"—you must make haste, he won't be here for long—"
the ballroom erupts in a cacophony, but you stand against the wall with a glass of lemonade, rolling your eyes at the dramatics. being in your early twenties and already deemed a spinster by many mamas in the ton, you're grateful you're past your debutant years when men triple your age regard you with the same respect they'd give a stack of hay.
"finally found you," shoko stumbles into you, almost sloshing her drink onto your gown. you pay no mind to her, keeping your eyes trained on the crowd surrounding the entrance. "mr gojo wouldn't stop putting grapes into my glass. i was going to have to give him a facer if he didn't stop."
you tilt your head to look at her. "how's promenading with mr gojo?"
shoko rolls her eyes. "dreadful. all he speaks of is himself and his nightly activities at the gentleman's club."
you smile and shake your head, sipping your drink. the music cut off at the duke's arrival resumed, and couples began dancing again.
"—he looked at me—" a young woman gloats to her friend as they pass.
"ugh," you groan, glancing at shoko, who's trying to hide the empty dance card on her wrist. "i can't believe this," you mumble, face in a scowl.
"can't believe what?"
you turn to face her. "these girls tripping over themselves for a man! a man, shoko."
the brunette nods to whatever you're saying, though she pays no attention. "he's most likely more gentlemanly than mr gojo—"
"—he's most likely," you cut in. "an old, egotistic, unsightly rake who wants nothing more than a young lady to put his rotting, wrinkly—"
shoko stifles a sudden giggle before you, her hand covering her mouth.
"what?" you snap, gaze narrowed at your best friend.
shoko merely points behind you, her face slack at seeing something you cannot.
so, you turn. your line of sight is hindered by a navy coat, and as your eyes adjust, you realise it is, in fact, attached to a man. you peer at the ground as you lower to a curtsy. "my lord."
"good evening, miss."
shoko takes the cup from your hands before she leaves, sparing you no support. your eyes follow her retreating figure, your face hot and your hands shaking in embarrassment.
"i apologise greatly, my lord—" you finally tilt your head up, but the sight that welcomes you isn't one you'd expected.
the man is tall, taller than the other men of the ton. his skin is like porcelain, his eyes a deep shade of brown, and his cheeks are tinted a shade of pink, and, you squint slightly, so is his hair.
"i hope you do not mind the intrusion," the man says, snapping you out of your daze. "i was simply going to ask what could have gotten a young woman, such as yourself, so riled up?"
your mouth opens and closes like a fish, something your mama had taught you to never do in the presence of royalty or a man. the man chuckles at your stunned countenance but waits patiently until you collect yourself.
"i was simply describing the duke who had arrived just before, my lord," you say once you have composed yourself. "it is a known fact here that such men are of the sort."
"indeed," he mumbles, a hint of laughter in his response. "however, this duke is nothing of the sort."
your eyebrows raise and you nod along. "so, you've seen him then?"
"seen him? i know him personally."
you nod, smoothing out your skirts. "right."
"i can give you an introduction if you would like?"
you sigh. "i am terribly busy, you see," throwing your thumb over your shoulder. "spinster responsibilities."
the man's eyebrows jumped. "oh, so you're unmarried and unwilling to partake in such a thing?"
shaking your head, you scoff, earning a few glances from others around you. "two and twenty is barely old enough to be considered a spinster, my lord, but my mama insists it is appropriate, and who am i to be doubtful of her wisdom?"
"right," he mutters, the corner of his lips upturning at the sight of yours doing the same. "so, i shouldn't introduce a diamond, such as yourself, to the egotistic and unsightly duke?"
your cheeks burn with the humiliation of your previous words. "i accept the offer, but only because you are incredibly persuasive, my lord."
the man winks, but remains where he is stood. you clasp your hands before you, waiting for him to lead the way.
moments pass, and you notice debutants and mamas alike watching the pair of you stand in complete silence. you wonder what could be so exciting that the ton stands and stares at you—a topic of gossip that never seems to leave their minds.
growing increasingly uncomfortable, you peer up at the man.
"so, when is this introduction taking place?" you ask, voice meek.
"right now," he smiles, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. and with fear, you realise your mistake.
you curse under your breath and curtsy.
"stand up," the duke laughs, and you can't help but giggle nervously with him. "it took you long enough to realise."
now you know why the ton was staring at you so intently—it wasn't you they were staring at.
"excuse me for being so naive," you swipe the back of your hand across your forehead, trying to ignore how his gaze caresses your collarbone.
"never mind that," he waves his hand in dismissal. "so, what's the final verdict? my diamond?" he teases, stretching his arms out.
"uh—" you pause, taking your time running your eyes over every inch of him. "definitely not unsightly."
he nods once, his lips pulled into a devilish grin. "i'm pleased."
and then he leans down and takes your hand in his. his palm is larger than yours, and you notice his grip is firmer and more sure than any man who'd held your fingers before. the look he gives you through his lashes is one you'll never forget.
"duke of st. john," he says against your hand before pressing his lips delicately against the silk fabric of your gloves. "but you can call me ryomen."
