cece1x1:
He’d never had an eye for fashion, but after travelling and seeing the dress of so many cultures, Al had grown to appreciate the intricate details that Lily and their mother spent so much time fussing over. As his eyes roamed over the girl’s dress, the vines calling memories of leaves and uncut trees and nights camping alone in the forest. It was a dress straight from Shakespeare: a true midsummer night’s dream. Or, at least, he was sure that’s what the other ladies must be thinking.
Whoever she was, it was to be a mystery to him, just as the fact that she was dancing with the new Duke of Carneath would have to remain a secret from her. Maybe someone would know her—Lily or his mother. Her willingness to dance with him without knowing his name or his station or even his face must speak highly to the woman before him. The surprise in the masked lady’s voice took him aback; surely others would have been clamoring to dance with her in all her splendor. Any man with eyes would be drawn to her.
The straight-forward earnestness of the answer brought a smile to his lips. She was a debutante, maybe. Had this been anything but her first season, the answer would have been practiced, coy. A girl like this would never make it through her first season unwed, of that much Al was certain. She would be engaged in no time. But first, if he could figure out who she was, he would ask her to dance again at the next ball, this time unmasked. Surely sharing the first dance with a duke would bring eyes to her and make her that much more desirable to the eligible bachelors of London. Not that she would need any help to find a husband.
He shook off the hint of sadness that crept up on him at the thought and held out a gloved hand to her just as the music began to turn into something a little more upbeat. “I must warn you, I may be a little out of practice. But I don’t think dancing is something one can truly forget.”
it was early in the evening yet, and lady pucey had been keeping a close eye on her newly-presented daughter thus far. she had all sorts of ideas of how this, avery’s first real ball, should proceed. it was difficult to keep up with all the instructions - was she to stand back and look aloof, or smile invitingly at all who passed? it was some relief that her mother had been distracted by some old friend, and avery had taken her chance to slip away for some lemonade. there was no real reason to worry, not in this crowded room, though the masked faces added a thrill to it all. it seemed to blur all of the strict rules she’d been taught, when one did not know to whom they were speaking.
her excitement for this moment had been building longer than she cared to admit, yet now that she was here, avery felt as if she was she making a fool of herself. she’d already forgotten all her mother’s coaching, all the practicing of how to behave in proper society. the first young gentleman to acknowledge her presence this evening, and she was already stumbling over her words like a child. avery chided herself internally, wishing she knew how to be as confident as some of the other young ladies she’d met tonight. amongst her family and friends, she was far from a wallflower, and yet she was acting like she’d spoken to a man before. of course, it was different when they were xander’s friends, those who’d known her since she was a small child. they saw her as a little sister, not as a young woman. such things seemed to make all the difference.
‘ oh, i am certain you are a wonderful dancer, ‘ avery said, though of course she could be sure of no such thing. so long as he did not trod on her feet too egregiously, though, it could not be that bad. or so she hoped. there was little to be done for it now anyway, when she’d accepted his offer and let him lead her to the dancefloor. she took her place amongst the other dancers, letting him take the lead. that was, after all, what gentlemen were supposed to do, according to her mother.
now that they were standing closer, avery took the chance to look a little closer at her mysterious gentleman. he was tall, certainly - she felt rather dwarfed by him, in fact. she’d always heard it was a good thing for a man to be tall, though, and so she considered this a mark in his favour. it was difficult to see much of his face, but he did not seem particularly old, which was a relief. she dreaded nothing quite so much as the thought of being married off to a man twice her age. she’d seen it happen, to young women she knew, and they never seemed happy with the outcome. he was well dressed, in the finest of fashions, which meant it was likely he was not poor - which she was told was important. she did not want to live a life in poverty, of course, though she was not entirely sure just how wealthy a man needed to be to be considered acceptable. and of course, whether or not he was handsome was difficult to ascertain, but she saw nothing about him that seemed to suggest he would not be. secretly, she hoped he was - even if she might never see him again, let alone know his name, it would make this so much more exciting, would it not?
