your side, but I am not good for you.

I am tired of others getting to choose who is good for me. You do that quite often, frequently. 

You'll keep your name. You'll keep your will. You'll have your own servants to attend you— you will have everything you ask for.

Don't ask me to let you do. Do you understand? Do not ask me.

It might be best for us, for myself, if I found myself useful elsewhere.

I wish you could just slow down so I could catch up to you.

Stamina is not an issue. But rather what others will whisper.

When are you going to get over this? All I did was touch your leg.

Why would it matter if someone saw you saying hello to me?

But it’s nice to be around you. Like I haven’t lost a decade of my life.

I been in love with you since I was six, fool. 

I will always belong to you, but I’m afraid there will be others after me. I’m not a young man/woman.

A kiss ... a muse. It is a question, an unlocked door. It is ... elation ... and anguish.

You have treated me better than any young man my age. Why should I go for either of them? 

Young men are eager lovers. I prefer my lovers to take their time. I’m sure with men is the same.

You make me feel really safe. i’m not used to that.

You gave an old man purpose again. And that is more than I can ask of you.

I was a child then, with a crush and a dream. As I grew, dreams changed but you remain the one in my dreams.

I have thought about kissing you a lot. What would that make me?

I have more in common with you than men my age.

Do not pretend to think what I think.

More recently, there are rumors she prefers her lovers to be younger. Truth to be told, I don’t blame her.

I will teach you in time, but for now restrain me and have your way with me. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

We have never done anything to be ashamed of. You’ve never done anything to be ashamed of.

Personally, I think the difference keeps us interesting in another another. 

You can teach me all you wish, and I can learn. I know I can.

There is always a wild side to an innocent face.

You are being too forward right now, my lady. Be careful.

There would be other loves. Even great loves. But she was right, only one remained perfect.

Maybe there are some people you marry and people you love.

Just so you know, you're a natural lover. Your body expresses beautifully what's in your heart.

I have never felt so alive... as when I am in your arms.

A 5 to 7 relationship is a relationship outside of marriage.

You're older than I am, you're wiser I'm sure and you've seen much more of the world.

[quinnverse]

“So they are.” Her own family, included, she thought to herself. It didn't matter how many governesses her family employed, or how fancy their credentials. Some things couldn't be taught; some people would remain foolish forever. Finding someone of similar intellect in the sea of strangers had been a miracle, and one that she feared may never happen again, were something to come between the two of them.

Without you, I am alone.

Such a simple phrase, so easily spoken, and yet it threatened to shatter Iris’s heart into two. No matter what happened, she would make sure she never allowed him to forget how special he was. He had saved her in more ways than one and she could only hope that their friendship brought as much peace to him as it had brought to her.

It was unfair to say she would be alone without him, but it often felt like the truth. She had her sisters and her cousins with whom she was incredibly close, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as having someone that knew you inside and out, that admired you for all your quirks and flaws and chose to be friends with you, not by contract of familial obligation.

“Then, let’s be alone together.” Raising her chin, she beamed and straightened her posture. If they were to be outcasts, then at least they would have each other in the shadows. She didn't dare to wonder how their friendship might change once Iris finally became the Countess. Whether the union would build or break their bond was unknown, but Iris hoped it would be able to withstand the struggles that had yet to come.

And while it was unknown whether the two of them would’ve even grown as close as they did without her engagement to his brother, Iris was still grateful for his presence. If this marriage meant tears and loneliness for an eternity, at least it had brought in the shining beacon that was Noel. If she had nothing else in the world, at least she had him.

His future wife would be a very lucky woman, indeed. As if mirroring her own thoughts aloud, his words caught her off guard. Iris blinked, struggling to find the proper words to say. Thanking him for the compliment would seem haughty. Not thanking him, though, would be rude. Ignoring it completely would only make this awkward, but being candid about her thoughts would only lead to trouble.

“I'm not sure there's a soul in the world who would agree with you.” She smiled, narrowing her eyes in playful defiance. If anything, Iris was the lucky one in the situation. Being married into an Earldom, having the promise of a safe and secure marriage. Even when it came to her friendship with Noel, she was the lucky one. She had always existed on the fringes of society. Never the prettiest in the room, or the smartest, or the most talented. But when Noel looked at her, she felt like she might be.

"I feel very lucky." Her voice was feather soft, unable to meet his gaze as she spoke. On the outside, she hoped it seemed as though she were saying she were lucky to be engaged, to have prospects, to be wanted in any way. But, on the inside, Iris felt differently. She felt lucky to be here, in this moment, hand-in-hand with a kind and handsome gentleman, and one that she was fortunate enough to call a friend.

As the dance carried on, Iris fought to keep her thoughts in check. She couldn't allow her mind to wander outside this room, to wonder what was waiting for her on the other side of the walls. In maintaining her focus, Iris hadn't realized her gaze had lowered to his lips, studying their hue with idle admiration.

With her hand in his and the music flowing around them, it was easy for Iris to imagine that she were dancing with her fiancé, that Noel was her intended instead of his less-deserving brother. Perhaps it was a dangerous fantasy to indulge in, but if her life was to be dictated for her, she at least had free range over her imagination.

In her reverie, Iris missed a step and she felt the light weight of her slipper press against his foot. The minor collision of bodies yanked her back into the moment, but her mind had always began to come unraveled. Despite her efforts to correct herself, Iris missed one, two, three more steps until her skirts felt as though they were twisted around her legs like seaweed. Her cheeks burned hot with shame, fearful that the other attendees might see her folly and cast judgement upon them both. Her fingers tightened their grip on him and, swallowing hard, Iris flushed red with embarrassment.

"Gods," She muttered beneath her breath, loud enough that he would hear her. "I feel like a newborn foal, using my legs for the first time. I swear, I have danced before." Iris shielded her shame with a nervous laugh and a self deprecating comment, hoping it would be enough to distract him from her fumble. "Perhaps this is further proof that I am better off as a wallflower."

"Most people are fools." He answers, no-nonsense and uncompromising. It's been his opinion since Noel could soon form one. Society is consumed with what's pretty and amenable; like his brother's charms or Iris' sisters beauty. Always minimizing things that are less-than-perfect. Awkward, misplaced, or even odd. High society cuts it out, shredding them of unique thought and independence. But when Noel saw her, nay, when first spoke with Iris... He finally found someone with their own stripes and moods.

"I--" He's at a loss for words. Iris' velveteen words warm his soul in ways it shouldn't. Because she's his brother's intended. The future Countess of the household. Heavens, why couldn't he be braver? Why did he linger at the perimeter, admiring from afar what his brother simply pursued? Noel can't get lost in his thoughts for too long, because her bright eyes are staring back at him. "You needn't say a thing." He clears his throat, eyes soft and cheeks pink. Iris does more for him in that moment than a lifetime of those in pursuit of the second-in-line to the Earldom.

"I am your friend, most ardently. And you... You have done the impossible and have me dancing at a ball!" He exclaims, as loud as Noel would given his natural reservation. "Without you, I am alone." Waiting in the sidelines, longing for stimulating conversation. Funny how his brother never searches for her, yet Noel doesn't stop until she's found. It's as poetic as it is tragic, and luckily the distraction of the dance keeps them occupied.

"Always. Any day or night." Noel stops here. Should stop there. But in the midst of the violin playing and him guiding her lithe figure through the movements, he continues; "You have become my closest companion." Inhaling sharply, he looks at her fine features with longing in his eyes. "My brother is the luckiest man, Iris. The luckiest."