Closed starter for @henrie-latymer As Kore opened the back door of the tea room the wind whistled through the doorway. She shut it swiftly, wincing as the wood banged against the doorframe. Snow caught in her curls and she wrapped herself in her arms. Normally she didn’t mind the little tea dates her aunt set her up with but the women she was seated with were vapid and painfully boring. Going on about what nice muffs they would buy during the festival and who they hoped would ask them to skate. Kore had rolled her eyes which garnered her a glare from her aunt.
So she did what she always did-- sneak away. Though usually her escapades took place in the spring or summer when she didn’t have to worry about wind and snow. Her thick coat was checked at the front of the establishment. Kore had only managed to sneak out though the service door in the back. Rubbing her arms she walked briskly back to the main road. She still had her pocketbook. With the humble bit of money she had she could walk to the bookstore down a block and spend a good hour or two there. Then pay for the trouble by buying herself a new book. She preferred philosophy and natural sciences but Kore would read anything put in front of her-- especially when the alternative option was small talk.
Caught up in her thoughts she did not notice the slab of ice in her path-- till she was slipping forward. She reached out to catch herself only to be caught by someone else. Kore blinked, scared to look up at her savior. Which was worse? Knowing the person who had caught her or having it be a complete stranger? Not wanting to be a coward she finally lifted her head. “My Lord--” she stammered. Oh, knowing her savior was worse, much worse. Lord Henrie Latymer, a seasoned dodger of the London Season. Kore had met him briefly at a ball in the fall. But despite their brief interaction she found the Lord favorable. He even spoke with her about her plans to travel one day, something which most men baulked. “Lord Henrie, my apologies--” she attempted to stand on her own only to slip once more on a small patch of ice, grabbing Henrie’s shoulder.
