regency romance au

regency romance

PROMPTS

( 1 ) dancing; whichever dance - and remember, the waltz was initially frowned upon for how close partners were - you are dancing. maybe your dance card is full and you'll move on to the next admirer. maybe this is the partner you've had your eyes on forever. whichever it is, enjoy this one dance.

( 2 ) subtle touches; helping her down from the carriage, touching her hand in a crowded ballroom, whatever it is, tonight you're communicating with small gestures and subtle glances.

( 3 ) note passing; have something to tell the one you like but no chance to do so in person? surely there is a servant willing to run an errand or two for you...

( 4 ) awkward carriage rides; you're alone in the carriage without a chaperone. what to make of it?

( 5 ) arranged marriage; your hand was promised to this person. do you like them? do you hate them? will you come to some sort of arrangement?

( 6 ) absconding to the moors; obligatory smut option

( 7 ) rich/poor; you're from different social classes and your liason would be frowned upon if people knew

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[ Hey, every young pretty girl secretly hopes for a romantic arranged marriage to some charming stranger, doesn't she? Especially when he comes from a well-to-do family, happens to be Rather Handsome, and comes with a title to boot: the eldest son of a duke is a catch most girls could only dream about.

Of course, it sort of helps the matrimony along when the happy couple has at least had the chance to meet each other once, so perhaps a stroll in the garden is just the thing for these two young people to get acquainted?

(Chaperoned, of course. Young ladies do have their reputations to think of, after all.) ]

[Gardens are fine, as are strolls, but Audrey never quite expected this to be so awkward. Part of it has to do with the fact that this man, handsome and rich as he may be, isn't the police officer she's been pining after. Another part is the chaperone himself: her uncle, who Audrey keeps shooting glares at when she thinks he isn't looking.

But, if Audrey knows anything about awkwardness, it's that it has to be diffused. Immediately. By whatever conversation necessary, potentially rude or not.]

My father tells me you're royalty.

[She's direct, he notes with silent approval, and as much as he's not entirely thrilled about having such restricted say in who will inevitably be sharing his title, lands, and wealth for the rest of his days on this earth, he supposes that if it's got to be someone, it might as well be a girl who doesn't beat around the proverbial bush. He's lucky in that he's so well-placed, his position in society goes a long way to forgive his own somewhat eccentric preferences — like, for example, girls who occasionally speak their mind — but even that only goes so far, and some forms must be observed for the sake of the forms.

Like dragging her uncle along.

He vaguely wonders if they assigned the man to be her chaperone because they're subtly trying to break the engagement, or if they merely thought to entertain him by providing some humor to go along with the company of their pretty daughter.]

Your father is aiming to exaggerate my desirability. He's right that we're related to royalty, but it's fairly distant enough that a lot of people would have to go forth to meet their maker before I was ever in a position to put a crown on your head. I hope that isn't a problem.

[Speaking of humor.]

((ooc: and i also haven't gotten the chance to voicetest her, so i apologize if i am all over the place.))

I suppose I can find some way to forget the disappointment.

[But she's grinning; it's a joke. The awkwardness is sufficiently dissolving, just as she had planned. She doesn't say, but she's a bit relieved at the response; surely if he were closer in line to that crown, more people would be watching him - and, by association, her. And Audrey knows that if her rebellious antics hardly go unnoticed as she stands now, it would only be multiplied later on.

She trains her eyes back on her uncle and ever-so-casually takes a few steps closer to her fiance. Gears in her head are clearly turning. Preparing to put one of those aforementioned rebellious antics into action? Perhaps.

If you're aiming for a prince, I believe the eldest available match is approximately four years old at the moment. Which means I'd be happy to duel him over you, if necessary.

[He's watching the distance between them as they walk, calm and unruffled but still attentive behind his mask of charming impassivity, and it makes him curious. He may not have met this lovely daughter of the Hornes in person before, but naturally he's heard the usual gossip about her family, and he wonders. Her father is a man of wealth, and she's very pretty; surely those two things would go a long way at forgiving any other complications that might arise in an engagement — particularly when he suspects his parents have their own motives behind this match, aside from the standard ones they've told him.

But this is curious. They may be as good as engaged (if only because he hasn't formally asked for her yet, though that isn't far off, he knows), but there are still the social mores to observe. Why, then, is she beginning to push at their boundaries? Is she aiming to seduce him for fear he might cry off and leave her ruined after this first encounter? Is she trying to drive him away by being too forward and hoping he'll react with displeasure? Or is she simply aiming to give him advance warning of what he's in for when he claims her hand as his?

It's curious. And he's interested. So he's going to wait and see what happens.]

Shall we go this way? I see roses, if you're fond of them.

Not necessary at all. I'd hate to be the cause of such a disruption.

[Even if that's not entirely true in every situation, but that's one of the lovely things he'll find out eventually. At his question, she seems to perk up just a bit, and there may be the glimmer of a surprised expression. At this rate, she won't have to surprise him when she attempts to make their daring escape away from her uncle.]

My favorites, actually.

[That's when she stops walking, reaching out a hand to still him, as well. She watches her uncle, who, conveniently and thankfully (for Audrey), keeps walking. She then takes hold of Mister Miller's wrist and makes to bolt away - not necessarily for any risque indiscretion, but it is difficult to gauge anyone's motives while covered in social niceties.]

[— aha. So she's aiming to ditch the chaperone, is she?

Well, fortunately for Miss Horne, it's not his reputation that's going to get ripped to shreds for a stunt like this; on the contrary, he'd probably get a round of pats on the back and possibly a drink offer or three. Which is, naturally, a revolting thought, but it's not as though he's following her on this little escapade with that sort of social tarnishing in mind, anyway.

So when he gets that first insistent tug on his wrist, he follows it without resistance, moving as efficiently and silently as is possible in a getup like the one he's wearing (though she'll have a much harder time of it, he muses, in those skirts of hers). This is her caper, so it's her lead, and he won't make a sound until they're well out of earshot of her amusingly inept chaperone.]

[They go just as he'd suggested, to the rosebushes. They've probably run a bit too fast and made a bit too much noise, Audrey thinks, but she crouches down carefully moves one of the blossoms out of the way to peer through a gap. Her uncle's looking around curiously - and then walking in the other direction, probably ready to pin the blame on a stray cat or something of that sort. A stray cat capable of making sounds like four feet running away. Even if she suspected this, Audrey fights the urge to roll her eyes before turning back to him.]

The atmosphere was ruined the instant he came with us. I do hope this doesn't ruin your impression of me.

[But there's the smallest twinkle in her eyes that proves that really, she doesn't care either way. Better to have him know of her habits now than to be unfortunately surprised later on.]

[Well, at least the uncle's blundering doesn't seem to run to all of the bloodline, he notes with some approval as he silently watches her until she gives the signal that it's safe to talk. And this is certainly an amusing way to spend the afternoon, albeit not precisely the way he'd envisioned it going when he was on his way over earlier.

His smile, if you could call it a smile, is vague — not quite there on his lips, but somehow discernible from his overall expression, and the light in his eyes. In his youth, his nursemaids had constantly bemoaned this tendency to his mother, fretting over how he never smiled no matter what they tried; more recently, his sole friend and companion had remarked with humor that it would take a natural disaster, some act of God, or the very fall of the Crown to provoke a smile from him.

Miss Audrey Horne is neither a natural disaster nor an act of God, but he can almost imagine her bringing down the monarchy in one way or another, and that's amusing.]

At the risk of being forward, Miss Horne, I admit I wonder just how much my impression of you really matters to you. [A pause.] Coincidentally, I could say the same about your opinions on the prospect of marriage.

[Well, if she's going to be reckless, then he'll be blunt. They're apparently showing hints of their true natures now, aren't they?]

I almost wonder if you mean to offend me, Mister Miller.

[She stares up at him curiously, offering a visual of that wondering. But, of course, this was part of the whole reason for their great escape, and she's more than thankful that he doesn't appear to be slow on the uptake. That's a plus.]

Truthfully, I only suppose that if you, of all people, develop any impression of me, that it ought to be the right one.

[Audrey says that as though she's considering it, although naturally, it's something that she already developed. At the comment of marriage, however, she stays silent, and any playfulness falls away. It goes without saying that she was always aware of her age, and perhaps dimly knew that courtship and marriage were close, but it was always a fleeting though. Looking back, she didn't think she had truly considered the possibility even with the officer she had pursued.]

"The right one" is a subjective term. For example, I'd imagine your definition of the phrase varies rather considerably from your father's.

[He makes a show of turning his attention to the flowers blooming along the hedge, giving her at least the illusion of space to collect herself and maintain her bearing. It seems he'd guessed right; she doesn't seem to want this, either — or at the very least, she has her own agenda to it, separate from that of her parents.]

And rest assured, if I meant to offend you, you'd be offended.

[He severs the stem of one of the roses and plucks it from the hedge, beginning to snap off the thorns one by one.]

After all, you did bring me here so we could talk without pretense, didn't you?

My father isn't the one you're courting, is he?

[Audrey is completely deadpan as she says that, and when he turns away from her, she does the same, instead picking at the petals of one of the roses and letting them fall to the ground.]

And yes, I did. There isn't much use in hiding things and playing coy, do you think?

[As much as she doesn't appreciate the idea of being married off, at least she can use questions such as that to make her judgments of whether or not this will prove tolerable.]

That depends on if you see me as an independent agent in this oncoming matrimony, or as an emissary of my father's agenda.

[His choice of words there is deliberate; he's presenting possibilities and voicing hypotheticals here, not actively revealing which role he's actually playing. And that has very little to do with any sort of sinister intent and merely that it's his nature to voice such observations, in accordance with his generally deadpan composure and cutting disposition. There's only so far he can reveal those traits on a daily basis when he's under the watchful eye of the rest of society, but hidden in the rosebushes and faced with an offer of plain speaking, he's free to let more of it show. Hopefully it's something they can continue, he muses. Simpering girls are always tedious to deal with.]

We're on this outing in the first place under the pretense of getting to know each other. In the interest of furthering that goal, what would you say to trading me question for question? Quid pro quo, if you'd prefer I dazzle you with my learnings in Latin.

Very impressive, Mister Miller.

[It's said in regard to the Latin, though it could go for the rest of the proposal, as well. She eyes him, sizing him up and determining what questions will give her the most valuable information in the quickest amount of time. But - she has to wonder - would she really want the conversation to end so quickly? Especially as he's been nothing but receptive, it seems, to her schemes. And it appears he's also given her her first question.]

If that is the case, was this an idea of your father's, or do you wish my hand for your own reasons?

[Marvellous. Brisk and to the point. This should go along well, then, in the time that they have in relative privacy before her uncle inevitably realizes he's lost them and comes looking.]

Yes, it was an idea of my father's. And yours, from what I've gathered of the negotiations prior to this arrangement. You have a considerable dowry but no rank of particular note, and I have several titles and an estate that can only benefit from consolidation with your family's holdings. My family is also eager to see me married because they think having a wife and family of my own will temper my more eccentric tendencies with filial maturity; yours, I suspect, is eager to see you married off before your eccentric tendencies taint your prospects on the marriage market. All things considered, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. For someone.

[He delivers this calmly, as though reading from a book, and waits to see what she has to say in response before pressing to claim a question of his own.]

[It's more than an acceptable response for her, and she's grateful for it as she listens intently. He's honest. He has no reason to be anything other than that, naturally, but Audrey knows, perhaps a bit more than she should, that reason never stopped anyone before. When she speaks, it's almost idle, rather than an actual contribution.]

With both of our tendencies, I doubt either of us will be much good at any sort of tempering.

[Not that she knows his, of course, but there's time to figure that out. She looks him directly in the eye and waits for a question of her own to answer.]

Hope springs eternal. At least as far as my parents are concerned.

[He shrugs mildly; the constant tug of war between filial obligation and his own proclivities is nothing new to him, and he accedes to the things they insist about as often as he attempts to resist them, keeping a neat balance between the two. Such is his life.]

That said: do you want to be married?

[He doesn't specify whether it's to him in particular, or to anyone in general. He'll leave that up to her to reveal, and learn something about her by the way she chooses to answer it in the first place.]

[She stares at him for a moment, straight-faced, before returning her attention to the roses once more. She's picking at them again, practically tearing off the petals and letting them fall.]

I've not given it the thought that I assume is customary. Of course, I knew that it was eventually inevitable, but - I suppose I always had a hopelessly romantic thought that it would be to someone that I couldn't live without, that I'd be whisked away with him on some life of continued riches and adventure. And I clung to that thought without ever actually realizing it.

[She knows she walked right into it by consenting to their little game, but the answer was still a bit more honest than Audrey would have liked. But, finally, she turns her attention back to him.]

Sufficient?

In other words, you weren't planning on an arranged marriage, and moreover you were hoping for a future fairly different than the one that is currently in the cards for you. That's what I was wondering, yes.

[At the sight of her shredding the roses, he seems to remember the one in his own hands, and returns to snapping off the thorns.]

Go ahead.

You spoke of eccentricities. [Audrey plucks the final petal from the flower she's taken and drops it to the ground. She's tempted to tear the stem from the bush as well, but resists. She's not feeling that violent, after all.] What sorts?

[A legitimate question, in her opinion. It's important for her to verify that they won't conflict in that regard. Though, Audrey would admit that she would prefer tumultuous to plain and dull.]

As you undoubtedly have noticed, I have what my mother calls a remarkable gift for seeing things as they are and an unfortunate tendency of commenting on it. I favor intellectual pursuits over military ones and would sooner play a game of chess than hunt a fox or shoot targets on a range. I dislike simpering and feminine wiles, and would sooner engage a lady in a debate than escort her to a social function or praise her needlework. None of which are traits that make me particularly appealing as a husband, and all of which my parents frequently seek to conceal.

[He pauses, as if reflecting on the fact that this will probably give her a negative perspective of him, as well, and judging precisely how he feels about that.]

Though I do like music. Little consolation to you though that may be.

[She gives him the exact same look as she did to his previous response; with this, perhaps, they're relatively well-matched, if he's speaking truthfully. And the irony isn't lost on her of their parents' motivations (at least partially) being attempts to calm their children down, and the fact that they should wind up with each other.]

If I may say so, I would take music and interesting conversation over needlework any time I were given the choice.

[It does make for a neat fit — as well as a better answer for why someone as eligible as he is might be wrapped up in an affair like this, rather than being left to find his own match in his own time. Especially since no one would soon question why a young lady might leap at the chance to marry a duke's heir, nor would they spend long wondering why a young man might leap at the chance to marry a girl as beautiful as Miss Audrey Horne.

He finishes divesting his rose of its thorns and spins it lightly in his fingers, regarding the petals with a thoughtful air.]

I firmly intend to give any woman I marry the choice.

[Although. That does lead rather smoothly into his next question, as it is once again his turn.]

It's with some regret that my question must come to this, Miss Horne, but I suspect it'd be better in the long run to simply air it now. [He pauses; the rose spins.] Do you expect me to love you?

[Audrey frowns, but only for a fraction of a second before she manages to turn it into a thoughtful expression. Despite all promises of honesty and tossing away pretenses, she has to admit - that wasn't quite a question that she had expected. As such, she's unprepared to answer.]

I expect you to respect me, especially given your previous response. And I expect that you shouldn't give anyone a reason to say or think otherwise. In time, I suppose I expect it to grow into some kind of mutual appreciation.

All in all, it depends on how you define "love."

[In every single case, "expect" can be interchanged with "hope," though, of course, she would never say that. The situation's nowhere near that desperate yet. And really, despite her elaborate answer, a "yes" would have sufficed.]

regency romance au

regency romance

audrey horne ; twin peaks

5?

sounds good! c:

i love that you play audrey, btw. i couldn't resist.

fjakl thank you! i just binge-watched the whole series and couldn't resist picking her up. :|

i'm happy to help you voicetest, then! no apologies necessary, experiment all you want. o/

yesss. \o/

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