The Performance of Theo Sharpe’s Life
The young man was not only skilled at his trade, but skilled with his words. A persuasive and charming player of the good ol’ verbiage.
The disgraced old Baron MacUmber, with his 200 year old lineage to the highlands still held against him. Dirty gael. The pirate. The radical. The heartbreaker. The day he finally left the Ton was the most relieving day of his life.
Theo and him got on well when the Baron was about town, ranting about classism and eating the rich from his soap box, buying his fellow radicals food and wine with the money he made from his own businesses. Other than treating his good friends and lovers, and their good friends and lovers, he detests lavishness just for the sake of it.
Theo finds him in the perfect spirits to explain, “I have found the love of my life, and I need your help to get into a Masquerade ball...”
The Baron’s eyes light up-
“...on Mayfair.” Theo finishes.
“What?!” The Baron bursts out in his horse-laugh. “What are you doing trying to court a girl on Mayfair?”
“Losing my mind, sir.” Theo admits, with a soft humour.
“Rightly so...” The Baron sits there, waiting to find out that he is being jested with, but Theo’s face only gets more serious, and he continues to explain:
“I just want to have one evening in which I can walk into a ball, surrounded by nobility, and have none of it matter outside our masks. I want to walk through a crowd toward her, and ask for the honour of a dance with her...”
The Baron’s horse-laugh bursts from him once again, interrupting Theo’s romantic rambling.
“What’s the name, kid? Of her family. I need to know before I make the decision, because if they’re a group of cunts then absolutely not, but-”
“HA. HAHA. HAHAHAHA. Fine.” The Baron agrees.
The drunk Viscount Bridgerton and his drunk artist brother have found a very compfy, drunk home on a velvet couch, people-watching the party they only have the capacity to view from the side. But they are having great fun regardless.
They see a young man, strange to them, even besides the mask.
“I wonder who’s heart that tall, dark fellow is on his way to break...” Benedict comments.
“Or steal,” Anthony, still high on an extended honeymoon-phase with his own ladylove, says with an uplifting tone. “He is on quite a mission, isn’t he?”
“Let’s see what happens.”
[your choice of background music for this part]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCBbBfZKFxM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_XeUEoDEc00
Theo Sharpe can see Eloise Bridgerton through the crowd, and his heart feels like it is dropping and uplifting and beating out of his chest at the same time. He takes a glass of champagne, and downs the entire thing in one gulp.
Anthony and Benedict cackle from their couch.
Theo wades through the crowd of flailing drunk nobility and their many fabrics. With his final few steps towards her he breaks through into his new character, ready to give the performance of his life, projecting the temperament and manners of the most Lordly Lord of Lordington.
Anthony and Benedict are finding the journey of this stranger riveting, holding their breaths, ready for him to face an embarrassing rejection from their infamous sister.
“Good evening, Ladies,” Theo interjects, softly, but still so suddenly that Eloise almost chokes on her drink and begins coughing. Daphne pats her back, but Francesca is curious about the boy... “Are you alright, miss?” Theo asks Eloise, as if he did not know her.
She is horrified and astounded and full of ecstatic joy. “Yes, yes, I am alright, how are you? What... are you...” She has no idea what to say to him. She must not already know him, but she also must not reject him.
“Theodor MacUmber, my Lady, and I have travelled from far away, across the room, from over there, to come over to here, to ask you if I may have the honour of knowing your name, and perhaps a dance as well, if you would like.” He offers his hand to her, in the most Lordly of movements.
Eloise is speechless, staring at him, unable to believe that this is really happening. When his letter read something along the lines of, “Do not be surprised if one day I find you at one of those obnoxious balls and ask you for the honour of a dance with you...” she thought he was joking.
Daphne and Francesca’s mouths are open and their eyes are widened at how awestruck their sister is.
Eloise snaps out of her state suddenly, falling all over herself to put her hand in his and say, “Eloise Bridgerton, my name, it is... sooo nice to meet you-” This comes out much more flirtatious than she intends.
“-Mr....” Eloise leans in towards him, with questioning eyes, trying to remember the fake name he gave her.
Her sisters are trying to not screech at each other.
“MacUmber, son of the Baron MacUmber.” Theo gestures to the Baron across the room, who is explaining to some confused young people that the royal family are actually lizards.
Anthony and Benedict have found this journey took a turn they did not expect, as they watch Eloise be.... into him?
Eloise leads Theo to the dance floor, and then she is thrilled as he lovingly pulls her to him, holding her firmly in his lead, as they begin a rather messy, perfectly imperfect waltz.
Daphne and Francesca run off to their Mother. They apologize for interrupting a conversation, but it is of the upmost importance, as she must witness Eloise happily dancing with a man she visibly fancies.
A gallery of Bridgertons gather to bear witness. They are blinded by their delight in seeing her smiling, laughing, and dancing with a young man. From their perspective, it seems to be love-at-first-sight for the both of them. Like two people who have been in love for years, meeting for the first time.
They do not know about the year of pining, the letters that were pages of words that never said enough to truly satisfied either of them the way his skilled hand on her waist and the gleeful squeeze of her hand on his shoulder are...
Eloise finds their eyes on them is embarrassing, but Theo tries to distract her with jokes and conversation. They are hyper-aware of their hands... modestly on each other, and actively trying to not pull in closer, or creep around too scandalously. They conclude that as long as they keep dancing, song after song, then nothing else had to matter, until they decided to stop.
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