#ladyaldithofcastillon

[thehousebeinard-blog]

The Fine Art of Social Manipulation

"So... when's your girlfriend coming over?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Korbin responded instinctively, not missing a beat and not bothering to so much as look up from his homework.

Johanne rolled over onto her back, giving him an upside-down grin from across the room. "So when's your not-girlfriend coming over?"

"Five o'clock."

"That's in ten minutes."

"I know."

"Aren't you going to make yourself pretty for her?"

Korbin sighed and shut his textbook, papers tucked neatly inside. "Boys don't make themselves pretty, Jo. And I don't need to look special for her. She's coming to talk to Mom, Dad, and Rohesia anyway."

Johanne pouted, seemingly disappointed in this bit of news. She did love to tease her older brothers, but with one now married and moved out, she was left with only Korbin who never brought anyone even remotely female over except Aldith who was - by his own words - not his girlfriend and only coming for their other family members.

She rolled back over onto her stomach, tangled up in the pile of blankets heaped onto the couch.

There was a knock at the door followed by muffled voices and then footsteps. Their butler Jurian entered the room formally. "Miss Aldith Castillon is here, sir."

[the-lady-oneill]

Pearls and Other Unnecessary Finery // Ladyaldithofcastillon

Ultana abhorred dinner parties.

These were the events were Hugh was even more particular about what she wore and how she wore it, about where she went and who she talked to. For most- dinner parties were either extremely boring or else entertaining social events. For Ultana- they were dangerous. One mistake meant a world of pain when she got home.

He'd chosen the Red Lace - which was little surprise to her. Already she'd had several compliments which had made her blush and her husband beam with pride. The main course was now over, and with it came the most difficult portion of the night- one she preferred to avoid: dessert, coffee, and deal-broking. This time, to her utter relief, Hugh had loosened his ever-present grip on her waist, letting her know in his silent way that she was free to go to the other end of the room, get a cup of tea, and pretend to socialize with the other women. 

Now she stood at the edge of the gathering, sipping on her tea and nursing a growing headache, eyes trained on her husband to pick up the slightest hint of anger or distress, tactfully avoiding conversation with anyone else. She wasn't in the mood. 

It was then that she noticed the girl- seemingly around Erinea's age- weaving her way around the crowd of adults squabbling over stock prices and votes, helping herself to the candied nuts.

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

"Mind you don't let Lady Amelia catch you at those. She's rather fond of them." In fact, the plump woman would be absolutely heartbroken to find someone-else-not-her eating any of the desserts.