regency romance au

[debrief]

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

Comments

[chessmastered]

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.

[desirability]

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.]

[chessmastered]

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.

[desirability]

[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.

[chessmastered]

[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?

[desirability]

[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.]

[chessmastered]

[In a way, he's pleased to see that this question has caught her off-guard, because it means that whatever answer she gives is one that she hasn't prepared in advance and fine-tuned into what she thinks he might want to hear. It's not that he's doubted her reliability on the previous things she's answered for him; far from it, he's generally convinced that she's been genuine in her remarks. But this question is too important, too significant, to leave even a shadow of a doubt as to its veracity, and so he'd provoked it in the best way he knew how.

And in another way, he now finds himself vaguely unsettled, because provoking her has also meant that he's hurt her, and while he doesn't regret doing it, he does regret that it caused her pain in the process. It's a fine distinction, but one he appreciates.]

Hopelessly romantic isn't something I do well. If you were hoping I'd lay eyes on you and fall desperately in love with you, I truly regret to admit that I haven't. You are undeniably beautiful, and everything I've seen of you up until this point has given me reason to believe that you have a wide array of qualities that are not only likeable, but at times even enchanting. But I refuse to insult you by promising you something that I know full well isn't true — particularly something as important as a commitment of my heart in exchange for yours.

[He pauses, this time a little awkwardly himself.]

I'm a difficult person to develop affections for. I can't promise to change for you. But I also have no intention of asking you to change for me.

[desirability]

I think you'll find that I've outgrown fairy tales, Mister Miller. I'm quite certain that "love at first sight" isn't something that exists. [A pause. Forget about the policeman, forget about the policeman.] So no, I wouldn't ask that of you. And, I think, the fact that you refuse to deny it speaks volumes. I'll take the answer as a compliment.

[Stung, yes, but not so much as to not seem impressed, which she is. . Audrey crosses her arms and raises a hand and finger to tap at her chin as she considers another question for him.]

How long have you known about the engagement prior to this point?

[chessmastered]

[He's pleased, silently, at both the grace of her reply and the content of it; his refusal may speak volumes, but hers does equally so. Another girl might've slapped him by now, or begun to cry (he has, in his life, made a fair number of them cry, not from any malicious sort of intent but simply from his refusal to play a charade for their benefit), but Miss Horne is holding fast to her will and their game, and that is certainly an admirable trait. A likeable one.

Possibly even an enchanting one.]

From what I've discerned from a fair measure of requisite snooping, my parents arrived at the idea shortly after last year's Season. They then spent a period examining the prospects that would be arriving on the market for this year's Season, settled on you, and opened quiet negotiations with your family shortly thereafter. Have you noticed your father moving in conspicuously higher circles of society recently?

[He shrugs, something like a hint of a smile playing across his lips.]

Officially, I found out about the demand of marriage roughly six weeks ago, and learned your name about two weeks ago. Unofficially, I've been aware this was coming for nearly a year.

[desirability]

[There's a light shrug from her as well and she shakes her head.]

Noticed it, of course, though I can't say I've paid much mind to it. My father is notorious for such things. In all actuality, it's far more of a nuisance than a privilege. As you can imagine, he thinks otherwise.

[But there's the smallest smirk that Audrey looks like she may be trying to surpress. A nuisance indeed, but one that she's all too familiar with getting rid of, if necessary. She looks back on the meetings and liaisons she's ruined to her father's embarrassment and, naturally, anger. Regrets? None.]