CLOSED STARTER | for @edgaroconnor
LOCATION | oconnor home
Ireland was a fun, but brief, time for Tobias and if he remembered correctly it was one of the fastest schools that had kicked him out. It wasn’t even that he did anything as scandalous as he did in other places but he did have a good time and was a bad influence on more than a few students. Hearing one of them was in London gave him an idea.
It was past any reasonably social hour when he turned up and went to the O’Connor house, casually striding in and getting past the door with nothing but a smile and asking where Edgar was. “Long time no see, my friend.” He grins going straight into the room. “If your family is anything like mine then I’m here to rescue you from all this seriousness and we can have some fun.”
who: dominic & edgar @edgaroconnor
where: O'Connor House, Mayfair
Dominic barely slept. The night before, Dominic had finally found Edgar, but seeing the state his brother was in, he’d wished he hadn’t. Edgar, slumped against the wall of a jail cell in the dead of night, wasn’t something Dominic wanted to see again. He didn’t want to smell the stench of brandy and poor judgement, but that was Edgar’s signature scent lately. Dominic left the jailer with fifty pounds and an empty cell, all to save the reputation his brothers wanted to destroy. During the rest of the night, Dominic couldn’t sleep. His patience was starting to wane with both brothers and their actions lately. Frederic was practically love-lorn, and Edgar was a mess. It wasn’t the legacy Lady Daniella wanted, something she’d blamed Dominic for.
Dawn had only just broken, and Dominic knew this matter needed fixing. He stood at the threshold of Edgar’s room, watching his brother sleep off the night before. Edgar’s room was a perfect embodiment of him. Edgar’s boots were thrown across the room, which stunk of stale drink. Dominic didn’t hesitate. He stormed across the room and tore open the curtains. Merciless and decisive. “Get up,” Dominic demanded, as the sun hit his brother. “I won’t have you or Frederic ruin this family any further.” Dominic didn’t wait for an answer. He moved quickly to his brother’s bed and pulled back his covers. “You’ll rise and bathe and get dressed. We’ve got a lot to do today, and I need you looking your best.” Acting his best wasn’t a skill Dominic thought Edgar or Frederic possessed. These were the future of their family, and one was pining after an unsuitable woman while Edgar’s match looked to be at the bottom of a bottle.
Genevieve taught French plenty to her younger siblings. Conjectures and subjectives when their governess had a poor handling of the lessons. It was easy to focus and push them onto the right path, keep their parents happy knowing the rest of the litter could speak the native tongue.
But how would she do *this*? Edgar was on her mind like a constant, a thing that could only be remedied with seeing him again. She wanted to ask what his intentions were with Sophia, demand he be clear in his wants. But that would give her away entirely. He still hadn’t realized she was a princess herself, so why would she be upset by that? There was hardly a reason. Not to mention, Lord O’Connor hated her now, having been under the impression she shared the sentiments towards him. What if he kicked her out, saw her not good enough for his brother? Or hated her so much that he would refuse any chance of them interacting?
Her mind jumbled with conflicting thoughts, even as she gave two gentle knocks to the front door of their home. It was massive and imposing, but all homes of this caliber were. Versailles was an overwhelm, so the O’Connor residence was a soothing, woodsy respite in comparison.
When the door opened, she came in contact with a staff member, kindly asking, “I am here to see Edgar. We have a language lesson or two to conduct.” Genevieve hated the sound of her voice. Unsure, shaky. Even considering calling him Mister O’Connor. There was two of them by that title, what a confusing mess that would be!
She needed to hurry. Clear her mind, soothe her thoughts. And quell the intense desire to kiss her new pupil again.
The walk back home was a quiet one. The crickets chirped, people passing in excitable whispers. But she floated the streets of Mayfair like a ghost, lost in time and heartache to someone who saw right through her. The kiss with Kitty hadn’t been a mistake, but it didn’t quell her pain either. In fact, it only made her feel worse. Had she been using her? Had Kitty been using her as well, given her father’s recent death? And what did this mean for her school’s funding? Dominic had rescinded his offer once Mary became involved, and he was of no help now that she’d done what she had.
Her face was splotchy from the tears she spilled, brows knit into a near-permanent furrow. Her hair, always pristine, was a mess in damp tangles. She didn’t go straight home after tonight’s events. Instead, she found herself walking barefoot along the damp grass in St. James Park. Loneliness was a familiar thing, but now that she’d met people who made that foreign, she sought comfort. And not the kind where clothes were discarded and the body was the center show. No, for once, she desired true platonic comfort.
Ceara continued her empty path, feet squelching in time with the crunch of wet grass. A figure made her pause, hesitation intermingled with a touch of fear. But as she stepped closer, the head of blond hair and concentrated pinched face revealed a familiar figure.
“Edgar?”
She spoke before she thought, which didn’t happen much until tonight. Her voice cracked on the last syllable, and as she took another step closer, there was confirmation that it was him. Deep-set eyes, blue as ever, and kinder than anyone credited him for. “Tá áthas orm tú a fheiceáil.”
Ceara settled beside him on her knees, as if her limbs had a mind of their own. They brought her here, and now they brought her to Edgar. Did she consider him a friend? He reminded her of home, of the way her father smelled when he worked in his office all day. Ink and parchment with something smoky behind it.
But as she sat there in silence, her face changed. She looked down at her lap and she hiccuped as she repeated in English this time, “I’m really glad you’re here.” And then came the waterworks in full. Her breath hitched and her hair curtained her face as she released a proper sob. It was ugly in a way. Not from her, but from the wretched ache in her chest. From the sheer loneliness that crept on her now that she was here, crying in front of someone she’d only met just recently.
