A SUMMERNIGHT'S DREAM @devilsmood - Tumblr Blog

Goodness, MR. NICHOLAS BROOKSBANK has arrived in London. HE is 30, of the KENSINGTON BROOKSBANKS. Though they are RETURNED to the Season, we can only describe them as FREETHINKING and RESOURCEFUL, dear reader. Accompanied by NO ONE, they have settled in and are accepting social calls. But be warned: they are known for their INTENSITY.

#theseason;introduction

for @dianabartlett | at hatchard’s on a sunny afternoon.

while shuffling through the familiar surroundings of hatchard’s, he was breathing in the smell of musty paper, the stale scent of a place which didn’t get enough air. rows and rows of books greeted him as nik made his way to the far back, their leather coverings near unreadable as they were bathed in pure sunlight casting the open space in a golden hue. and while nik didn’t necessarily expect quiet and solitude in a place as busy as hatchard’s, he also didn’t expect there to be some rummaging, sounds of books being put back into place, and a woman self-assuredly scanning the bookshelves in evident in search of something. with her hands on her hips and a gaze that could surely have set any soldier scurrying under the intensity of it, the woman looked rather formidable.

nik had once known a servant on his father’s estate who knew all his books by touch, and just needed to run his fingers along their spine to tell which was which—but he hadn’t been able to read the collection himself. as he stood there and observed the woman with wisps of wild curls framing her face in a way that appeared to annoy her, he found she rather reminded him of this old acquaintance.

“so i take it you’re looking for a particular example of something?” he let the question linger in the air, the rising intonation an indication of his curiosity.

#dianabartlett #001: beginnings.#001: diana bartlett.#posting this starter was (is) my no1 priority for today

ernestpembroke·:

“Not usually but you know it is tiring work, constantly having to come up with new methods to shock people. I’ve hardly gotten to relax!” As if anyone could ever believe such things were work to Ernest. No, all of London society must know by now how immensely he enjoyed having attention turned to him, even in the more harsh light of a scandal.

He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, this is far better than country life, I shall give you that.” At least he didn’t have to avoid their father, that was a great relief, not to mention it was thrilling how many new people he’d managed to become acquainted with. “Not society, though,” he clarified, “society is just as dull, it’s the other loathers of it that I enjoy… Though, I suppose they’re still society, if only by technicality - Us too.” He pursed his lips, apparently in deep thought, but that quickly evaporated when he popped back up onto his feet. Pacing resumed.

“Shall we go out for drinks?” He suggested with a shrug, as if to say ‘I’m in if you are’. “It’s still early, we might find some amusement. Anyway, I should like to hear what you’ve been up to, you already know about me.” At least he knew what was always the case, that he went out to seek trouble and returned after finding it. Really, there was rather little evidence that he would actually be settling down soon, he was too busy causing chaos to begin any courtships.

“relax?” nik echoed with a hint of amusement in his timbre, obviously not thrown off guard by ernest’s over the top response. “i don’t think you’d know how to relax even if détente itself tied you to a chair.”

no, it simply wasn’t his style. ernest loved being the center of attention and needed it to thrive in an environment that would otherwise suffocate him and his talents and nik couldn’t fault him for finding pleasure in what he himself considered to be disagreeable—however many liberties ernest took to achieve his goals, nik understood his brother’s intentions and that was enough to keep him from interfering with his business… on most occasions.

“i can see the gears turning in your head,” nik commented from his position while his brows knitted together at ernest resuming his pacing. here we go again, he thought to himself with the slow flicker of a smile on his lips. “i was pouring over books, if you must know. you will be pleased to know i was also in attendance at almack’s here and there. really nothing all that exciting.”

did he want to go out for drinks? glancing over at his brother, he was sure that keeping him inside would be virtually impossible. nik rose to his feet, before gesturing exaggeratedly to the door. “if your excellency will deign to follow me, i just know the place.”

#ernestpembroke #001: ernest pembrooke.#001: beginnings.#we can do a timeskip if you want!#or write out as they go on their merry way

ladyaurelia·:

There were layers to a smile like Nik’s. While Aurelia’s lips betrayed her truth as quickly as her eyes, there was always a certain depth to Nicholas’s expressions. He was intelligent in a way that went beyond Aurelia’s own comprehension. She had a quick tongue and a certain worldliness to her, but Nik was intelligent in the truest sense of the world and she admired him for it. He was focused and calculated, where she was brash and unyielding.

To an outsider, their friendship was an odd thing, an anomaly of the ton, but to Aurelia, there were few things that made greater sense.

“Oh, please do,” Aurelia replies, “At this point, I think Charles would be so grateful to be rid of me that he might very well double my dowry, to ensure my engagement would result in wedlock. Still, at any rate, I think he would take rather poorly to calling you brother.”

Her calls her devil-like, and from Nik, it’s a compliment of the highest order. “Oh, it takes one to know one,” Aurelia replies, throwing a small wink in his direction, before fresh laughter captures her lips, “Take a knee now and I think we would surely set the whole park ablaze! Though, I can’t help but wonder if that would earn us a free carriage ride around the park…perhaps, free ice cream at Gunter’s, as well…” she muses, “Now that I think of it, it’s rather striking the amount a freshly engaged couple can receive for free. Do you think we could manage a house?”

Her face softens, “But, Nik, when you do find some wonderful, pretty girl to propose to, for real, promise me it’ll be to a girl I can like. I should hate to loose you to matrimony, the way I’ve lost my own brother.”

“i’m convinced your brother would take poorly to just about anything these days.” nik’s expression soured at aurelia’s words, as if he resented the very thought. there was little one could say or do to convince him of charles having his sister’s best interests at heart; au contraire, he seemed intent on ridding himself of her as soon as humanly possible. it was a shame he couldn’t see, let alone appreciate his sister’s qualities for what they truly were.

flecti, non frangi. never before had nik met a woman truer to her own self even in the light of scandal than the one on his arm. and for that she was, quite plainly spoken, one of his most trusted friends.

“a house? why, here’s me thinking we’ll just inhabit rooms at your brother’s estate to ensure he’ll get a proper picture of what marital bliss is supposed to look like. now that would put a dent in his plans, i’d imagine.”

nik knew he should have expected the tone of their conversation to shift from teasing to something gentler at some point, although he found himself surprised by the way aurelia chose to approach the topic of marriage so earnestly. such sincerity, while not necessarily hard to come by, wasn’t a look he’d seen her wear very often before.

“quite right! i’d hate to end up like your brother.” he couldn’t offer her comfort, couldn’t pretend to know what it was like to lose a family member to an unsuitable marriage and by god, nik hoped he never would have cause to grieve such a loss.

“how fortunate i have no plans on settling, then. we’ll have plenty more time to wreak havoc on polite society together.” his hand clasped over hers in an unspoken assurance, his teasing smile subsiding into a warm, somewhat boyish grin. “speaking of which, isn’t the sun just blazing? i suggest we seek refuge inside.”

[ end? ]

#ladyaurelia #001: aurelia merchant.#001: beginnings.

alexandremortier·:

“You seem more apologetic about my sisters than my brother. How many siblings do you have?” He must have them, no one else would react that way because no one else understood the intensity of a sibling bond, the way that you could want to strangle them one day, but would be really and truly willing to strangle someone else on their behalf by the time the sun had set.

Grinning widely at the stranger in what was more than just a simple return of his expression, Alexandre rolled a shoulder as if to let the compliment slide from him like water from a fowl. Alexandre didn’t think it necessarily took a keen mind, but art was easy for him to understand in a way that certain other things were not.

Isabeau said that music spoke to her as clearly as any sentence and Jacques thought that cogs ticking away made sense. Alexandre couldn’t say the same on either count.

“People tend to project onto art. We take our own experiences and habits and we use those to understand what we see, it’s how we deal with a lot of things. If you see a man with clasped hands, is he giving thanks or asking for mercy?” The answer of that question likely told you something about a person’s mental state.

“All of my family is interested in different things, my mother said the important thing was that we had skills and knew how to apply them. I’m sure you have your own talents as well, even if they aren’t in arts. Which is fine, every artist needs a muse, or a critic, or someone to give them praise.”

Or maybe Alexandre was simply skillful at knowing the roles that other people played.

“I’d be happy to give one. Care to ask a question, or should I just start talking? I’ve been told I’m very good at that.” Alexandre said, flashing another smile.

“i do. a brother, that is, no sisters,” he replied, omitting the fact that ernest was technically just a half-brother, and a legitimate heir at that. but they were still related by blood and where their family ties might have failed them, they’d forged their own bond which had, in the past, and continued to withstand the test of time. a fond smile tugged at his lips at the idea of it, the painting momentarily forgotten. “i assure you i speak the truth when i say he’s more trouble than fifteen siblings could ever hope to be.”

which wasn’t a far-fetched statement; he imagined among fifteen siblings, he’d find some that would prove to be less troublesome than his treasure of a brother. still, nik wouldn’t want it any other way.

he turned to face the other man whom he had been observing with a curious expression as he spoke. there was something truthful at the core of this; the idea that one would project to make the puzzle pieces fit in a way that aligned with one’s view of the world. but how odd, nik surmised quietly to himself, to discover a sense of belonging in a place that exhibited paintings when he himself possessed no artistic bone in his body. how strange and how contradictory.

“you speak like an alienist,” he said after a moment of contemplation, lingering on the last word as he felt it reverberate through the silence. cocking his head to the side, he eyed the other once more; this time more openly but with the same sense of innocent curiosity. “perhaps that’s what every artist is, to some degree,” he mumbled absent-mindedly, eyes trailing back up to examine the painting once again.

there was something easy going about this man; something that didn’t need to preen or boast but that existed, quietly and proudly, unconfined and hidden in plain sight. nik had scarcely seen such reassurance; for most, such qualities were a performance and like any good performance, it required an audience. look at my mask, they would demand. don’t i wear it well?

he grinned. “oh, do start talking,” he paused, as if trying to word his thoughts, or weighing up whether to even let slip what he was thinking. “i can’t be the only one with things to project.”

#alexandremortier #001: alexandre mortier.#001: beginnings.#i'm the worst #i made this longer AND i shed tears while doing it #this is all entirely ur fault

ernestpembroke·:

sarah-st-john·:

Not even halfway through the evening, and Sarah found her initial shyness quite replaced with her usual attitude when chivvying about cats, goats, and assorted stubborn-minded family members at social events. She had just deposited a chattering group of guests from the hallways into the front parlor (all the better to clear the way for Mr. Butler and his army of servers to the dining room, oh!) when two of the gentlemen already there caught her eye.

Well, one of them for sure.

She brightened, quickly heading over to exclaim, “Oh! Lord Pembroke, is it! How lovely to see you again. We did not end up painting the flowers at all, but I think the white is quite nice next to all this gold, is it not? And …oh! You are… you are Mr. Éclair, from Almack’s, are you not?”

Drat, for of course the gentleman had a name that was not the one that had tumbled out. She coloured, then rapidly said, “If it is flowers that interest you, Lord Pembroke, there are some preserved yellow chrysanthemums in the curio cabinet over by the harp? And, uhm, Mr. …”

She had forgotten his name. She was mortified.

“Sir,” she managed to squeak, “I think your cravat might be a little crooked; there is a large mirror on the mantelpiece that might serve? Oh, I beg your pardon, I believe I am being called away.”

She beat a hasty, if embarrassed, retreat.

[OOC: Not the table but the cabinet, and not the vase, but perhaps some self-reflection? Up to you whether you will take Sarah’s suggestions.Roll for round two and reply here, before posting link in the Discord.]

-

Guest / Invite No.12 / Front parlor / Roll: 6

“You’re hilarious,” Ernest responded dryly with a roll of his eyes, letting out a huff as he slammed the drawer shut. “And I don’t know about that, Effingham really doesn’t seem so clever to me. I’m sure it’s somewhere equally as obvious as a table.”

He was stopped short when Sarah approached them and he grinned at her, recognizing her at once. So this was the party she was helping prepare for. It slipped his notice but now that he looked around, he did see that the flower arrangement was the one they had discussed. “It does look rather lovely-” pausing, he gave his brother a look with a raised eyebrow.

After she was well enough out of earshot, Ernest walked over to the cabinet. “She’s peculiar,” Ernest said, not unkindly. Such phrases were a compliment coming from Ernest. “Mr. Éclair?” He looked over his shoulder with a smirk as he pulled open the cabinet doors.

his own expression had relaxed slightly, and he was about to make another retort, when a loud voice suddenly cut through the air. the wisp of a woman nik had met at almack’s was seemingly participating in tonight’s scavenger hunt as well and it appeared as though she had made the acquaintance of his brother.

“i reckon she’s the strangest woman london has seen in a few years.” his lips curved into a lopsided grin when he glanced over to ernest after she’d made her escape. “mr. éclair has a fine ring to it. perhaps i should assume it as a moniker for when i publish a book and dedicate it to the woman whose name i never caught.”

nik straightened his shoulders when he felt his neck growing sore. poor posture and all that nonsense never did make much sense to him, even as a youth. “do you believe they’d hide something by the fireside?” he queried, legs carrying him to the mantelpiece which the lady had pointed out.

#ernestpembroke #002: ernest pembrooke.#sarah-st-john #the effing egypt party

ernestpembroke:

He smirked a little and considered it a few seconds, glancing contemplatively at a chair near the sofa. No, he didn’t want to sit and that was clear but still he stomped his foot and threw back his head dramatically as he made his way over and plopped down. “Well you’re no help! I’m dreadfully bored.”

He brought his feet up into the chair, puffing on his pipe again to keep it lit. “When I decided to join this season I didn’t realize it would be all on my shoulders to keep it interesting, you know.” In other words, he didn’t know he’d have to stir up scandal on a daily basis just to stay entertained, which was really his own fault for being so tired of society in the first place. It was no wonder he was bored, his baseline had become shocking people.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes that always showed itself just before he gave his brother a good ribbing. “How on earth did you stay entertained here before I joined you? You must have been miserable, is that why you wrote me all those letters?”

the tiniest, tiniest part of him latched onto that reply, as if it were some kind of challenge, one he wanted to scowl at but effectively couldn’t. he shouldn’t – he didn’t – care about entertaining his brother. not at all; he did a very fine job of presenting himself to others without anyone’s aid and for nik’s part, he intended to keep it that way. ernest’s presence in london meant that all eyes would be drawn to the heir which would give him some much needed room just to breathe.

“why? you don’t mind, do you?” nik asked, as his smile sharpened slightly, transforming into a smirk. it was entirely too easy to be engulfed by ernest’s moods; their father would arguably call him mercurial and easily distracted although to nik, he’d always been steadfast in ways others wouldn’t even begin to consider. as such, ernest was also steadfast in what he chose to do—stirring up scandals, for one thing.

“flattering yourself, are you?” he gave a light laugh, feeling no shame at having his intentions spoken out loud so whimsically. was he going to hand over victory so easily, though? “weren’t you the one to complain about a lack of, hm, how’d you put it? exciting stimulation? country life has never suited you, ernest.”

#ernestpembroke #001: ernest pembrooke.#001: beginnings.

ernestpembroke·:

Guest / Invite No.12 / Front parlor / Roll: 6

@devilsmood

“Honestly, a scavenger hunt?” He murmured to his brother, rolling his eyes. He was smiling though, clearly at least a little amused by the activity, though unwilling to admit it. “Mine says a quartzite carved lion cub, what about yours?” Leaning over, he peaked down at Nik’s invitation and made a little hmph in response. “Yours sounds far more interesting than mine, why do you get the goddess? I bet Effingham did that on purpose.”

He smacked the invitation against his hand, searching the room for some wine. Spotting a table, he made his way over and picked up a glass. “I suppose if we’re going to do it… We may as well start here.” Taking a sip, he tucked the invitation under his arm and opened the drawers of the table, checking to see if there was anything of note hidden inside.

“i don’t know about you,” nik drawled, his eyes naturally drifting towards his brother again as he observed the way mirth settled across his features in spite of his dismissive words, and his lips curled upwards at the idea of effingham purposefully choosing to vex ernest. “but the lion cub seems an excellent fit for you.”

invitation still in hand and only half-heartedly entertaining the idea of this scavenger hunt, he let out at a sigh and didn’t respond immediately. instead, he kept looking out through the window, his long fingers drumming against the invitation. it seemed like ernest would need to have enough enthusiasm to last them both through tonight's events. “that’s far too obvious. give effingham and his wife more credit.”

he shifted to peek into a vase on a nearby table. “i hardly think they’d bother with such an elaborate scheme if all could be solved on one’s first attempt.”

#ernestpembroke #002: ernest pembrooke.#the effing egypt party #siblings!!!!!!!!!

violentwavesofemotion-deactivat

Asklepiades, tr. by Willis Barnstone, from Greek Lyric Poetry; “Didyme,”

#mind. | to thine own self be true.

alexandremortier:

“Do you often worry about boring people you’ve just met?” Alexandre remarked, one corner of his mouth tugging into a teasing smile.

Was the other perhaps new to the season? A little late, but it was possible that Alexandre had simply missed him among all the others that seemed to come and go. While Alexandre did his best to find all the worthwhile connections that he could, accidents did happen, some people slipped through the cracks, and what better time to make up for that than in that moment?

“I do. And I have two sisters, so our mother has always had a difficult job in keeping track of us. I’m the only one that cares about art, however.” Alexandre confessed with a smile, although it was more accurate to say that he was the only one interested in this sort of art. Isabeau enjoyed music, after all, and the other two, well… it was fine, Alexandre was creative enough for the both of them. Best to keep Margot away from paint.

Humming, Alexandre nodded in acceptance of the answer, nodding as he stepped closer. “So that’s what you see, but what about what you don’t see? Why do you think there’s something that needs to be explained to you?”

That was the confusing part. He was reading into the painting, apparently had an idea of superstitious and had paid attention to the light, so it was obvious he was looking for meaning, but was there a specific meaning he was searching for?

“two sisters? my condolences,” nik murmured, still lost in his own thoughts while his gaze swept across the painting once more. the other was right, wasn’t he—nik was looking for something and he didn’t even know it. how laughable; if that was art, he’d like nothing more than to return to his dusty bookshelves.

what was the point of attributing meaning to something that could very well hold none? if the artist was committing an image to eternity, shouldn’t it be their vision, not any arbitrary bypasser’s, that was supposed to shine through?

good heavens, he was overthinking this, wasn’t he?

“that does sound like it would require a… keen mind, if you will.” nik tore his gaze away from the painting, thus allowing himself to scan the other man more closely before cracking a grin, “you make a fine point. i have read that art is the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.”

he didn’t tell the other that he’d considered it a foolish notion, and had dismissed it just as quickly. seeing as the stranger appeared to have a better grasp of art, it felt simply impolite to be so needlessly crass about his lack of understanding.

“my family was devastated by my lack of artistic skills, even as a youth.” the pleasant smile didn’t falter, not even when he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of near puzzlement. this wasn’t his speciality and he found no fault in freely admitting to it. “suppose i need an explanation—would you care to give one?”

#alexandremortier #001: alexandre mortier.#001: beginnings.#ART FRIENDS UNITE #if alex makes this happen i'm giving u my firstborn

ladyaurelia:

“I promise you need not worry about me ever stepping foot in a convent, my friend,” Aurelia reassures him, with the subtle shake of her head. “To live in a such an austere manner would be fate worse than death, for me.” For all her desperation to wed and to be free of her current situation, the very thought of losing herself (to marriage or to God, for that matter) was remarkably frightening. Perhaps, in a way she had condemned herself to trading one misfortune for another, but that did little to quell her desire for a joyous, full life.

It was a blessing and a curse to seek after such a thing. To ache for something with no guarantee of it’s existence. She was far too old, too experienced with the ways of the ton to know that not all others sought the very same.

Joy, excitement, passion– they often seemed to come second to things like modesty and decorum. In a sea full of iridescent pearls and the occasional sparkling diamond, Aurelia had always been something of a ruby, a stain of rogue color against flawless backdrop. It’s why she gravitated to the other colorful gems of the ton– the emeralds, the sapphires, the amethysts. The people the sparkled and glimmered on the edges of society– unflinching in their color and boldness.

It was fair to say that Nicholas had always been one of those people. That rare breed of person that embraced, rather than shied away from devilry and disorder that made life worth living. For that alone, he would always be dear to her.

“Oh, now that would be quite a sight to see,” Aurelia says, her lips pulling into an easy grin, as she imagines returning to her brother with a shiny, new ring on her finger, only to reveal Nicholas as her intended. “I should think you should do it, if only to see that vein in his forehead, finally pop, not to mention, you’d have the pleasure of seeing me as rather ravishing bride,” she teases good-naturedly, as she fluttered her lashes in a rather exaggerated manner.

aurelia was the sort of woman who grew both lovelier and more reckless with age and while the smile she gave him made her positively radiant, at this point in their friendship he could see and correctly interpret the signs of temperance, as rarely as she ever seemed to display them. for ladies such as herself, the rules of their society were a never-ending entrapment; damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

it was admirable she still possessed the energy to chafe against those invisible chains and one among many reasons as to why he held her in high esteem.

nik allowed his lips to curve into a mysterious smile as he watched her grin at the idea. it would be scandalous indeed, enough so to warrant her brother’s wrath were such a pipe dream to become reality. he would, nik was rather confident, expire of the shock alarmingly fast. the image of it had his lips curling into a devilish smile.

“i shall fetch a ring immediately.” the words were spoken in half jest and half seriousness, the latter largely thanks to nik’s strong dislike of charles. however aurelia and he managed to share the same set of parents was utterly beyond nik; he’d never met another set of siblings who were so awfully different from one another.

“you’re well and truly on your way to becoming the devil in person,” nik said, sounding deucedly innocent and earnest while he turned to give her a slow, liquid grin. “imagine the shock were i to drop down on one knee right this instant in front of all these people.”

#ladyaurelia #001: aurelia merchant.#001: beginnings.#honest to god i tried making this shorter LMFAO

mmthorne:

It was not often that Emmeline met someone willing to hold her gaze. People in the Ton were often surprised by her, unsure how to handle someone who so unabashedly treated them as if they were an oddity to be studied. Those who visited her to seek her services… well, they were uncomfortable before they even walked through the door, her staring was not going to make them less so.

Not this man, however, this man seemed to take it in his stride, almost as if he had been expecting it. How curious.

He claimed she had seen straight through him, but if that was truly the case she would have no reason to still be speaking to him. “I do hope that is not true! I should be very disappointed if it was that easy to figure you out.”

One part of his musings struck her, his treatment of happiness as a scarce resource, one to be caught. “Do you not find many opportunities to take your happiness then?

She could not avoid the image it raised of happiness behaving like sand, slipping through their fingers quicker that they could scoop it up. She was unnerved by how close to home that image was.

“Not at all. Although I would be nervous you will be quite disappointed with my taste.” This apparently was not enough to deter her as she began moving through the gallery, leading him to a piece she already had in mind (although she had not discovered it on this trip. “I have always been partial to landscapes, portraits just disappoint me, I am yet to discover an artist who can truly capture a person, we move to quickly, in so many minute ways.”

She had stopped in front of a work by Richard Wilson llyn-y-cau. “Where that work left me unsettled this one make me feel… insignificant. That a artwork can be this breath taking it makes me wonder how it would feel to see the real thing.”

“was it? oh dear, i am clearly losing my touch.”

nik eyed the woman for one second longer than she probably would have liked, tilting his head as sparks of curiosity were slowly replaced by a more subdued sort of amusement flashing across his features. she was a pleasant conversationalist, with an unexpectedly sharper wit than he would have been led to believe had they met under different circumstances. nik once again couldn’t help but wonder how such a lovely creature could bear any sort of connection to—alas, he really didn’t want to spoil his own mood by thinking back on less pleasant encounters.

at her question, nik pondered for a moment while he considered answering in the affirmative, but then choosing to breeze past his unease with an honest, if simple statement. “i take them where i find them,” he responded cryptically, with a wave of his hand.

“i’m beginning to think you’ve quite strong opinions about a lot of things, miss thorne.” he turned to her, a wry smile tilting one corner of his mouth, before returning his attention to the piece she’d been so determined to show him.

something about the way she spoke about portraits, nik thought, felt oddly… rushed. not that he’d ever met a lady who didn’t complain about the necessity of sitting still for hours on end just for one’s likeness to be captured on canvas. “is it the idea of being confronted with one’s own mortality, then, which leaves you to dismiss the idea of portraits so readily?”

as they came to a halt in front of a painting of the lake of llyn-y-cau, on the mountain of cader idris in north wales, he lifted a brow before looking over at her. it was a truly uncultivated scenery, but sublime regardless even if her choice caught him by surprise. nik gave her a lopsided grin. “your taste does you credit. may i ask why this piece in particular?”

#001: emmeline thorne.#mmthorne #001: beginnings.

conradmowbray:

Conrad chuckled, leaning back in his chair and draining the contents of his cup in one fell swoop. “By the time that happens my task will be complete, and I will be free to indulge in even the most repellent of my vices.” He set the glass down with a definitive clink, and motioned to the attendant for more. How many had that been? Perhaps the answer was hidden somewhere in his response to Nicholas, the looseness of his tongue an easy indicator.

“One would imagine,” Conrad concurred, “I think he rather enjoys–” torturing me, the rest of his response was cut short by the appearance of staff member who poured a glass, and was promptly waved away. “Delegating,” he said instead. “And who knows dear Arthur better than me, hm?” There were the unspoken reasons too, the matters he kept close to his chest, much closer than a hand of cards.

“Don’t be absurd. Deal.” He took another look at his hand. Damnit to hell. “And what of you, Nicholas? You’ve suddenly decided to settle down and become an honest man? I wish you luck in finding a woman that’ll take you.”

nik leaned back in the leather chair, regarded his drink with a thoughtful expression as he swirled it about, and then announced pointedly, “you sound altogether too pleased by the notion.”

certainly the duke of norfolk’s reasoning for such a scheme could only be of a more practical nature: any girl would find happiness in marriage to a wealthy and titled gentleman. it was what a season in london was all about, after all.

he wondered if the man across from him had been so easygoing when the matter had first come up.

nik took a leisurely sip, watching conrad over the rim of his glass, then said, “my brother has it in his mind to settle down this year as well. i’m here to ensure he doesn’t rush into it.” unspoken remain the worries that accompanied most of his thoughts these days; they had no place in a conversation like this and especially not as he was eyeing his options: perhaps he ought to fold or they’d be sitting here all day long. with the ongoing heat, a more preferable alternative than going out, he concluded silently.

he smiled then—a small, knowing sort of smile—then added, “such confidence you inspire in me! perhaps in another three seasons or so some charming angel will take pity on me.”

at that, he leveled a frank glance directly at conrad’s face. “and what of you?”

#001: conrad mowbray.#conradmowbray #001: beginnings.

tonyofledeclune:

“I did! It was quite the event. Within 24 hours I had the ship I was captaining declared unseaworthy!” Perhaps he should be ashamed of that fact, but he couldn’t bring himself to be so. The event had been brilliant fun, and all had worked out for the best in the end.

“I think I did not realise how much I had missed it! Getting out on the ocean, getting into trouble! It was nice to see that I could still get that feeling in London!”

He would be lying, however, if he claimed that it felt the same. The Thames would never be the ocean. “This is terrible to admit, but part of me wishes they’d let us sail the broken barge - I miss having to work my way out of trouble, of not being afraid to preserve, even when things get difficult.”

“I know to do so would not have been fair on everyone else who simply came along for a enjoyable trip but… I cannot help but miss it.”

despite himself, nik laughed.

he didn’t come to london under the illusion that he’d be making many friends and after all he’d read (and heard) about other members of the ton, it seemed best to lay low until the rule of lady whistledown had blown over in the hopes it’d leave him unscathed. but he allowed that it probably wasn’t fair to judge a man based on what was said about him.

“no, no,” he said quickly, looking terribly interested and not a little bit amused, “do continue. so you sailed the ocean before, do i have you right on that?”

the thought was fascinating, as little as it meant to him. nik had never been at sea anymore than he’d been to war; all things he could live happily without.

“it’s not terrible at all,” he said with great feeling, shooting him a cheeky, sideways look. “it does sound like a great deal of fun. to my unending disappointment, london is anything but.”

nik remained silent for a moment, slowly turning his head to watch tony, search his expression for something he didn’t quite know himself maybe. “i can’t imagine how constricting it must feel for one who has experienced the vast openness of the sea.”

#tonyofledeclune #001: tony fraser.#001: beginnings.

emptycharms:

“It’s part of my contract,” she responded calmly. “If the boatman is busy, I get the pleasure of snapping up the souls bound for hell. I should have scented you ages ago, but alas,” here, she gestured to the perfumed soaps and lotions around her, “your particular brand of stink was masked.” Her smile was overly broad and did not reach her eyes, her nose crinkling in a way that might look adorable to a passerby, masking the tension in her spine. The two had not crossed paths in ages, but it was clear that the way they detested one another had not faded with that time, nor with the distance. There was something about Nik’s attitude that got under June’s skin in a way few else could –– perhaps it was his inability to agree with anything, even when one was clearly right. She could be conversing with someone about the particular robin’s egg blue shade of the sky, and then there he would be, sidling up to inform her that if she were to look just a bit more carefully, she’d be able to see that it was in fact cerulean, but of course, she could be forgiven for her mistake given that he had such a better vantage point than she. In fact ––– June was rather certain that had happened, a number of years ago, and her blood began to boil.

It had occurred to her, once, that this sort of reaction was likely exactly why he liked to argue with her so, and if she only remained stoic and unfazed in his presence, he would tire of her and move on. But then, she’d also seen him needle and argue at least a dozen other people in her lifetime for no reason other than seeming to enjoy the thrill of an argument, and held no allusions that she was special. Was that an excuse for her to feel less guilty about continuing to unleash her fury? Maybe. Was it working? Far too well.

She lifted the bottle the seller had been keen to describe as foreign and oriental, giving it another smell, partially hoping that if she ignored him, Nik would simply disappear into the ether. Then he spoke, and she nearly choked on her startled, aggravated laugh. “Then perhaps I will take both,” she said, whirling in place to take his hand and deposit both vials of perfume into his palm, letting go immediately and fighting the urge to wipe her own palms on her skirt as she did. “Since everyone knows any suitor worth his salt would be begging me to allow him the chance to shower me with gifts.” Her brow raised.

“you must have done a very good job of courtship to get none of your suitors to accompany you,” he replied smoothly, innocently arching a brow at the woman while he momentarily contemplated dropping the bottles she’d shoved into his hands just to draw more eyes to their argument—then decided against it after catching the seller’s stern glare thrown his way. nik enjoyed a good battle of wits but wherever it concerned june croft, irritation was perhaps the more accurate word to describe their interactions.

one had to appreciate her sense of the dramatic, especially when it resulted in such impressive manipulation of the people around her. it was a talent he’d seen her cultivate for far longer than nik cared to admit.

“tell me, miss croft,” he asked, one corner of his lips curving into a mocking half smile, “are you remaking yourself in a more lovelier image? perhaps in light of a certain viscount’s presence?”

she’d always reminded him of a lion, fierce and predatory, filled with restless energy and not at all like the charming woman described to him on so many occasions. her hair, by contrast, was dark, hovering in that curious state between dark brown and black, and she wore it peculiarly, defying convention by keeping it in braids or hairstyles that weren’t typically seen on ladies of the upper class. she was tall, for a lady, although not overly so, with a charmer’s grace and a face that was just imperfect enough to be pleasing, rather than delightful.

in short, she could be everything a man could want in a wife if it wasn’t for the fact that she was detestable. have you made her acquaintance?, a clueless lord would ask and he’d give a bland smile in return. far too well, one could say.

nik heaved a sigh through nearly gritted teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching; to think he’d stumble across both june and kit in london at the same time was a most draining prospect indeed. but the realization of this came with one important detail: it wasn’t just he who had an axe to grind with the honorable viscount dartford.

“all this fuss over one broken engagement? how… sentimental of you.”

#emptycharms #001: june croft.#001: beginnings.#J. CROFT | SIGNIFICANT BOTHER.#LOVE TO HATE U MEGGIE

ernestpembroke:

@devilsmood

Ernest was in one of his moods, the one where he couldn’t be talked into sitting still for even a moment. He was pacing, bringing his pipe to and from his lips, breathing in that rotten tobacco in between every rambling word. What he was rambling about was unknown, it was the sort of scattered nonsense he sometimes spewed when he was especially bored and had nothing else to say. Literally, it was nonsense, a sort of game he would play with himself and his brother where he’d try to make words string together into something so nonsensical that it was entirely meaningless. It was good for a laugh from time to time but mostly he used it to fill the silence when he had nothing more interesting to say.

“So anyway, then I put the drawing room above the air and–” he stopped, turning his gaze onto his brother, no longer pacing. He was never good at being deadpan so a smirk quickly showed itself. “You’re terribly rude, are you even listening? This is all quite important, I assure you.”

nik, who had been indulging in a habit he couldn’t shake well into adulthood—tipping his chair drunkenly on the back two legs—continued observing ernest’s ramblings and mercurial movements with an expression caught somewhere between fondness and annoyance. the former because it was ernest and for all the nonsense he spewed, nik was well versed in the art of just tuning out the bits that didn’t make sense to him until something comprehensible escaped his brother’s mouth, and the latter because it was still nonsense at the end of the day. ernest could very well stand to invest his time in more worthwhile pursuits but speaking such thoughts into existence would mean nothing more than beating a dead horse and nik’s time could be better spent doing other things as well.

“now you’re interested in your audience?” he said with a snort as he slouched into the sofa and propped his ankle over his knee, watching the other across the drawing room with a slow grin catching on his lips. “come and sit for a minute, will you? all your pacing is terribly distracting—”

#ernestpembroke #001: beginnings.#001: ernest pembrooke.#BROOOS

lcdyofcobham:

July 1800 Early Afternoon Weston House Closed starter for @devilsmood

☩ ⸻⸻ Sophia studied the needlepoint that she was working on with a furrowed brow. There had been an idea in her head when she had initially started. Now, however, the idea looked ridiculous. Unfortunately for her, she was too far gone in the work to turn back, and she let out a sigh.

Before she could complain to her 4 legged friend, who was currently dozing in the gleam of the hot summer sun, her butler Regis walked into the sitting room and cleared his throat. Her hazel eyes lifted to see him standing in the doorway with the same look of distain that had been etched in his features since the first time she’d met him. “A caller is here, madam. A Mr. Brooksbank.” His tone seemed resigned.

Brooksbank? How interesting.

Sophia offered him a tight lipped smile and nodded, “Thank you Regis, have him sent in and please have some tea and sandwiches sent up as well.” it wasn’t often that she got callers, aside from the few people she was closest with in the Ton.

Carefully, Sophia placed her needlework in a basket beside her chair and stood, awaiting her caller.

truly, he didn’t know what had compelled him to call on the dowager countess.

it was entirely too possible that he was acting out of a misplaced sense of morbid curiosity—she was henrietta’s cousin, after all, and from what little he knew, decidedly different from her at that as well. nik couldn’t claim to boast more knowledge about sophia weston beyond that. most details on a person’s personality were either picked up through means of idle gossip or conversation.

“lady weston!”

(it was a mixture of boredom and perhaps a dash of something else that led to him pursuing the latter option. that something else being a certain madame’s latest column and his ensuing curiosity about something he by no means had any business prying into.)

“we’ve never had the pleasure. i do hope you’ll extend me the courtesy—” his polite smile slid straight into a grin, “—of forgiving my manners. i come here seeking advice.”

which was the whitest lie he could give in the presence of someone who looked at him with such unassuming eyes; indeed, quite nothing like her scheming little cousin.

#lcdyofcobham #001: beginnings.#001: sophia weston.#screams!!! i'm sorry for taking so long pls execute me when this happens again

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