Lydia Tremaine was not having fun.
Having spent her entire life believing that she’d never escape from the Shadow Realm, she’d never bothered with learning how to dance, or make polite conversation, or any number of things that would make for a seamless transition for her into Society.
Andres had made fun of her the second he’d spotted her that evening, and though she could scornfully stomp on his foot to show her displeasure, she couldn’t blame him. Everything about her ensemble that evening was a direct clash against her very being.
But her cousin... her dear, sweet cousin. Society looked good on him, she had to admit.
Darien had always been the happier of the two, with a bright smile offered to all. The Tremaine good looks had skipped two generations but had thankfully manifested in the both of them, and as Lydia sipped at a glass of lemonade, she couldn’t help but eavesdrop on two (clearly lower) society ladies, who were discussing none other than the object of her familial affection.
If Darien was going to be a cog in the machine that was the marriage mart, Lydia would be damned if she let him near anyone who wasn’t absolutely rich, destined for greatness, and... equally as good. And her spectacular sense of judgment was telling her the women nearby didn’t stand a chance.
“Cousin,” she greeted mere seconds later, her overprotectiveness allowing her only one moment more to side-eye the women before she had fully turned her attention to the male.
“I believe I have a spot open on my dance card. Might you accompany me out onto the floor? I would so hate to be sitting on the sidelines for the quadrille.”
@discnchant