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Bachelor Auction | 3rd Monday 9pm- Xmas 1677


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Scarlet Drawing Room

The Scarlet Drawing Room was in an out of the way location in Whitehall, quite near the Royal Quarters. It had also been dubbed the Restoration Drawing Room for it was here that Charles I met with Edward Hyde and his Privy Council members when he returned to London. Its use by the King has been largely forgotten, as Charles preferred other drawing rooms closer to his bedchamber. Although open to the public, it was hard to find and, therefore, favoured by those who enjoyed the King's favour and knew of its whereabouts high up in a tower of the palace. 

The walls of the drawing room are draped in red silk. A portrait of the King, painted in the month of his restoration, hangs prominently on the wall. Windows present a glorious view of St. James' Park to the west. A large dining table rests in the centre of this modestly sized room.

 

 

Her Majesty's charity events were a very regular feature this most holy Christian season - tonights was in the form of a Batchelor auction.  The Scarlet Drawing room was arranged with rows of seating, with an platfom at the front where an ornate speakers stand was set.

  • Ladies in an array of colourful masks were already arriving...   (Ladies please describe your mask) 
  • Men   At the doorway was a table with Registration sheet for the gentlemen, a great fluffy quill stood at the ready in it's ink well.  Registrations of all the most eligible Bachelors of Whitehall were anticipated, nay, expected.  (Men indicate if you register)  

 

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Sebastien Von Bruhl completed his signature with a flourish, before straightening and giving a look towards gathered ladies.  He had of course intended to make his presence more known this season, but had let errands and duties had distracted him far too much.  He wondered if Davina was here already, not that that really mattered, but she was one lady whom he'd made an impression at least.

"Here you go chum, you look like you could do with this." It was the cocky and cheery Miles Winstanley offering Von Bruhl a ball glass of brandy.  Ever carefree Miles raised his glass toast-like and claimed,  "This ought to be a real hoot."    

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Lord Kingston did not have a lot of time to change his clothes or prepare for Her Majesty's auction, but he knew that he had to put forward the best appearance that he could for their Queen's charity projects. He knew from the number of the Queen's ladies who giggled at him that he was somewhat desirable, but he had little idea what to expect from such an event. 

 

It could not he helped that he had a lingering smell of gunpowder, especially about his hair, but many others would too, he guessed. Thankfully, the King's gentlemen had their own space so he had been able to change and clean up with the help of a page or two. His hands were a little pink from scrubbing off the blackness as was the side of his face. Thankfully, the level of blushing expected out of Francis would probably hide that.

 

The plait had been taken out of his hair, and it was now spectacularly curly. His clothes had been changed. He smelled of sage, citrus, orange brandy, and gunpowder. Incredibly masculine and alluring if you were to ask him. Without his knowledge, his hat had been freshly plumed. He snorted as the page handed it to him. Buckingham, always. His uncle was far more fashionable than Francis had yet learned to be. Francis had too much lingering practicality for, if not the nephew of a duke, the favourite cousin of a duke. 

 

He arrived in a pretty navy and silver brocade arrangement that eclipsed his former green (parrot) coat that Buckingham hated, with a huge (to him) cravat pin that had made a magical appearance just like the new plumes in his hat! Apparently, it was not just the tailor that had been at the Duke's that morning, nor just Nicci who was to benefit. The only other accoutrement of notice was the court sword that the King had gifted him some months prior.

 

Smiling at the ladies arriving in masks, he then leaned down and signed his name with the floofy quill. Then he offered them a pretty bow before taking up by the (younger...than him) men. Ironically enough, he looked younger than both of them!

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Neither did Charles have time to change, though he would have merely put on another uniform.  Wearing a smile, Charles looked about, eager to see the various ladies in their masks.  Signing the register, he was ready to have the event better explained to him.

In the meantime, he saw Kingston.  They needed to speak.  "Good evening Lord Kingston," he greeted.  "Perhaps now we can complete the conversation we started at the sleigh race."  It had involved some tale about his brother Bradley.  They might enjoy a bit of privacy before the activity became too crowded.

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Francis smiled at Lord Langdon, with who he felt some level of camaraderie for having wards, and the nodded. 

 

In a low voice he began, "I was coming to or from a walk with His Majesty when a young lady came fleeing toward me in the wee hours of the morning by the chapel. I thought her being chased by some brute, but instead it was by your brother...with a gift. Apparently, he had said many rude words to her in German thinking it some love poem, spurred by some idiotic friend Alston, and has been chasing her ever since frightening her quite significantly until I mediated the situation with her hiding behind me." 

 

"The lady is one of the Queen's particular close friends. I had him give me his words as a gentleman he would tell you himself of it, but I think that a week is surely sufficient."

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"Hmmm," Charles frowned.  "It sounds as if someone played a prank on him."  Charles remembered that Bradley was interested in the German lady from  before.  "So there was no harm then, to the lady.  I am glad you were there Lord Kingston."  The question was whether to address this with Bradley at home later or whether to let the lad avoid further embarrassment.  "There were no other incidents afterwards I trust?"

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Anne-Elisabeth teasing Francis and Charles

 

Curious stares followed Anne-Elisabeth as she walked through the palace corridors toward the Scarlet Drawing Room. She had made her debut at court in that room, and she hoped that she would have as much luck tonight, even though nobody would know who she was. Judging from the looks she was getting, she would at least make a grand entrance. Her disguise was a bit over the top, but then so was she.

 

The wig-mask combination had been an anonymous gift sent to her shortly before a masquerade ball in October that had been held at an estate close to hers. She had lamented to everyone she knew about how difficult it was going to be to find a suitable mask, hoping that one would be sent to her. And when it had come, it was absolutely spectacular.

 

Shaped and painted like the face of a tiger,  the mask was enhanced with gold and fake gems,  and ended at the tip of her nose. The wig was fashioned from stripes of black, red, and light blonde hair. Thick, shoulder length, and curly, it tumbled in a ruff around her face and neck. Cat ears covered with red hair had been sewn on top of it, blending in perfectly with the rest of the wig. Anne-Elisabeth was not fond of felines … they were too much like her in personality … but she liked the idea of being thought of as a tigress.

 

She was wearing the same orange crushed velvet gown she had worn to the ball, but the golden braid around the low-cut, off-shoulder neckline had been replaced by black ruching with a wide white ribbon running through the center of it, decorated with tiny orange glass beads. The tight lower sleeves below the puffed orange ones had also been changed. They were now made of black silk covered in white lace and also adorned with orange glass bead.  Her stomacher matched them perfectly. The skirt was split in the middle, the edges and hem trimmed with the same black and white ruching that decorated her neckline. The underskirt matched her lower sleeves and stomacher. Her ensemble was completed by a necklace that resembled an ancient Egyptian collar made of orange, white, and gold beads.

 

As she stepped inside, the only person she recognized was Lord Kingston, talking to a handsome gentleman in a scarlet uniform. Anne-Elisabeth wasn't certain if she was supposed to reveal her identity or not. She was not as excited about the actual auction as she was about getting a chance to meet the Queen. If Dorset participated, she would probably bid on him just to save him from the attentions of a marriage-minded lady and to see if he could guess who she was, but she didn't plan on bidding on anybody else.

 

Yet who knew what the night would bring?  She was definitely keeping her options open.

 

Unable to resist a little mischief, she sauntered toward Lord Kingston and his companion, moving as sleek as the cat she represented. As she passed them, she glanced at both of them and made a sultry roaring sound. She would keep walking unless they spoke to her.

 

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Well, she had been to auctions before but Caroline had to admit this was her first auction where the merchandise was men. A most interesting concept too she had to concede. As she entered, the mask annoyed her, these things were more of a bother than an excitement in her own opinion but it was part of the game and showing up meant she was agreeing to play it. It modeled some sort of a demon she supposed, in truth she had not chosen it herself but had, at almost the last minute, sent her handmaiden to pick one up for her. Obviously she could not be too upset as the woman had proven to be out of her element when it came to this sort of thing. Oh well, at least it was quite gaudy, gilted in bright gold. Though not real gold of course, that would have made it too expensive. She did think the horns on it were a nice touch. Whether it offended some of the more religious sorts she had not considered but even if she had, she probably would not have cared.

It was then that Caroline was aware she had apparently arrived rather early, there were not many people present thus far. Hopefully, it was that she was merely early and not that the whole thing was going to turn out to be a fiasco, how embarrassing for Her Majesty, not that Caroline cared one way or the other about that woman.

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"No, no harm to the lady once she understood, though trust that I say this with friendly intentions for having raised a boy who is now sixteen and for having had guardianship of Lady Sophia...you may wish to reiterate proper targets for his courtly affections in some seriousness, for nothing good could come of an affection for someone placed so far above him as to raise alarm in any matrons, guardians, fathers, or brothers that notice.They will bring their complaints to you. It is not worth the mess to you to need to clean up afterward, my lord," he continued in a whisper, making sure to keep a smile on his face for all the lady onlookers and keeping an eye to make sure nobody was sneaking up to them to attempt to listen. Not that it was a secret for him, for he was not the one who behaved...questionably...foolishly...but he was sure Lord Langdon would not wish the whole court to overhear. 

 

Francis knew the feeling of trying youths and wards; he had to draw his sword for Lady Toledo, risking his life once, and then in another instance he had  to insinuate that he would do so again if an apology was not received forthwith. 

 

He paused in their conversation as a lady in a mask came closer to them and then made a cat sound. He waited until she had started walking away again and made a little roaring sound too. They were supposed to flirt in the name of charity and their Queen, were they not?

 

Making sure the lady was far enough again before he continued in a soft tone, "Your brother is an earnest youth, but when he gives his word as a gentleman, he should keep it. Though I assure you I understand he is barely more than a boy, were it not me but someone else, how should it look to give his word to one of the King's gentlemen to tell his guardian about an incident with one of the Queen's friends and then fail to do it?" While speaking of the young earl's ward and her illness had been far out of his forte to say a thing, he did know what it was to raise a boy into a man and had little difficulty offering friendly advice about a younger brother. 

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OOC: Ladies, to make it easy on everyone, can we label our posts with what your pcs mask is ?  Thanks

 

Unicorn

Candlelight did wonderful things upon velvet.  And the velvet of her dress was a crushed deep pile and luxurious sort, in a hue of emerald green worked with  gold piping and beadwork.  The mask she wore was a graceful, refined aesthetic, while the horn itself sat remarkably steady given it;s length. Into the room she walked with perfect poise, eyes gliding about the evenings offerings.   

She, like many a lady here, was quite titivated of the prospect of buying. It was still rather unclear what the purchasing agreement might even comprise!   But surely it was a chance to enamour, a chance to enchant some gentleman that one might not otherwise brush against?  Her eyes glinted with any such prospect. 

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Charles strolled into the drawing room with his customary langour, and if that image was perhaps a trifle harder to project than was usual, well, who could tell by looking at him? He showed no outward sign of anything but utter relaxation. He had not changed from his greens, judging them perfectly suited to the auction, particularly the breeches, with their tighter fit than was usual, all the better to show off what Charles considered the best-formed parts of his physique.

Whistling cheerily, he approached the registration book and signed his name with a flourish. A quick check to make certain that he had not signed an alias by mistake (that had happened once, and he never had managed to get the stains out of his favourite justacorps), and he straightened, casting a surveying eye over the (small, thus far) assembled crowd. His whistling stopped.

Catching Sight of the Unicorn

Surely not... A coincidence, it must be.

Gazing sidelong at the woman in the unicorn mask, Charles was uncomfortably aware that his thoughts had the tinge of desperation. He did not recognise the dress, but that meant nothing, and the height and figure matched his suspicions.

But how to confirm those suspicions?

Reassuming his usual posture of languid amusement (which most certainly did take more effort than was usual now, though hopefully not noticeably so), Charles moved off for a glass of brandy, placing himself deliberately in the eyeline of the unicorn-masked woman. He would have to see if she reacted to him.

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Butterfly

 

As she would not be taking part in the auction, Sophia had decided not to disguise her identity. She was wearing one of her favorite Venetian masks but it only covered her eyes. It was made of iridescent cream porcelain. At the top of one side was a large cascade of pink yellow, and turquoise fabric roses adorned with medium-sized butterflies fashioned of golden beads. Opals made up the bodies of the butterflies and also decorated their wings. A single large butterfly was attached to the other side of the mask and tiny opals in golden settings surrounded the eye holes. Beaded Venetian lace ruffles framed the entire mask.

 

Her dress was made of multicolored pastel and gold brocade, trimmed around the bodice with beaded Venetian lace. The golden silk of her stomacher showed off her stomacher brooch, a lovely confection of opal, golden beads, and dangling loops of pearls. Her underskirt was also of gold silk and embellished with pearls. She wore pearl earrings and a necklace of pearls, from which an opal and golden filigree butterfly pendant was suspended, resting on the swell of her abundant cleavage. Her hair was arranged in a cascade of curls that flowed down her back. Butterflies formed from pink, yellow, and turquoise beads were attached to some of the curls by pastel-colored ribbons.

 

Stepping inside, her gaze traveled around the Scarlet Drawing Room. Eventually she hoped to speak to the Queen and made a donation to her charities.

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As an available Batchelor George was obliged to present himself - just another sacrificial goat upon the altar of charity.  These words were how he tempered his nerves as he arrived to the Scarlet drawing room... for the possibility the event gave might suit him very well. 

The Earl of Chichester was remaking himself, his recent conversion to Anglican was but one strand through the loom that also included associations with Prince Rupert, Duke Norfolk and Lady Habersham, and with a particular joy of uniting thoughts with Mr Spratt and coy.  Nerves had struck him at each of these shots of the shuttle, but slowly and steadily a new fabric of being was taking shape...

He did not truly expect to be bid upon, George was particularly blind to any signals of attraction from the opposite sex and did not think there was any lady who would 'seize the moment' as it were.  But he was a gambling man. Today there was a reserved curiosity behind this roll of the dice. 

One day he did hope to take a wife, perchance to begat an heir to the Chichester fortune.

He was clothed in a fine navy wool justacorps, well brushed,  with breeches, waistcoat and stockings in varying and complimentary shades of manganese violet.  At his throat his cravat was bronze; the overall effect was a dramatic elegance. George was the very image of a well turned out gent with no expense spared at the tailors. 

Drawing a genial smile to his face he turned to see who was here, hopeful for some conversation to speed time till the auction would begin...

There was a chance he might meet come upon lady Susan Herbert... 'They are wearing masks'.  Well there was the bad news - he had absolutely no idea if Pembrokes sister was even here yet! 

 

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Partridge & Brown Owl 

A further pair of ladies arrived, opulent in their court dresses of Dark green (wearing Partridge Mask), and Chocolate brown (wearing that of wide-eyed brown owl).  An advance warning would seem to have been given to servants in the room to one of this pairs identity, as a fellow in livery stepped forwards swiftly and escorted Partridge directly to a comfortable chair.   Murmur of her gracious assent were forthcoming. 

Brown Owl moved to stand along side that chair, her eyes sliding towards Frances.  Pocket was checked, and a little smile was evident on her lips.   

Unicorn

Her attention was drawn towards a fine baritone with German accent - the mismatch a robust figure speaking with a frivolously dressed lord was obviously a temporary necessity until either or both found more suited pairings arriving.  Mary was tempted to steal the German away. (With the new Queen being German, that entire nation had gained an elevation in precedence!)  Yet before she could approach a silent fellow moved between, his familiar form with one eye meeting with hers, glass of brandy in hand.   "Oh for me, you shouldn’t have..." With a shift of sensation she purred upon approach, extending her hand for kiss (and perchance also his drink)  

Miles Winstanley & Sebastien Von Bruhl

Miles was upon the look out for one lady in particular, he eyed the boosoms present, for the lady he sought had tits of the tiny sort.  It was fortunate for him perhaps, that he was a keen student of courts ladies phisques.  "What do you think old man, I'd cant decide between Brown Owl or the Demon." 

"You dont hear sentances like that very often." Sebastien replied, prequel to a heavy inhalation.  After an equally heavy exhalation he spoke, "I advise you seek the Devil." 

Miles, alas, was flighty enough to not wish heed the germans directive. "Owl it is." he set forth on an ill fated course.   

Von Bruhl wondered ifi he shoudl go after him, out of consideration for Partidge.  But then, Mile had wanted an interestign evening. Staying where he was,  the gent watched on. 

 

  • Von Bruhl is now solo and 'available'
  • Unicorn is with Charles Audley 
  • Miles has approached Brown Owl (standing) & Partridge (seated)

P.S - my NPC ladies are all in half masks too, full masks seeming far too stuffy - though yes indeed it may be easier to then guess at their identity!   

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Charles and the Unicorn

Whatever doubt Charles had been hopefully clinging to vanished at the purred sound of that voice.  

And she's feeling playful too, worse luck. Ah well, nothing for it but to play up and smile. I might even enjoy it.

For a moment he considered commenting that a unicorn mask was a singularly inappropriate choice, or simply necking the brandy. But no. Either of those would have been altogether too crass and, now that serendipity had all but forced it upon him, he reluctantly accepted that they probably did need to talk. Their last proper conversation (the ball did not count, to his mind) had not gone at all to script, and Charles felt almost unsettled, looking back on parts of it. (Other parts of it made him smile, and that unsettled him all the more.) He knew but one way to deal with such frailties, though, and so he forced a playful twinkle to his eye and turned to face Mary directly.

"No, I shouldn't have," he agreed drily, lips curving thinly as he stooped to kiss the offered hand. Oddly formal, all things considered, but Charles saw no reason not to play along for the moment. Seemingly almost by accident, his fingertips brushed against the inside of her wrist and lingered for a bare half a heartbeat before he straightened, still smiling that thin, sharp smile.

"But 'tis done now, and I do not believe in regrets." He offered her the brandy glass with a flourish and then drew out his hip flask. Acknowledge the necessity of this conversation he might, but he would be damned if he went into it without a drink.

Of course, if there is such a thing as damnation, then my place was reserved long ago.

"Is it possible that we haven't spoken since the ball?" he asked, chuckling. "Seems absurd, doesn't it?"

Edited by Charles Audley
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Charles and the Unicorn

While they were hardly in a habit towards each other, his tease inspired her own familiar reply, "Regrets is the burden of the saints and thinkers."

He kissed her hand, and she caught his fingers and held for a moment.  Previously a forbidden attraction had reared (amidst many other less enthralling emotions the pair possessed)  theirs was certainly not a cliché relationship.   

Taking possession of the glass she lifted it to rouged lips. 

"Not since." she smiled.  Do not pretend you have pined for me, what do you want my dear?  "...though I have heard your morning tinkle."

She'd not actually, but teased.    

 

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Charles and the Unicorn

An unexpected reaction, this catching of his fingers, though Charles could not actually say what reaction he had expected, or indeed wanted.

Oh, do not lie to yourself. Exactly this one.

He ignored the intrusion of his father's waspish voice into his thoughts with the ease of long practice, and let his fingers trail over her wrist again, lingering a trifle longer this time. There was a game being played now, and Charles was entirely unsure of the rules or the score. But those were his favourite kind of game.

He arched an eyebrow at her teasing, judging it unlikely that she actually had. It was his habit to rise either with or before the sun, or not at all until noon, and in either case he would be surprised if she had been in a position to overhear him go about his waking rituals.

"I shall endeavour to be more discreet in future," he told her, tone once more dry as dust. "In any case, I meant to speak to you after the sleigh race but, well..." He shrugged. "If you heard me 'tinkle,' as you put it, then you doubtless heard me suffering with my affliction that night, and I have not caught sight of you since."

He decided to gamble then, and flicked a quick glance at her cleavage. She could not be allowed to suspect that he had any interest in her relationship (or lack thereof) with Cadogan, so let her instead think that he was interested in her. It fit with what she knew and thought of him (or so Charles assumed). It was a risk, of course, with a chance that she would be scandalised or take offense. Charles thought it a calculated one, though, given how things had gone between them thus far.

Returning his gaze to her eyes, he smiled guilelessly, or at least tried to. He had a sneaking suspicion that the effort made him look decidedly wicked instead, given its usual lack of efficacy. But it served his purpose either way.

"Well, since we have not spoken since then, how did you fare at the ball after I took my leave?" He allowed the smile to metamorphose into a boyish grin. "I waited for you at night's end, you know. Had I feelings, they would have been quite hurt."

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Francis and Charles

"I am glad there was no harm from it.  In truth I saw his interest in chapel.  I had no idea that she was as highly placed as she is.  I had thought her of some minor house in some Germanic state.  Remember when all of those princesses arrived trying to catch the eye of the King?  They came from places that I could not name again to save my life," he chuckled.  "Many ended in the name of berg I think.  On a map, some seem as tiny as a small English county."

"Your advice is wise," Langdon acknowledged.  "I have enough of my own messes to repair," he chuckled.  "Rest assured I shall speak to him firmly about his eye and his tongue.  If he is to give his word, he will honor it.  I can only hope that he planned to tell me but I have been home but rarely."  He knew that Bradley was interested in Caherine Sedley too, so the lad's sight was not overly high.  Catherine would be an excellent match for him, as her father was well-known and well-off.  An earl could do better.

"Lady Sophia ... it must have been hard for you.  A German and a beauty.  Marrying a Spaniard.  It all seems a bit curious to me, though I hope I do not offend by wondering aloud as to your predicament."  There was a lady in a butterfly mask that resembled the lady in question; the prominent bosom required admiration.

The Lady Tiger came by and roared at the two men.  Charles smiled and doffed his hat as she passed.  He would roar when he saw his own little Swan.  Instead he offered a meow in reply.   

"Lord Herbert," by this he meant Susan's brother Thomas, "is he your cousin?"  Charles was not quite sure the relationship Kirke had to the Villiers family.  He knew he was one of them, but there were plenty around.  "I don't see him here."  He was toying with asking Francis about Pembroke.  Was he as bloody insane as they said?  He remembered the incident in the House of Lords where he escorted the lord away.

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Anne-Elisabeth (Tiger) passing Francis and Charles and approaching Caroline

 

Lord Kingston roared back at her and the other gentleman tipped his hat and meowed. With a low sultry laugh, she bent her fingers into a claw and playfully swiped the air as she passed them and went on her way. There was a lady ahead of her in a gilded horned mask standing alone who looked rather familiar. The Countess was positive that she had met her before, but she wasn't certain who she was. It was funny how a simple mask could completely disguise one so well.

 

Ladies, she believed, didn't need to hide from each other, and so, curious, she approached the other woman, a warm smile upon lips visible beneath her mask. As she wanted her to know who she was, Anne-Elisabeth greeted her in a way that would leave no doubts as to her identity.

 

“Please forgive me for sounding so corny

But the disguise that does so well adorn thee

Is a a very fine mask

To perform the fun task

Of making the gentlemen horny.”

 

It wasn't her best limerick, but it wasn't her worst either.

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The wrong blonde (Sophia the butterfly) approaching George

 

Ahh, there was the Queen, wearing the mask of a partridge. It was easy to tell who she was because of the special treatment she received. Sophia moved toward her but a gentleman beat her to it. Oh well, there would be another opportunity before the evening was over. Scanning the room, she saw Lord Chichester, looking quite elegant in navy, violet, and bronze. It was a very intriguing combination of colors and suited him well. Almost without thinking, she glided toward him.

 

“Lord Chichester, how dashing you look tonight,” she said. She believed he would recognize her. Her small stature, platinum hair, and ample bosom gave her away. “I have not seen you for quite some time and I have been worried about you. I do hope that you have been well.”

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The Demon

For a time Caroline watched as more and more people flooded into the place. There were Francis and then too Charles Audley, two men she was very fond of for quite different reasons. She made no move to approach them though. Francis was talking to Lord Langdon, that man made her angry and this was probably not a good time to give in to that emotion. And Audley was already with another woman, no surprise there. Not that she blamed him at all. These sort of affairs were designed for mingling and enjoyment...oh and some charity too tonight she recalled.

Now the women though, she truthfully had a hard enough time keeping them all straight even without the bloody masks, this just made it impossible. She guessed the Partridge seated was the Queen, that was the only masked one she ever considered trying to identify for now. Oh yes, there was Sophia too, she didn't have much of a mask on at all. Seems her dour Spanish husband did not accompany her, much to Sophia's good fortune she imagined.

She snapped out of her people watching then as a servant passed by with a trayful of drinks. Reaching out she lightened the tray by one drink and .....wait...how does one even drink in these stupid masks? Damn! This whole thing was probably a big mistake on her part. This was not her idea of a good time.

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The Demon

Sophia didn't take long though to find someone to talk to. Ahh, that was the man who was so hated by her orchestra patron, the Welsh composer. She missed that man, he had given her the glorious opportunity to play her cello in his opera.

She snapped out of her people watching then as a servant passed by with a trayful of drinks. Reaching out she lightened the tray by one drink and .....wait...how does one even drink in these stupid masks? Damn! This whole thing was probably a big mistake on her part. This was not her idea of a good time.

Just then a lady approached her. She certainly looked familiar enough and when she spoke then in a clever off the cuff rhyme, Caroline knew then who it was, not that she was good with names.

"Why thank you,  though I wonder if the choice of this thing may only scare away the gentlemen? You are the newcomer to court, Lady Devereux, correct? I am Caroline, Lady Kendishall. I was on the sleigh with Lord Kingston."

Edited by Caroline Despanay
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There were masked ladies about, though a man could hardly approach one. 

Tonight was an evening where the Ladies had the upper hand, where men were the 'items' on a variety shelf they now did peruse.  He stood uncertainly, trying to hold a manner of composed polish.  This must be how a ornament feels in the china shop, just waiting for a shopper to come along and flip him over looking for the makers mark.  Though his makers mark was already known to them all. 

George looked for an ally upon the shelf, a male friend. He knew those two there, Kingston and Whitehurst, but the pair looked deeply absorbed.  He did not personally know Winstanley, who then moved apart to speak to the Queen (it was easy to guess her identity).  Leaving another fellow he'd never met, seemingly German.  

As the only option to not feel outcast, George begun towards Von Bhrul... 

When a guardian angel arrived - make that guardian butterfly.

"My Lady..." George smile was wider for the relief that he felt. Bowing he reached ot kiss her hand, "You bring the kiss of spring to a chill winter evening." 

Arising, he thought her familiar, well very, it was his friend Toledo's young wife.  How kind of her to take pity upon me!  "My lady Butterfly's grace shall be remembered, and treasured." He vowed to send the Toledos a gift upon the morrow. Due to her company the nights stresses had eased considerably!

“You are not here to bid.” He easily divined, then cheekily teased, “Nor surely to trade.”   

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BEE

She was dressed in black brocade with a matching underskirt only in gold. A trellis design of vines ran down both sides of that underskirt and spaced at intervals was a design made up of yellow garnets and black jet. The same pattern repeated around the top edge of her bodice and continued round the back. It was cut in a lower scoop than she normally wore and her chemise had no lace so all that was visible was skin. At her neck she wore a strip of black velvet that had the same bead pattern that ran the length and tied behind her neck. Half her hair was bundled up the rest left to cascade in curls down her back where small gold bees with black jet eyes which were actually small hair pins had been artfully placed. For ornamentation yellow garnet earrings. Her scent was a new one for her and held a touch of Spice mixed with a Floral that left a tantalizing trail (or so she hoped) as she passed. Her lips colored from the crushed berrys of the Pomegranate. 

Her mask was simple. Black velvet with no added anything. It covered to her nose leaving her mouth free.

She had no obligation this night and so arrived unattended her eyes going directly to the one wearing the Partridge Mask then moved on giving no indication that she knew who it was. She would do a slow stroll of the Space noting the other Ladies present

Lady Toledo was much too easy. Butterflies. she does not intend to bid I suspect and even if she was fully masked there is no way for her to hide her body. at least Lord Chichester and she are known and he has the Company  ....

who I wonder lies beneath the Unicorn ..... and a Tiger would be no shy lady or girl ....  Brown Owl would not be a worry ...

She took a slender crystal glass from a passing servant as she moved in the direction of Lord Langdon. She would not stop but might hesitate just long enough for him to admire. She also saw that The German was in attendance. She had not seen him for weeks. 

There were many Gentlemen not yet present but twas early still.

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Francis and Charles

"Indeed, I would have been no wiser had I not asked who was responsible for her whilst she was here in England, but I do think her brother is like a duke, but not like our dukes, a sovereign duke, or a prince? More like a prince? I do not know," he allowed, with a chuckle. For all he knew one could be margrave or whatever of a hundred acres. "All I do know is that is far too high for second sons and even barons."

 

He was gracious about Langdon's words, for he had no reason to be otherwise. "I am sure that is the case, Christmas is very busy, and he ;ikely wished to avoid your ward and her illness too." Francis could provide excuses for a boy. All boys would be idiotic if you let them. Perhaps Langdon should send his brother on a ship; you manned up or...you died. Then again Tom was already on the ship with him with his father had died on his Francis' other ship, so he had not been the one to make that choice.

 

"Every young lady is a challenge to the man responsible for her I should think!" The blond pushed an errant bit of hair that had fallen in his face. "And she did not get on with Sir Cedric's daughter and could not stay with me, so there was quite some pressure." It was quite odd as Lord Langdon pointed out, but Francis was not going to confirm how or why. A man of court would know why any lady was married in such a way. She was either too silly to be trusted, which she was, or she had already done something to ruin herself, which she had (although Francis did not know to what degree or that it was with Don Juan). He need not say. 

 

He did not expect Sophia to be there, so he did not think her among the throng, cleavage or not. Instead his eyes traveled amongst the others. He had no idea whether the Queen was going to be there or not, so a lady being seated could easily mean a duchess or a royal duchess. He did not think much of that either.

"Captain Herbert is, yes, though he has the dark hair. Their mother is a Villiers," he began as he leaned in conspiratorially, "But do not ask me how, I am very, exceedingly bad at genealogy. I generally find out someone is my cousin weeks after I've already been speaking with them." Then he added, "There is also a Lord Herbert, but he is not a Herbert but a Somerset, but also not a Seymour, and I have no idea how that works." For Francis, it was hard for his mind to grasp how the Seymours had Somerset as a title, the Somersets had Herbert as a title, and the Herberts were entirely something else. 

 

"Are we supposed to solicit bids for later by flirting now?" he asked the other gentleman, quietly, smirking. 

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The Demon and the Tiger

 

Her impromptu limerick had paid off. The other woman knew who she was. “Yes,” she replied, “I'm Anne-Elisabeth Devereux, the Countess of Cambray.”

 

So it was at the sleigh race where she had met Lady Kendishall, who was a widow like herself “And you came to my rescue when I fell in the snow. I must thank you again for that. Luckily, I made it here without slipping at all. Mistress Vauquelin has spoken highly of you as well.”

 

Anne-Elisabeth studied Caroline's mask more closely. “It has a mysterious appeal. I don't think your mask will pique the gentlemen's interest rather than scare them away. Do you plan on bidding tonight or are you just here to mingle and observe?”

 

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George and Lady Butterfly

 

Lord Chichester's broad smile told Sophia that he was pleased to see her. She had no idea that he felt awkward about being auctioned, but if she had given it any thought, she would have felt the same way if she was still unmarried and ladies were being bid on. Not even her natural confidence and her love of being the center of attention would have eclipsed her feelings of anxiety.

 

He bowed, his lips whispering pleasantly over her small hand.  His compliments were so eloquent that a soft blush blossomed across her cheeks, accentuated by her mask.   “Thank you, my lord. Your words are music to my ears and a song to my heart.” That statement was designed to let him know who she was in case he hadn't figured it out already. And it seemed that he had discerned her identity.

 

Her laugh was light and lyrical. “Of course not. My husband did not accompany me tonight, so I could not trade if I wished to.” She assumed that he meant she might want to exchange Esteban for a gentlemen she found more appealing. As George was his friend, she had to be careful not to give him the idea that she was unsatisfied with her marriage, even in jest.

 

“Will you be participating in the auction?” Sophia narrowed her eyes playfully. “If not, the ladies will be quite disappointed. Were I single and had not yet met my lord husband, I know I would be.” Lord Chichester was handsome, but she had never really fancied him. She considered him a good friend, though and remembered the promise she had made to him when he was out of favor a few months ago. The two of them had come a long way since that ball last spring when she had tossed a glass of wine on his stockings.

 

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George and Lady Butterfly

A ptiy for the mask that he did not see the pinking effect of his charm upon her - though her reply was a warm enough indication. "It is apt that I can return the favour, often enough my own heart has been lifted by your musical contributions."  he replied.

She laughed but was notably quick to explain Toledo’s absence the first obstacle to that feat.  "Then I shall scold him for his stout work ethic next time we meet." George replied still in jest.   For all that he knew the newly married Lord and Lady Toledo were existing in a state of perpetual bliss.  "He is at work, I suppose?" 

A man of George’s nature was ever prudent to not sound too interested in the answer on such questions.  The evening he'd spent with Esteban some week or so ago had been a good time, though Esteban, as ever, kept a part of him withdrawn.  Not that George judged him for that, but rather identified with it.  Sometime, however many years hence, trust would develop and friendship deepen.  

"Yes." it was a short and simple answer given, with a wry smile for her flattery. While the fastidiousness of Georges attire might paint him as an egotistical man, he was anything but.  He did not expect heated bidding (frankly would be relieved if there was just one bid!)  There was the unpleasant fact that his peers were all watching. Men would judge each other on how active any of the bidding was (or lack of).  The sooner this ordeal was over and he could slink back out of the spotlight the better.

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Charles and the Unicorn

 

"Your affliction?” She responded, what a terrible step mother she was to have not a clue to what he was talking about.  They were far from close. Though perhaps that itself was part of the confusing appeal?  It was odd to have a kinsman one might speak quite freely to, and with a wit and humor also, while being near strangers still, and then too the undercurrent of intrigue.

“You mean you were hungover.” She asked, her own eyebrow raising this time. 

“Yes, in any case.” Repeating his nonchant phrase she supposed with a pout, “I have not been hid nor avoiding, I do hope that your efforts with the opposite sex are not always so lacking of effort.”

A pout that was definitely appeased some as he admired her bosom - yes, she really was a terrible step mother, she would blame it on her youth.  

“No need for you to fret.” Her tone lifted, pleased of his admission of missing her.  "I hardly intended to tell you, but our Mutual friend was most accommodating, and did walk me back to my room after.”

She met his eye, measuring his response.

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Charles and the Unicorn

Charles gave her a mock reproachful look. He had had some beastly hangovers in his time, but he would gleefully take even the worst of them over the most gentle of his migraines, and pay for the privilege.

"I should wish for something so mild and predictable," he said, lips curling slightly. "I suffer from migraines. I was struck down Saturday afternoon, and did not return fully to myself until this morning." Was it possible that she genuinely had not known? His father most definitely had. (He had once sent Charles an angry letter decrying all physicians as overpriced charlatans and his son as "a credulous fool, with not the hundredth part of the iron or discipline that makes a man." Charles had memorised the words before burning the letter. It amused him, in a strange, dark way, to think of them in times of duress.)

But there is no reason to assume that he passed the knowledge on.

The mask hid enough of her face that reading her expressions was something of a challenge, but he could make out enough to guess that she was pouting. Along with her words, it was enough to bring a smirk to his own face, even as he dragged his eye over the flesh framed by the emerald velvet of her dress. He noticed the pout fading as she caught him looking. Now, was she merely trying to reassert control over her expression , or did the attention genuinely please her?

Well, she hasn't slapped me, so I think I shall plumb for the latter.

"Do you truly desire me to treat you as I do other women?" he asked, voice silky, leaning in slightly as he spoke. The words had not been planned, slipping out without conscious effort, but Charles hastily assured himself that they fit with his intended approach.

He straightened up and drew back when she mentioned that Cadogan had walked her back to her room. It was disquieting, for a variety of reasons that Arthur seemed to have done so well. Charles had anticipated a much more difficult courtship, giving him far more control over the pace and direction of the plot.

"That was good of him," he said, smiling. He did not allow his voice to chill. The temptation was there, but it would not do to oversell his deception. Mary was sharp enough to take note of any detail that did not fit, and she would, he thought, expect him to have sufficient self-control not to descend into jealous rage. "I must have just missed him, unless you left early."

He sipped from his flask, and gave Mary a considering look from under his brows.

"What did you make of Master Arthur Cadogan?" he asked, lowering his voice. "I should welcome a second opinion, and you are well-placed to offer such. You have wit, and we have agreed that our interests are generally aligned."

Edited by Charles Audley
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