MAJOR.

The Duke & Duchess of Marlborough

#duchess-marlborough #ralph :/

duchess-marlborough‌:

Even, just that. The gentlest shift in touch, skin against skin, or a lingering power of his sea-meets-sky gaze on hers, near-glowing against the faded boom of the night’s thunderstorm. Subtleties Isabel grappled with, herself, when unarmed, unmasked. However hard her mind willed her to ignore such a strange vulnerability, something about the night, just the two of them, exposed that foreign sensation into her stubborn conscience.

No. Isabel reigned tigress, once self-proclaimed to wrangle courtship’s relentless destruction path, to tame it for her own folly. It used to be such a game, when the feline could often predict what reduced foolish men to puddles. Ralph was anything but. Swept in this delicate night, she resembled more the puddle… her chemise even dripped from a thunderstorm her conflicted mind tempted Nature to create. Plush lips parted, just about to mutter his first name, stuck on the tip of her tongue when…

The clock’s evenly paced ethereal chime provided an insistent militarise march trooping steadily onward towards morning. Unsympathetic to Isabel’s silent pleas for a reprieve. For just an indefinite moment alone. Daylight rose too quickly, and with it the expectations of all: from the staff, attendants, onlookers, appointments, even strangers boring their curiosity-famished eyes on The Duke’s carriage as it moved from obligation to task. ‘London is a cruel mistress, isn’t she? She always reminds us, time stops for no bribe.’ She muttered, though insisting her haughty near growl returned to her words.

Slowly, she stood, careful not to lean too much onto him. Once upright, she paused, thumb grazed over his knuckles a moment. ‘Ralph…’ she said, slowly, cautious eyes trailing up his chest, back at him, ‘What if you didn’t retreat to your apartments tonight? What if I told you, you’re to stay here, with me, to combat the morning?’

whilst rising once more to his lofty stature, ralph’s skin bristeled in response to the soft caress she bestowed upon his knuckles, the intricate pad of her thumb raking across worn skin as his grip eased away --- though not completely. advising himself that it would be imprudent to remain in her chambers that evening, practicalities warred against rational thought, as if taking heed of the limpid shift that hung from razor thin shoulder blades, the decisively dampened linen displaying her form to the eventide breeze. the inevitable duress placed upon their marital bond as a result of the unresolved unfamiliarity between the two had yet to thwart the carnal bond, nor had his woeful experience in the colonies quenched the urges of his flesh. but, ralph could not stay ---- or rather, he would not permit himself to. the brief respite taken from ducal duties that evening would demand retribution on the morrow. although members of the ton would be sleeping off the ill - effects of their indulgences come morning, the remainder of london could not afford the luxury of behaving distrait. there would be petitioners, redcoats and mothers of lost soldiers in his foyer as early as soon as dawn sprawled across the sky, beseeching a moment of his time.

placing a fingertip underneath the refined angle of isabel’s chin, he lifted her face to regard him fully. lacking a dependable pretext to supply for his departure, he relied upon the single act that might convince her of his loyalty to her without provoking undue suspect. ❛ another night, ❜ ralph assured, lips descending upon her own to seal his guarantee with an amorous caress, palm moving upward to gently cradle her jaw. ❛ i do not expect you to wait forever, though it would be my utmost regret if you harbored... deceptive ambitions for this marriage, when the duty we are expected to perform has been unfulfilled. ❜ he glanced to her abdomen, the soft contours and swells of her hips visible beneath the dampened chemise.

mvrlborough‌:

─── ⊱ ⋆ ✧ ALICE WAS NOT CLOSE TO HER BROTHER FOR obvious reasons. sharing a father and not a mother with the man who was her half-brother, she was brought up slightly different although their values seemed to be similar. it was their personalities that were far from the same. ❝ may i remind you that we are in the melbourne residence, ralph? ❞ she smirked at his reference, though she didn’t want to speak anything but niceties of the hosts tonight. ❝ i enjoyed it… aside from the wailing, of course. ❞

azure eyes moved toward his sister with a slight crease forming in between his brows, not for the first pondering if there was any likeness to be had between them at all ---- and if he was a fool for attempting to unearth it time and time again. ❛ ‘tis his likeness, sister, not i whom holds any misgivings toward him, ❜ he assured, ❛ though i could have done without the overt exaltation of one benedict arnold ---- he is hardly fit to be considered one of us when his sole motivation to join our ranks was financial. i suppose that is something, given sheridan’s occupation, would remain unknown to him. ❜

#mvrlborough

hbclingbroke‌:

❛ that and much more, i assure you, ralph. ❜ though her features held a certain playfulness, her tone was naught but genuine. the years of their friendship and familiarity was something that was utterly cherished by harriet, their relationship spanning obstacles and hardships that no other could truly understand ––––– in fact, the notion was not lost upon harriet that it might just be ralph who knew her better than anyone. it was a thought that made her pensive for a moment, her gaze averting to her lap and then to her glass of sherry that she plucked hastily and supped greedily. such thoughts were pointless now. a sweet laughter pearled from her lips, her eyes rising skeptically to his own, ❛ ‘tis cruel to mock a woman on such things… besides, i hear that your wife far surpasses me for beauty and as such i fear you are in breech of your vow to me, do you recall it? ❜ she teased with a grin. ❛ some twenty years ago you made a promise to me that you would never marry anyone too beautiful for i feared i would become frightfully jealous. ❜

ralph confessed he paid little heed to the ton’s rumour mill, for it churned and swelled with egregious untruths, albeit he felt a qualm of pride within his abdomen at the mention of his wife’s ‘beauty.’ it was not love the duke and duchess felt toward one another, nor something even remotely resembling it as far as he was concerned, but the numerous expectations their engagement had been laden with had been thoroughly reaped in the short years they’d been married ----- and he would be a fool to deny that her charms had little to do with it. ❛ i’ll not deny that she is handsome, though to compare the two would be to discriminate between reynolds and gainsborough, turner and constable ------- a felony against the arts which i shan’t commit. ❜ he lifted his glass in salutation to harriet before downing the remaining swig of his sherry -- their closeness and the resemblance it bore to a night lost to regret not lost upon his head. ❛ you’ll forgive me, i hope, for i certainly took my time in marrying at all. ❜ ralph chuckled at his own antics, an ever-present fear for marital status plaguing him all the way to the altar, as he stood to replenish his glass. ❛ another? ❜

#hbclingbroke‌#sorry long

tabithagodwin‌:

“certainly she had no qualms about leaving the majority of my rearing to a governess but she’s on the hunt, you see. she would like to find me a husband and she has decided not to take any chances, adhering herself to my side ever since will cavendish had a change of heart.” she talked about the events as if they had happened to someone else or were the plot of an amusing play. it was much easier to ignore her hurt over the way society had come to treat her when she was able to look back on it from an outsiders point of view, as unhinged as it may seem. “don’t tell anyone sir but a life with the duke of devonshire would have been dreadfully dull. you’re quite lucky to have found a gregarious wife, then, as i have always thought one should seek a match who possesses traits that they lack themselves.” tabitha wasn’t a fool and she knew that in reality, marriage was about practicality and not about compatibility but she did crave someone that would make her feel whole and she hoped others had such luck.

❛ i fear a mother’s role is never done when it concerns fussing over her daughters -- whether ten and six or forty and six, ‘tis a parent’s duty and right to fret, exhausting though it may be upon the child. ❜ his words were wistful and assumed the gentle sage of his own mother who had passed long before tabitha’s time, no doubt. the duke then expertly pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth to keep from remarking further upon devonshire’s ‘change of heart,’ as lady godwin so flippantly described it, instead veiling his mouth by drawing a glass to his lips and sampling at a splash of champagne. ❛ indeed, i am doubly fortunate, ❜ ralph concurred, his words, if not contrived, then rehearsed at the very least. ❛ the duchess is a great blessing upon our family and i am convinced that she would be beside herself with joy to receive your witty demeanour --- that is, if your mother shall spare your company for a single afternoon. i may vow that you’ll return in one piece of that will ease her trepidation. ❜

#tabithagodwin

The Duke & Duchess of Marlborough

duchess-marlborough‌:

Isabel’s palm dredged over her face, chest rose and fell, failed to stifle an airy hitch of a laugh in shock of allowing her near pristine record of a lioness prowess to crack away before him with one swift swop. Her free arm flopped to the side, allowing her to lay flat on her back and peer up at him with an earnest half smile.’Tears due to the fact that despite blasted Sheridan aimed to make a mockery of you tonight, your mere presence still outshone all other men. I swear, even the actor who played your likeness- terribly, I should add, he even missed the timbre of your voice- felt weak in the knees by having to look you in the eye!’’ She wiggled her brow, aware of the tension hovering about the air from the moment the play commenced. It caused her stomach to ache, no matter how much she tried to make light of the night’s antics.

As he stooped to his knees, her slick hand slid into his, squeezing it gently, ‘How flattering, you think me so innocent, yet we’ve still so much to learn. Perhaps this was a form of wicked trickery, Ralph,’ she teased, cocking her head to the side as she sat up primly, face hovering near his as she shifted herself, ‘to coax you down here with me, hmm?’ Dimmed by night, stripped of all her exquisite fineries, free from attendants, Isabel felt daring, leaning in by his ear to mutter, ‘I believe it would only be fair to allow you the opportunity to try and outsmart me from here.’

his eyes remained intensely still as isabel spoke, expression softening and touched by the undisguised devotion she invested into deriding his caricature in sheridan’s work. each facet of the author and actor’s handiwork picked apart and ridiculed for his benefit as though the play were akin to prometheus ---- prodded day in and day out by an eagle’s beak. ❛ perhaps that has more to do with the glares the poor chap received from you than his weak stomach, ❜ ralph conceded with a light chuckle, eyes drifting to her honeyed hues and the untold depths glinting within, ❛ ‘tis not a look i strive to incur often, my own medusa. ❜

❛ if it is trickery than i am a willing fool ---- though you are the one at my feet, are you not?. ❜ his thumb pressed into the centre of her palm as she gripped him, smoothing against the bundle of nerves resting just beneath her dewy skin as isabel clambered into an upright position. granting an incredulous shake of his flaxen head, ralph protested in earnest, ❛ i fear only if i were to fall i would not be able to pluck myself up so gracefully. ❜ albeit his azure eyes shined with amused warmth, there was perhaps more truth to his words than his cool demeanour let by. his injured limb was increasingly less dependable and it aggrieved him to no end.

the clock struck another hour, and tides seemed to turn in a matter of moments. his impassive facade had reformed. ❛ come, ❜ he murmured, granting her hand a taught tug, ❛ the hour is late.❜

#my edit /#DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH

tabithagodwin‌:

tabitha recognized the man the moment he stepped onto the balcony. gossip in her circle was never-ending and plenty of the men had been bemoaning the tory military man who’d been afforded the title of a duke. “i have grown weary of my mother, your grace. the proper rules say she must chaperone me but i did think i would be free of her after twenty-six years.” she laughed, half in her glass already. it was so much easier not to feel pitied after some champagne. sometimes, tabitha felt as if she were the maiden and the society she’d been born into was the vampire, stealing her life-blood away with a kiss, trying to corrupt her soul and every so often she felt forced to hide from judging eyes and sharpened teeth.

“and you, your grace, is your lovely wife not missing your company or has the duchess not joined you at today’s social call?”

under traditional circumstances, the duke abstained from heeding gossip ---- wagging tongues seldom produced insightful speech and there was more than enough whispering on his behalf. yet one would be hard - pressed to tip toe around talk of tabitha godwin, the famously jilted fiancée of the duke of devonshire, who seemed to inspire both bouts of pity and distaste from society as a result of her inability to maintain the duke’s attentions. ralph had taken to the former, pity ---- her good standing now perpetually compromised. ❛ does she not trust you to the care of a patron, miss? it seems my sister was raised not by our mother but a governess. ❜

brows raise into a subtle display of surprise at the mention of the duchess, ❛ i’m afraid my wife is more sociable than i am -------- at least this evening. 'tis a wonder that my company without her is less desirable; i would feign hurt, but, i am not one to put myself on airs. ❜

#tabithagodwin

DUKE & DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH / BLENHEIM PALACE.

the atmosphere of the assembly rooms were, as usual, expectant. mothers twiddled their thumbs, their eyes lurching around the ballroom, awaiting the moment a gentleman asked their daughters to a dance. noblemen flicked the cards in their hands, serving them up across the gambling tables, loosening their cravats as tensions mounted and the temperature of the room soared ----- summer was in full swing, and london was expectant.

stepping onto the balcony, ralph grasped the flute of champagne in his hand, bowing his head in acknowledgement of the individual currently occupying the space. ❛ have you grown weary of the incessant chatter, or, perhaps, do your calves ache from the country dances? ❜

#lebonton.starter

hbclingbroke‌:

❛ but of course ! otherwise you would be suggesting i came here under false pretences. ❜ harriet grinned, bemused by his sly knowing look ––––– the man knew her too well, then again one could argue that the reason behind that was because they were one in the same. her sole attention grasped, harriet turned eagerly to her old friend, lips still curled in a playful simper; the proximity of their forms was not lost on harriet, they hadn’t been this close since, well… that night. his preceding question was not quite what she had been expecting, but then again harriet wasn’t entirely sure what she had been expecting. ❛ it went well, thank you for asking…they made me proud, it shouldn’t be too difficult to see them settled now. ❜ raising her hand to her brow, harriet brushed a curl back from forehead. ❛ oh i should very much adore that, ralph.. ❜ hands clasped together in amusement, ❛ …but you must defend me should his hands choose to wander and i vow to do the same for you. ❜ a melodic laughter pearled.

❛ believe you me, harriet, i cleave most ardently to the assumption that my engaging company is what endears you to me, false pretenses aside. ❜ the corners of the duke’s lips crease into a winsome grin, mouth once again caressing the rim of his glass as sherry washed over his tongue. marlborough so relished in the ease of their rapport; years of turmoil in the colonies, survived chiefly by dint of his sympathies for her husband and like - minded loyalists, warmed the duke to her captivating nature and fondness for the burnetts had taken foothold in his heart ever since. ❛ nonsense, i would hazard i am far from the bodach’s preference and regardless, one glance at you and the rest of almack’s peels away. ‘tis positively unjust to other women. ❜

#hbclingbroke

The Duke & Duchess of Marlborough

duchess-marlborough‌:

Fortunate, to be veiled by the tender dance of a tired candlelight flame and shroud the heat swelling across the back of Isabel’s neck. Enkindled by a mere caress of lips against knuckles, hand daring not to tremble, lingering to greedily surrender a beat. Before her hand smoothed down the side of her chemise. ‘What’s this I hear? A welcome? You know not what could occur once you provoke something in such a fashion.. It could be all too powerful.’ she whispered with a smirk, chords hoarse in the gentle hum of encompassing silence.

Heavy lidded gaze flickered in unison with the hypnotic starry candlelight, fleeting over his frame once more, until the gods demanded a crescendo. A flash of lightning, followed by boisterous thunder, only causing Isabel to let out a singular huff of a laugh to disguise a nervous shudder she did not know she was holding within her. ‘Are you afraid of a storm, Your Grace? Shall I have to protect you in your room tonight?’ she mused, brows bouncing with mischief, ‘I once collected fool’s hearts, so many stuffed into a box, which shriveled their strength and pride, rendering their owners useless - unable to toss a mere pebble.’ Isabel stepped over to the window, attempting to close it to no avail whilst the gap welcomed a steady spat of rain to slick the floor. ‘Perhaps the weather’s vengeance, a flood of ladies’ tears over you!’ Isabel called over another animated boom of Nature’s thunder, glancing back at him with a smug feistiness, only to slip - manner, grace, composure abandoned as she plopped to the floor with a startled yelp.

casting a look of disapprobation over his shoulder as he moved toward the window, a sonorous chuckle escaped the duke’s parted lips in response to isabel’s contentious quip. ❛ and what, pray tell, have i done to deserve such tearful vitriol? ❜ a dark - flaxen brow flickered upon the smooth face of his forehead as lips formed the subsequent remark, ❛ in light of sheridan’s work, any woman of repute would be running for the hills at this precise moment ---- of that i have no doubt. ❜

drawing the window closed with a deafening thump, ralph slid an ornate runner across the floor to absorb the puddle of rainwater seeping into the oak. his mind at the moment occupied, he did not witness with his own eyes, but rather caught the tail - end and could hear isabel collapse into a heap of limbs onto the ground --- graceless and maladroit, so utterly unlike herself, that it brought an amused glint to his eyes as he stooped to his knees to offer a hand. ❛ is it in your nature to fall to your feet before a man, your grace, or has the wine gone to your head? ❜

The Duke & Duchess of Marlborough

duchess-marlborough‌:

Daring fingertips burned, singed, as they lightly drifted over Ralph’s jawline, down the nape of his neck and rested on his collar before departing from him completely. As if Ralph radiated the very energy that could shock and electrify simultaneously– an unspoken restraint deepening the impatient ache within the new bride that dared to wade into the riptide, testing the lengths she could move him. Not Ideal? The duchess’s gaze flickered as they ripped from his holding gaze, roaming over him once more as her soft smile that perked her plumped lips twitched.

‘Don’t you even utter that-’ Isabel nearly growled, voice cracked before she could cease it from sounding resolute. Throughout her life, Isabel toed the line in all she was: a delicate dance with an unexpected twist like an opera show, the audience lapped up her performance. Years of this behaviour solidified her strength, her reputation, thickened the mask she clutched to in order to convince herself that she maintained an upper-hand. The wedding to a legendary warrior, well beyond her years in age and experience, ghost of the past, came unexpected… particularly a newly ranked duke, pained legged. The two of them were meant to be more like a fable than anything. And still, the people lapped up the tale, the animated facts of new aristocratic titles mixing with old marble- in this twisted heaven and hell they lived and breathed, together. In seclusion with her husband, Isabel struggled to conceal untameable human emotions. Allowing a pause, she muttered, ‘If a fortune-teller revealed who would take my hand one day, my old mind wouldn’t have imagined you. You’re a man who’s tempted fate time and time again and the more I see, from a playwright’s speculation to the scarce stories I’ve heard, to the gleam in your eye and the way you look at me - like that- the more I want to know about you.’ She halted, ‘Does that trouble you?’

the duke sensed that she was toying with him ---- traipsing a delicate fingertip across his bare skin as a babe caresses the porcelain of a new doll, all the while pondering what might provoke it to change form altogether. as the whiskey hues of her eyes shifted back and forth from his line of vision, darting away just long enough for a wry grin to form upon his lips, ralph rose a hand to sheathe hers with. isabel’s hand was delicate within his, though the filigreed jewel perched upon her finger, advertising their bond, remained cool to the touch as he drew it to his lips and brushed his mouth against her skin.

❛ not in the slightest, ❜ ralph remarked evenly, ❛ it would take a lot more than passion to trouble me, your grace ---- i welcome it. ❜ he punctuated his sentiments with an earnest squeeze of her hand before allowing it to return to her side. it was in the elision of this moment that the duke’s eyes swept around her chambers, aglow in the luminous amber of the candelabrum, swayed by the pitter - patter of rain sounding upon the roof that gradually grew into a tempo of great ferocity --- as though stallions pounding upon the window panes. ❛ is there something amiss with your window that it will not close, or have you grown weary of admirers throwing stones at it? ❜

#devcnshires #stop making people uncomfortable ralph

hbclingbroke‌:

lips caressing the rim of her glass, her gaze dipped towards ralph, the corners of her mouth curling in a conspiratorial simper. ❛ why, we host the most marvellous post-season soirée of course. ❜ after another sip of the sherry, harriet placed the glass upon the mahogany side-table before turning to face him a little more directly, all traces of her previous misgivings eradicated by the enthralling and nostalgic idea that had came to mind. ❛ just like we use to in philadelphia. ❜ reaching out, she took hold of his free hand and squeezed the appendage in great affection. tilting her head back, harriet laughed merrily at his quip, ❛ never, where else shall the excitement in my laugh come from ? and should the day ever arise that i care more about my damnable title more than fun, i implore you to smother me whilst i sleep. ❜ with a pat to his knee, harriet regretfully withdrew her touch, and settle back against the cushions to contemplate his question ––––– in truth, she had hardly given much thought about her husband. ❛ i cannot fathom any misgivings he would have, besides, i am heeding his advise to entertain myself. it was on his folly not to specify how and with whom i should entertain myself with. ❜

❛ what a gripping idea ---- one i presume you’ve just concocted at this very moment? ❜ ralph’s gaze lowered both slyly and knowingly, sparing harriet’s pride the blight of impeaching her motives outright as a grin curved his lips upward, masked behind the crystal grim of his glass. harriet was a woman with social ambitions that he could not fault her for when he shared in them himself. inspirited by a diverging thought, ralph promptly leaned forth and captured harriet’s sole attention, ❛ where are my manners? forgive me, i did not ask ---- how did your daughters’ season go? i trust they were the very cream of the crop. ❜ the duke recalled both daughters being pretty, esteemed ladies of the gentry, though now that they belonged to an ancient noble family he was certain their prospects had catapulted miles further. it was a mere unfortunate trick of fate that the families had not been bonded by a marriageable union, for ralph found no discernible shortcoming within them. ❛ in that case, you’ll join me at almack’s this upcoming week end. there is a charming new gentleman who speaks solely in tongues, which he employs specifically to apologise for his wandering hands. or, at least, that is what i presume he is saying. ❜

#hbclingbroke

devcnshires‌:

“Oh not at all.” He shook his head. “I was not at Coxheath over the summer, nor am I a military man so I cannot say that I have found too much to take offence at. Just some gentle ribbing perhaps.” Perhaps the only offense William could take was that it was not Sheridan’s finest piece of work, but even then it was superior to the work put out by some of his contemporaries and anything that had involvement from David Garrick was sure to be a hit regardless. “Truly, you must hold more of an opinion than that. Fear not, I’m not going to scurry over to the man and share everyone’s opinions with him.”

marlborough was not caught unawares by the duke’s confession --- it was now widely known that william had slinked from the duties of a career in the military, unlike his titled peers remaining in england out of loyalty to the isle... or rather, that is what rumours circling almack’s and white’s would suggest, though ralph seldom took heed of such tall - tales. ❛ ah, i see, ❜ he replied after a beat of silence, drawing a flute of champagne to his lips and lowering his voice to an intimidating octave, ❛ do you presume that having known these men i must resent sheridan’s work for satrising them? on the contrary, we are all in need of a little levity now and again, my lord. ❜

The Duke & Duchess of Marlborough

duchess-marlborough‌:

That. The deep, smooth pitch drifting into the velvet midnight silence of her room sparked a new reaction for Isabel that felt alarmingly, nearly… instinctive. A concoction of fluttering nerves, curiosity, perched on the cusp of revealing itself to her husband, when they were caught alone together, when the powder and feathers and attendants- standing fine porcelain still with their ears perked- vanished. She paused, looking him over, the man she was bound to. It was the wedding of the ages, her father ensured no expense, or attention spared, society ran amok with speculation. A rush, and amongst the flurry, Isabel found herself yearning to know more of the injured major who experienced such adventure, such darkness. Darkness of a war that hadn’t yet ended. The efforts and sacrifices satirised.

The flicker of the candlelight illuminated his chiseled features, and as she turned to face him she paused, a light hint of a slanted smile, far softer than any sly smirk or mischievous grin she’d predominantly expose, and she attempted to push a haughtier huff. ‘And yet she is also a guardian, and a weapon by Athena, and Hercules. Unlike Medusa, I much prefer to utilise my mystic powers through challenge of clever tactic. You have seemed to survive my gaze thus far, for that you might deserve a prize.’ She teased, smile fading as she stepped up to him, hesitating before tentatively moving her fingertips to brush some of his hair behind his ear. ‘The play provoked a fact. I stand before true courage, no matter how many jokes cluttered the content this evening. And, the play brought something to my mind I can’t shake. Did it pull you back to the New World’s shores, sitting there, watching it?’

he would contend that the duchess of marlborough’s charm was effortless, her grace innate, if he did not know the great lengths she went to in order to project a beneficial image for the dukedom. ralph was indebted to her in that regard, the somerset’s prestige had granted the sprouting alexandre family a great deal of credibility and standing in society ---- such things that wealth could not buy and infamy could not come close to imitating. he could not help but lend an ear to his words, his features thoughtful and pensive, amused and ostensibly pleased by her charming demeanour. ❛ i’ve already won the greatest prize in england, ❜ he replied smoothly, his deep and honeyed baritone gliding through the fissures of the fire crackling, as a smile made crooked his lips.

ralph kept himself from jerking away from his wife’s most soothing touch with colossal restraint ------- her fingertips deftly brushing a wave of flaxen hair away from his eyes, causing each nerve to stand alert and his spine to remain ramrod straight. the duke held few regrets in his life, though to be perpetually aggravated by the brutality he experienced at the hands of patriot rebels both anguished and chagrined his conscience. albeit, to respond to her delicately worded inquiry, ralph merely released a low - sounding chuckle, granting a leisurely shake of his head.

❛ no, my dear. sheridan is an accomplished playwright, but not an evocative one. ❜ if anything, the piece called to mind the need for london to champion and support their soldiers abroad. the war would not end favourbly without society’s consolidated efforts ---- if traitor colonists were half as divided in their fealty, the british loyalists would have prevailed years ago. his thoughts were promptly silenced by a subsequent concern, ❛ did it trouble you? i realise this marriage may not have been... ideal, for you, though i hope it is not my military career that aggrieves you. ❜

The Duke & Duchess of Marlborough

duchess-marlborough‌:

@majoralexandre

LONDON.

Night. The hum of the capital was not as boisterous with motion and noise once the glazed windowpanes swept open, and the grey clouds slicked the cobblestone streets with light rain. At this quiet hour, she could trick herself into believing the horses and carriage wheels were instead the rustling of the wind at Blenheim Palace, sheltered by green fields – though now her own estate shared with her husband was seldom visited, Isabel would remain a creature of the countryside. More nymph, running lightly through trails of hedges and flowerbeds, though her conscience would compel her to relish in the glow of London’s speculation.

Undressing was a ritual in and of itself, near holy, a struggled yet indulgent task inspirited for calm shift out character for the day. Dulling for the weight of the whispers hovering around her ears, the spark of strangers’ eyes on her profile, talking until her throat grew hoarse, the addictive banter and play of cat and mouse that those who drifted in her circle constantly dabbled. The aftermath of a play, and the tension in the room. Still, not quite yet at ease, a budding marriage still present at the forefront, her racing mind stuck on what Ralph felt about it all. The horrible things he had seen in the colonies. How starkly differed, his past and present, lingering in the air as she shed jewel after pin.

The young duchess shifted in her night chemise, hands caressing the fabric of her elaborate gown which sprawled on the armchair once more. Hearing the door creak open, not yet tearing her gaze from the fabric’s pattern, she laughed to who she believed to be her maid, ‘A little bird, Bess, told me that a caricaturist was sketching some of the play’s attendees for tomorrow’s papers…’ she called to her maid, ‘Do you think my likeness will channel Medusa? Turn the readers of such trivial gossip columns to stone? If so, I demand those shocked statues are immediately placed on my property.’ She teased.

the fulsome quantities of champagne drained at melbourne’s expense had successfully assuaged the feelings of antipathy sheridan’s work stirred among the crème de la crème of london society. for his part, ralph graciously permitted his love for the theatre to rout the rather superficial misgivings he felt toward the character who loomed heads above the other imitations and harnessed his dukedom as a ‘crutch’ -- alluding to the duke’s own injured leg and his appointment to the patrician following his return to the british isle. perhaps a distasteful allusion, yes, but amusing nevertheless to the audience and english comedy seldom shied from ridicule even in the most delicate of circumstances.

for a short while after returning to the marlborough’s grosvenor square residence, the duke took respite in a fastidiously upholstered armchair by the fireplace --- the fire burning cheerily within its grates, a dish of tea cooling atop the mahogany side table, and a well - loved sketch book sprawled across his lap: his pen remissly capturing the profile of a noblewoman who he’d caught a bracing glimpse of that evening.

when the hours seemed to whiz by and his eyes strained to impart the noblewoman’s visage, he resolved himself to retire to his chambers. pausing before the duchess’ door, ralph wrestled with himself; questioning whether or not he should share a word with her before retreating into his apartments for the evening. after all, the evening’s atmosphere had been, in a word, tense -- and they’d scarcely spoken more than a word of civility to each other during the carriage ride home. he rested his knuckles inaudibly against the oak panel before entering without introduction.

❛ i have no doubt you’ll make the gazette’s first page column. ❜ he leant against the door’s frame, glancing to isabel. ❛ as for channeling medusa, i should hope not. was she not famously scorned by men, wife, who her monstrosity was intended to protect her from? ❜