#[Lady Adelia Lennox]

[shelbysdevil]

(💔) My muse help washes blood off your muse. (Adelia)

Moonlight aesthetic starters from here @mettleborn

Tommy still cussed as Adelia pressed the cloth lightly against his nose again which continued bleeding. The last hit of the fucking asshole who laid his hands on her still burning on his skin. “I just couldn’t stand his attitude.” he mumbled with his eyes squinting under the pain, even if she tried to be as soft as possible. Of course he had knocked him off right as he noticed the hand sliding down her back and luckily her husband hadn’t accompanied her tonight so it was his right to protect her, wasn’t it? “My apologies, did I ruin your dress Lady Lennox?” With a gentle grip of her hand he took the cloth from her to press it against his nose himself, but his eyes wandered along her chest and down to her hips before he forced himself to stop it to not drift into other thoughts. No, he had to focus. To calm his thoughts that were still running from the rage in his veins. “You shouldn’t have come alone.” For many reasons. Especially if she knew that Tommy would be present. Or was her single presence on purpose cause of that?

“Why… why did you even come alone?” Slowly the blood dried so he could sank his hand, his back still rested against the table in the guest room they went to for escaping the scenery. “I assume that with your husbands presence this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe we’re both fools for thinking this could work.” And what exactly did he talk about? Did he mean them and their forbidden connection, or was he talking about events like these where they both attended? Tommy placed the cloth on the table to take a deep breath, his hand reaching for her face that was lowered as if she was still avoiding his sight. “Hey… look at me. It’s alright. I’m alright. I can’t say the same for him but…I just…” Without even noticing it he stood straight up to get closer, licking his thumb to stripe it along her cheek where he must have left a drop of blood from him. “I just can’t stand watching anyone touching you. No one besides me.” It was a soft way he spoke in, his voice low as he leaned his head against hers, nuzzling to the side of her to kiss her temple. “But I would do it again. Hell we’re lucky it wasn’t your husband touching you like that, how would that have looked if I punched him for that?” A joke. It must have been a joke to light up the mood cause they both knew he couldn’t just go against her husband like that, but the truth was his rage and jealousy had bottled up so strongly over the time, that he couldn’t guarantee he wasn’t the next to meet his fist. Or his gun. They were lucky indeed. At least tonight.

[mettleborn-a]

Semi-plotted starter for @shelbysdevil​

It is difficult to fully comprehend it; how much her life changed because of the war and in turn, how much it has changed since it ended. Right up until her Father, the Duke of Dumfries, had been called to London by King George V to act as a royal advisor for the military, Lady Adelia Lennox had lived a typical aristocratic existence; as a socialite, with little to concern her beyond sourcing dresses from the best Parisian designers and turning down the advances of titled suitors that might wish her to abandon such a carefree life to become a dutiful wife and mother. With the declaration of war in 1914, came a new chapter in her life, her family home; Drumlanrig, in Dumfries, soon re-purposed for the war effort - the castle and grounds serving as a military hospital, base and transit centre. It is here, at the age of 18, she worked as a nurse, tending to the wounded and studying medical journals in an attempt to educate herself better in such an undertaking, until it was declared that the war had ended in 1918.

With the soldiers gone, Drumlanrig was no longer a hospital, but it did not feel like a home anymore either; it felt empty now and haunted by all the souls that shuffled off this mortal coil while cared for inside it’s halls, calling for their loved ones, crying for their mothers. Finding herself simply unable to stay there without frequently recalling the traumas of war time, Adelia spent a few months in London, taking up the offer of further training at St Thomas’ hospital before, at the age of 23, accepting a senior nursing position at the General Hospital in Birmingham.

Whilst most of the young nurses in Birmingham lived together in the inner city, packed into dorms or renting cheap rooms from a land lady, Lady Lennox’s Father, supportive of her benevolent endeavours, purchased for her, a townhouse, situated in the wealthy suburb of Edgbaston; an affluent, leafy area, free of warehouses and factories. While the house and its gardens were undeniably beautiful and Adelia often had the company of her housemaid and gardener, it was still an isolated existence, such isolation meaning that she would often stay out late, visiting the nurses she worked with in the city and spending time in their dorms after her shifts.

At first when the suggestion is made to head to one of the nearby public houses, in an industrial area of the city known to be particularly impoverished, Adelia declines, aware that her father would never approve and feeling decidedly ill-dressed in her nurse’s uniform. With persuasion from her friends however and the promise of a little freedom and much needed fun, she finally acquiesces and borrows some clothing from her friend Caitlin; a little white blouse, a pencil skirt and brown cardigan. Such drab attire does a good job disguising her affluence but still can’t take away from her obvious beauty and good breeding, which are only emphasised by her accent; which is quite clearly upper class. She worries she may be seen as an outsider, until she has had several gins, which, unsurprisingly, ensure she has no worries left at all. Indeed, she is fairly tipsy, when a large contingent of the girls leave and she is left to nurse a cigarette at the bar with her friend Caitlin.

As she waits to catch the barmaid’s attention, to order two more glasses of gin, Adelia’s attention is caught by a group of men entering The Garrison, all dressed in suits and flat caps, all seemingly a little riled up. While the majority move to a private area at the front of the bar by the window to speak in hushed tones, another moves forward to order drinks; a man with mesmeric blue eyes, one who undeniably carries with him an air of danger and importance. Hastily she looks away before running the risk that he might catch her staring. 

[mettleborn-a]

Cell / Mobile Phone Headcanons Meme

@dontcxckitup​ said:  “#” 

Send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses.

Your muse’s name in Adelia’s phone: M Daddy (sorry not sorry XD))

Your muse’s picture in Adelia’s phone:

It’s the suspenders, she has a thing for them. 

Your muse’s ringtone in Adelia’s phone: Lana del Ray: You can be the boss. 

(I’m...I have no words, this is hilarious to me, so unprofessional hahah!)

Adelia’s last text to your muse: :

[Adelia] It’s nearly midnight M and the light is still on in your office. Go home, get some dinner, get laid, get some sleep, get something before you work yourself into an early grave, old man. 

[mettleborn-a]

​Adelia’s visit to Small Health had been brief, only long enough to share a few cigarettes with Tommy, followed by a quick and rough liaison in the back room, pressed up against a wall, to sate the need she had felt for his company and his cock whilst lying alone in her bed all night. He’s thoughtful today, especially afterwards, more tender too and whilst she isn’t wholly sure what’s occupying his mind; it’s obvious it’s business, something to do with the Irish she imagines, given how many of them she has seen come and go these past few weeks whenever visiting the Garrison. Whatever it is, it’s Tommy’s business and she tells him so, assuring him she’ll visit again in a few days’ time, when the worst of it is over.

It is dark by the time she leaves to find her car, parked only a street away, though to her surprise, she finds her driver standing on the pavement, smoking a cigarette. In truth, he looks a little rattled.

“Someone to see you.” He comments coldly, pointing towards the large figure sat in the driver’s seat. Venturing closer, the man; who has a harsh face and a thick greying moustache, presses his Police badge against the window before beckoning her inside with a flick of his wrist. She makes quick note of the name: Chief Inspector Chester Campbell.

Seating herself next to him, Adelia sits silently with her hands in her lap as she looks over towards him, studying him, in an attempt to gauge his purpose here.

“Lady Lennox…” He begins in a thick Northern Irish accent, the words alone enough to confirm to her that this isn’t a social call “…or would you prefer I call you Delia?” He asks tauntingly, before reaching to take her hand. Instantly she tries to pull away, but his grasp only tightens until she’s forced to accept the tryst.

“…this is no place for a woman of your stature.” He asserts, with a passive aggressive stare, that rakes shamefully over every inch of her body.

“I go where I please, with whom I please.” She protests, finally freeing her hand from him, which is now red and slightly sore from his tight grip.  

“With whom…” Campbell chuckles darkly with a knowing glance. “You’ll leave for London tonight, your house has been packed and new accommodations have been arranged for you.”

As she moves to speak, he silences her by forcing a rigid finger against her lips, one that reeks of pipe smoke.  

“Your Father is pleased to hear of your new position at St Thomas’ Hospital in London, it’s a prestigious appointment on the board, in a charitable capacity, much more befittin’ for a member of the aristocracy.”

“I’m not leaving Birmingham!”

“Yes, Lady Lennox you are, right now in fact and you won’t be returnin’…”

As Adelia attempts to open the car door, the Chief Inspector reaches for the handle and forcefully pulls it shut, only narrowing avoiding trapping her fingers.

“You will not return to Birmingham and you will not contact Mr Thomas Shelby again, in any manner. If you do, I’ll be forced to contact your Father, the Duke of Dumfries and inform him of your relationship with a scum-bag criminal, a gangster, gun runner and, my dear, a murderer.”

To hear it spoken aloud, so brazenly and bare is a shock; to watch her secrets spill from his mouth with such obvious ire, his gaze filled with disgusted derision at her actions.

“Your Father is a powerful man Lady Lennox, I’m sure he would have ways of dealin’ with your shameful indiscretions, should he be made aware of them.” As his hand moves to sit on top of her knee, Adelia feels her stomach lurch, not only because of his crude, unwelcomed touch, but because she knows, deep in her heart, that he is right. Her Father would wish to bury this and in doing so, she’d likely be left to bury Thomas. Just as she feels he might attempt to slide his hand up her thigh, he refrains, instead moving out of the car entirely as two other men approach, with similar accents.

“These men will take you to London. I trust we will not have cause to see one another again.”

Before she can utter another word, she is taken roughly by the arm and forced out of the passenger’s seat into the rear of the car. As the driver takes position, another man sits himself down beside her, there is a gun in his hand and the sight of it is enough to force her to quietly comply. Hastily the car pulls out of the street with a screech. Turning, Adelia only has time to see Small Health quickly disappear into this distance as the street lamps begin to blur through her tears.

@shelbysdevil​

[mettleborn-a]

@pupil-of-law is currently assaulting me with terrible German names for Sebastian and Adelia’s future progeny - the daughter they could potentially have, in some far off distant verse, if one doesn’t kill the other first. 

 Engelbertha... Wendlesora... Gerhardina...

HOW DARE 

[mettleborn-a]

Cell / Mobile Phone Headcanons Meme

@warrioroflondonbelow​ said:  “#” (for Adelia in our Bond verse bc/ something tells me she has Richard’s number in her phone 😂)

Send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses.

Your muse’s name in Adelia’s phone: Good Dog

Your muse’s picture in Adelia’s phone:

Your muse’s ringtone in Adelia’s phone: Good Dog - Tall Guy Short Songs (I’m crying HAHAH!)

Adelia’s last text to your muse:

[Adelia] The girl that just bought you a drink, has accepted a contract on your life 9. She’s pretty, but I’m in room 109 upstairs, and prettier, and far less likely to kill you, though of course, the risk of possible fatality remains.

[mettleborn-a]

Another kiss prompt

@warrioroflondonbelow​ said: playful kiss to make the other stop rambling - (for Adelia in our WWI verse ✨)

They had run from the barn like a couple of teenagers, having clearly angered a local farmer after spooking his sheep by climbing up into the rafters, to wait out the storm. It had not been Adelia’s intention to end up kissing Richard whilst lying in a warm bed of hay, but regardless, the land owner had clearly not taken kindly to it and had chased them off with a pitchfork, assuming them to be a couple of troublemakers.  

They are still running, even now, barely pausing for breath as the rain lashes down, water soaking into their shoes, mud splattering up their ankles. All the while Adelia talking breathlessly, incessantly.

“Did you see his face? So red, beet red in fact, I thought he was going to have a heart attack and that fork, my goodness, what was he going to do with it I wonder, skewer you? Can you imagine if he’d realised who he was threatening? My Father owns this field and look at it, it isn’t fit to grow anything…look at the state of my shoes…I should go right back there and…”

She stops abruptly as Richard takes her hand and gently pulls her close, those desperately blue eyes now commanding every ounce of her attention, as the downpour continues.

“Shhh…” He beckons softly with a smile, his lips moving to softly kiss her own, caring not that their faces are now drenched in rain, though when his warm hands grip her waist and his kiss becomes possessively intense, Adelia finds she no longer notices the rain at all.  

[mettleborn-a]

@toprotectandscrve​ said: 

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way. Luckily, I'm rather easy to please.” (Walter for Adelia)

“Funnily enough, I have heard the exact opposite said of me.” Adelia laughs lightly before giving her horse a nudge, encouraging it to keep pace with Walter.

“I would not wish however to be perfectly happy, for what of the happiness to be found in life’s imperfections, Walter?”

Glancing over at him, she offers him a playful smile. “For example, the slight nick below your ear where you clearly cut yourself shaving this morning; a bright display of your humanity and your mortality…I must admit I find it quite endearing; that little imperfection, the one that tells me your razor would be better placed in my hands.”

[mettleborn-a]

((So often when I spontaneously create NPCs for a verse or simply even a scene, they start to grow in my mind and soon find themselves at risk of becoming a fully fledged muse for my roster. On this rare occasion, it’s a character for my 19th Century verse with William and I’ve just realised that if I did choose to develop her, she would be my first female muse!))

[mettleborn-a]

@sunbentsky​ said: 

 “I would always rather be happy than dignified.” (from Kaska to Adelia)

“You speak as if the two things are diametrically opposed.” Adelia responds with a smile as she takes a light draw of her freshly lit cigarette. Briefly glancing back, she fusses with the thick box pleats at the back of her dress, attempting to form them into better order.

“Does it not depend on the precise nature of the indignity? After all, there is shame which is felt and there is shame which is endured, the latter is something that is forced upon us, yet in the former there is pleasure to be found, and isn’t that pleasure a form of happiness Kaska?”

[mettleborn-a]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS,  LOVERS TO ENEMIES AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN

@shelbysdevil​ said: “  we could have had a future,  you know.  i wanted to do this with you.  but you ruined it.  ”  (for Adelia)

“Lady Adelia Lennox, may I introduce you to Mr Thomas Shelby.” Her Brother-in-law’s polite and unexpected words had caused Adelia’s stomach to instantly lurch and as she’d turned to inspect whether it was merely a case of mistaken identity; the simple case of a man with a similar name; the truth of it, was not something she was prepared for at all...Tommy; Tommy Shelby, alive and well and standing in the middle of her ballroom. Instantly all the colour had drained from her face and she had been forced to excuse herself, claiming to have fallen suddenly ill. Immediately she had been accompanied to the dayroom by two servants, who had deposited her in a chair whilst the rest of her husband’s guests continued their revelry in the grand halls of her home. After waving her husband Henry away, insisting that she merely needed a quiet moment alone, Adelia had sat, staring out of the window, attempting to compose herself and stop the tears now threatening to fall.

Several years have passed since she was threatened and practically abducted by Major Campbell, forced to leave for London and vanish from Birmingham that very night, without leaving a trace. Tommy had only ever known her as a nurse named ‘Delia’ and so it had not been difficult for Chester Campbell to hide her whereabouts. The threat of incurring her father’s wrath had been compounded by the threat to kill Tommy if she had ever ventured near him again and so, painfully, reluctantly, she had complied. Even now, Inspector Campbell sends her correspondence, letters that sternly instruct her to keep her distance and contain details of the crimes the Major has judged Shelby to have committed, the seriousness of which had been enough to keep her silence. She has tried to move on with her life, has even married, but Tommy has never been far from her mind.

The minute he steps in the room, everything around him vanishes into obscurity; there is only Tommy; there was only ever, Tommy.

“I ruined it?” Her words are spoken with hushed anger, knowing that outside the dayroom her husband and his friends are likely standing, sharing jokes and cigars. Why does it make her feel shameful, dirty even to have him see her framed by such obvious privilege and opulence? Her title, her family name, wealth and standing in society; these are things she never shared with him, not because she wished to keep them secret but because, with Tommy, none of that ever seemed to matter.

“You really think this was my choice? You think I wanted to leave Birmingham…Major Campbell threatened to kill you, what choice did I have?”

Guilty, that is how she feels, she should have defied Campbell, should have made an attempt to, at the very least. “I never wanted to hurt you.” A future…could they really have had a future together? They are so different, even now. If Tommy was invited here, it was likely only so someone could use him to their advantage, or make a corrupt bargain with him. People may think Shelby a devil, but it is the aristocracy that are capable of dealing out the very worst cruelties without so much as batting an eye.

“I don’t love him.” The words are blurted, spoken coldly and in truth it is the first time she’s uttered them, or even truly admitted it to herself, but somehow she feels she needs to tell him, that he needs to hear it. “I’m the daughter of a Duke, Thomas, I don’t get to marry for love.”

[mettleborn-a]

Continued from x

@dontcxckitup​ said: 

 His gaze shoots over to Adelia, eyes wide but firm, unwavering. All hell has broken loose, and they are right in the middle of it, crouched down behind a wall with bullets flying past them, one after the other. He realises it can only get worse – he doesn’t even have a gun – but not yet hopeless. She doesn’t know his background, does she? “Don’t be stupid.” Years with the SAS, trained and skilled, knowing his way around. There is a reason he left in the rank of a Lieutenant Colonel, after all. “Not one British agent is dying today. Give me a gun.” And surely she has a spare one.

She hates the way he speaks to her; like a chastising Father, the kind that withholds their affection as a means of control; always disappointed, always unimpressed. Upon receiving his order, she glances down at her Walther PP9 and makes a quick decision to keep it. Shifting her hand up her skirt, the weapon clad to her thigh is released from its leather holster, the metal warm from being pressed so tightly against her skin. The Diamondback 9mm is comically small, though it does hold a full magazine and when she hands it to M, pressing it into his palm, she can’t help but release a gentle little laugh as she realises how ridiculous it looks in his large hand. She knows her overly-casual attitude is a constant source of frustration for him, but she fights best when she is relaxed, when the frantic beat of her heart is slowed and she detaches from herself completely to become the weapon she was trained to be, not by M, but by men very much like him, men who simply have polar opposite ideals. 

“After you, old man.”

[mettleborn-a]

Plotted starter for @ericbrandonrp​

This is no longer the home Adelia grew up in; the paintings have all been removed, leaving behind angular impressions on the wall; strangely spectral marks that denote their decades old positioning. Bare walls now feature where exquisite tapestries were once hung and all the family’s rugs, antiques and finery have all been removed, packed safely into storage and kept under lock and key. Most of the furnishings, save for those in Adelia’s room, have been shifted into corners and hidden under ghostly shrouds; sheets that seem to shiver and dance whenever the slightest breeze passes. Where once the grand hall of the castle carried only the homely scents of old oak, hearty cooking and her father’s cigar smoke, it now reeks only of disinfectant, blood and the sweat of exhausted men.

Mere days before Britain declared war on Germany, Adelia’s Father, the Duke of Dumfries, a former Colonel in the Royal Regiment of Foot, had been called to London by King George V to act as a royal advisor. Adelia’s Mother, bereft over the situation in Europe had insisted on travelling with him, in the hope that her presence might provide the influence required to ensure successful extraction of Adelia’s grandparents from Belgium.

Upon her father’s request, Adelia had agreed to stay at Drumlanrig, to oversee its transformation; like so many of Britain’s castles and stately homes, it had been decreed Drumlanrig would be re-purposed for the war effort; the castle and its expansive grounds serving as a military hospital, base and training camp, with plans to establish a recruitment and transit centre.

It has been less than two weeks since the soldiers started to arrive and already Adelia has had to watch eight young men die. She has comforted them all in their final moments, attempting to make them as comfortable as possible, while agreeing to inform their loved ones of their bravery. Only yesterday morning, she travelled to the post office to send a sad array of wedding rings, photographs, medals and watches to loved ones, each accompanied by penned notes, as agreed at the bedsides of those in her care.

Lady Lennox has no medical training to speak of besides what knowledge the other nurses and military doctors have passed onto her these past two weeks. Regardless, as an intelligent and resilient woman she has taken up the position of nurse within the complement now present at Drumlanrig, at least until someone more qualified arrives. In the past week she has spent her evenings studying medical books and journals in an attempt to further qualify herself, though at times she finds herself too exhausted and worried to concentrate and so instead simply chooses to drink her sorrows away.

Six am and this morning, like every morning since the arrival of the military, she awakes to the noise of bagpipes. In truth, it is a sound she has only previously associated with celebration and moments of occasion, though now it has come to take on another meaning entirely. Now it is a wake-up call; a call to arms and a sign that the men will soon be rousing in search of food and morphine, though rarely ever both.

Rising to hastily wash and dress in her freshly laundered nurse’s uniform; a stark contrast to her large array of expensive dresses, that belong to what is already beginning to feel like a former life, Adelia combs back her brown curls before bowing in the mirror to quickly apply her make-up. New arrivals are due today, not patients, but soldiers, though she remains unclear regarding the purpose of this particular infantry; it has not been confirmed if they will be stationed here at the castle or will be sent off to France like the last group of men.

Hurrying down the stairs, she begins to make her morning rounds.

[mettleborn-a]

Semi-plotted ‘Bond verse’ starter for @warrioroflondonbelow​

She is dressed as if she means to take the night and make it her own; in a slip gown that has drawn breath from most she has passed by this evening. It is hot tonight, hotter too inside this club, the Cuban air thick and humid, enough to cause a trickle of sweat to slide down the length of her exposed spine in time to the rhythmic beat of rumba. Tonight, is not, however, a social occasion, no; it’s business and this dress is merely camouflage, the kind that just barely decorates Adelia’s body, as if she is some impossibly demure and delicate creature, the material so close and sheer, she couldn’t possibly be concealing a weapon, or at least that is how it is intended to appear.

Leaning over the bar, she requests two Cuba Libre with extra lime. Sipping one, she shifts the other to sit idly beside her, the liquor clearly awaiting his attention, as is she. In truth, he’s taking his time and it’s entirely unnecessary, he’s probably gauging the lay out of the place and calculating the right time to approach her, to act as if there’s nothing more on his mind than her dress and what lies under it. A casual pick-up, nothing more, or at least that’s what she imagines he would like her to think.

When she finally senses an approach, she turns, flashing him a soft smile as one should when one’s gazes accidently meets with a handsome stranger’s. Nothing about this, however, is accidental.

As he opens his mouth, presumably to offer her a drink, she silences him with a slim finger pushed up against his lips in an entirely overly-familiar fashion, as if she is about to share a terrible secret with him. Picking up his drink, she presses the cold glass into his palm, before withdrawing her hand. It isn’t poisoned, she’s merely interested to observe whether he will drink it or veer on the side of caution and disregard it completely.

“How would you like to play this?” She asks, a mischievous glint in eye as she regards him, the clear purpose in her tone making it obvious she already has him marked. Already her men are amassing outside; Spectre’s men, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t time for a little fun before reverting to more serious business.

“I can play nice…” Smoothing her soft palm up his arm, Adelia smiles at the agent like he’s an old flame, one that keeps rekindling “…or, I can incapacitate you and drag you out of here, though it would be a shame to dirty such a lovely suit. The choice is yours 009.”

[mettleborn-a]

Plotted starter for @ophelia-hendrix​

“You should have seen him, blustering into the ward, trying to convince sick men out of their beds to be deployed, honestly, the very idea!”

Sitting on her bed in the cool hours of the evening, Lady Lennox casually smokes a cigarette as she brushes the tight curls out of her hair. Reaching for the bottle of brandy on the nightstand, she carefully pours out two short glasses before softly pushing one towards Ophelia.

“I told him that if he didn’t leave that very instant, I would have to inform his Colonel, who just so happens to be a close personal friend of my father’s. You should have seen it Ophelia, he turned white as a ghost, took an about turn and promptly left, as well he should.”

Taking a quick sip of deeply amber brandy, Adelia places down her brush, tightens her dressing gown and moves to lie flat on the bed, lithe bare ankles raised behind her, wrapped together as she rests her chin on her hands and studies Ophelia.

“I saw that Sergeant again today…” she ventures with a playful smile. “…the dashing one who keeps asking about you. He said there are plans to put on a dance the night before the next platoon departs for France, something to raise the men’s spirits. He wanted to know if you were likely to attend.”

Slowly waving her legs back and forth behind her, clearly pleased as she sucks on the end of her cigarette, it’s obvious Adelia finds the whole thing utterly romantic.

“I could lend you a dress if you would like.”

[mettleborn-a]

New OC

Name: Lady Adelia Adilene Lennox

Year: 1840 (This is flexible, threads can be set anywhere in the Victorian Period)

Nationality: English / Belgian

Age: 24

Residence: Drumlanrig Castle in Dumfriesshire, Scotland and a townhouse in London overlooking St James’ Park.

FC: Keira Knightley

Persuasion: Closeted Bisexual

Bio:

Lady Adelia Lennox is the daughter of Edward Lennox, the Duke of Dumfries and the Dutchess of Dumfries, Lady Margaux Lennox, Daughter of the Marquess de Lannoy, originally hailing from Belgium. Edward was a Colonel in the First (Royal) Regiment of Foot (Royal Scots) and fought during the Napoleonic War. It was during his tour of duty in Belgium that he met his wife. He is considered a good friend of the royal family and was particularly close to the late Prince Edward, Duke of Kent and Strathearn, the fourth son of King George III and Father to Queen Victoria.

Adelia’s family are royalists and members of the Scottish Presbyterian Church. Adelia was raised within the grounds of Drumlanrig Castle by her Mother and her Governess. She was schooled to read and write in English French and Dutch, to judge the merits of poetry, to sing, dance and to play violin as well as being instructed on manners and courtesy. As a child, she developed a keen interest in literature and in fashion, interests which have persisted from her teens all the way into adulthood.

As Adelia came of age, her beauty, grace and poise were often remarked upon, resulting in a steady stream of suitors approaching her father, with intentions to marry. None, however, met with her liking and therefore his approval. Edward, having experienced first-hand his Mother’s misery caused by her own arranged marriage, was keen to stress to Adelia from a young age that she would be free to chose her own suitor, though what remained unspoken was that such a suitor should be of appropriate nobility, naturally.

Granting her such freedom has allowed Adelia to pursue her passions, instead of a husband, and it is for this reason, at the age of 24, she remains unmarried. Such passions extend to reading about philosophy, science, the natural world and politics, though she is unable to put her intelligence to use academically or in industry given the limitations imposed by her gender. Adelia is not cruel nor cold hearted but she does suffer frustration in trying to accept her position in society; as a noblewoman thought to be an excellent proposition for marriage and little else. It is a fate she has not yet resigned herself to, though it is one she remains open to, if, of course, she were to fall in love; something she is yet to experience. Though she has been linked to many noblemen who have tried to court her, she has never settled with one. What is not known is that a large number of her affectionate encounters have been with woman, whom she better entrusts to keep secret such liaisons. She is acutely aware of the importance of reputation, and has, in the past, sought the assistance of close friends to ensure hers remains utterly untarnished. While still possessing her beauty and youth, she remains a prospect of interest to men of importance in London.

Overall Adelia is an astute woman, with great wit and political acumen, one who enjoys the social scene in London, the only real opportunity she is afforded to play games that satisfy her mischievous soul and natural sense of playfulness. Adelia enjoys being perused, engaging in games of cat and mouse, though the disguise of mouse is meant only to play the part society expects her to, and if used, it is only ever a manipulation towards a grander plan, as a way to exert influence or simply to meet with her amusement, London can be such a terrible bore after all.