The Season by @missgryffin [Jily, E, Regency AU: enemies➡️friends➡️lovers, mutual pining, slowburn. Duke James, Debutante Lily 💎. Multi chap, 2021].
Summary: James Potter, Duke of Peverell, has returned to London just in time for the season, where Miss Lily Evans is about to make her debut. Only, he’s not looking for a wife, and she’s not particularly interested in a husband.
Bridgerton-inspired AU. Jily in their element with the pining, the slowburn, the enemies to lovers. It doesn't get any better than this. 💗
Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun.
@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 7 || 1592 Words (oops!) || Read on Ao3
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“This is absurd,” Lily hisses, straining against the grip her older sister has on her wrist. She nearly stumbles on her long skirts in the process, but she doesn’t care—she’d pitch herself down the stairs if it meant getting herself out of this: meeting her betrothed.
It was idealistic of her to hold onto a notion of love, sure, but she thought she’d at least get some say in the matter of her engagement. A few chaperoned visits, a ball—time enough to have an opinion on the man. But perhaps her previous refusals to her sister and her husbands’ matches had proved one too many examples of the free spirit her father so often lauded.
So they had simply…chosen for her.
“Father would never—”
“Father’s not here, Lily,” Petunia bites. “And Vernon has found you a respectable match. This is not up for discussion—you will be marrying Lord Potter.” She pulls open the door with a little more force than a well-bred lady should, a serene expression settling onto her features as she leads Lily into the room and their guest’s attention is drawn by their entrance.
He’s handsome, in an irritating way—that’s Lily’s first thought as his eyes widen in surprise before bowing in response to the curtsies she and Petunia offer. He straightens and his attention is on her, a sparkling kind of wonder in his hazel eyes that Lily tries not to get swept up in—he’s assessing her for what she is: an offering. No matter how genial (or handsome) this man is, no one who consorts with Vernon Dursley holds any merit, as far as Lily is concerned. She frowns.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Evans,” Lord Potter says with a smile, and Lily finds she has to avert her eyes from its supposed sincerity. This could be dangerous if she forgets her instincts.
“The pleasure is mine, my Lord,” she says clearly, eyes flicking to his before focusing once more on the corner of the room, her frown still well in place.
“I apologize for her impertinence, sir,” Petunia says with a hollow laugh and a pinch to the inside of Lily’s arm—out of sight of her betrothed. “Lily, show him your pretty smile.”
“She does not need to smile if she does not wish it,” Lord Potter assures from across the room with a furrowed brow. “I understand this situation can be a bit overwhelming. Perhaps we could take a walk about the gardens outside and get to know one another.”
It strikes her, truly, how he addresses her instead of her sister. Unlike the few other suitors Petunia and Vernon had tried to court for her—who had spoken to them as if she were not in the room, as if she did not have a voice—Lord Potter seems to await her answer.
She gives a hesitant nod. “A chance for fresh air sounds lovely.”
Petunia leads the way through the house with a smug smile, snapping at the servants to ready the parasols for her and Lily. Lily’s quiet, her mind struggling to make sense of Lord Potter.
As they start on their walk, Petunia takes a spot next to Lily and falls in line with the couple, no doubt in an effort to ensure her younger sister remains amenable. Lord Potter starts up the conversation with a few simple questions directed at Lily, only to have her sister answer for her.
Lily feels the tension in her jaw, her eyes firmly fixed ahead of them on the path. She’s biting back some unkind words, something scathing or embarrassing, when her ears register a quiet, slightly exasperated sigh from her left.
“Mrs. Dursley, I was wondering if you might be persuaded to trail us so that I may get to know my intended a bit more personally.” Lily’s eyes snap up to the man on her left to find him focused on her sister, a strained smile on his face.
She can tell Petunia is displeased but she falls back as he requested, putting distance between herself and the couple, and Lily feels she can breathe a bit easier.
“You don’t get along with your sister.”
It’s an observation, not a question, and Lily tries to keep her face inscrutable as she turns to look at him. “I am grateful for Mr. and Mrs. Dursley’s kindness.”
She doesn’t miss the way his lips curve into an amused smile in the silence. “A very diplomatic answer.”
Her eyebrow raises, and she’s held her tongue long enough this morning to continue doing so. “Is that not what you’d deem a positive trait, my Lord?”
A sudden chuckle startles her, and he casts a surreptitious glance behind them before meeting her eyes. “Might I let you in on a secret, Miss Evans?”
Her heart, against her better judgment, begins beating wildly as her mind races with curiosity. “You may.”
He lowers his voice to a whisper so that she has to lean in to better hear him. “I rather dislike Vernon Dursley.”
This news twists her insides. On the one hand she finds him a kindred spirit, on the other—dangerous, for what are his intentions in marrying her if he finds her relations so disagreeable? Her breathing becomes short as she tries to parse out her next questions, aware of his eyes on her and the echo of amusement sliding from his face at her silence.
“So am I…a pawn in a game of revenge to you? A joke, perhaps?” She tries to contain her anger, tries to keep her voice low even as she feels the panic clawing at her insides.
“No, no, no, Miss Evans—”
“Am I not a person who deserves—”
“I did not mean to upset you—”
“Upset me?” She glares at him and he casts a nervous glance behind them.
“I hope you do not mind my honesty. Mr. Dursley is a very proud man, very boastful. He’s continuously looking for ways to bolster his connections and social status and has been shopping you around as a means to do that for a while.” She can see his amber eyes flicker with anger behind his glasses. “I thought it was vile, especially considering the contempt for you I’d often hear in his voice after a glass or two of brandy.”
“So this is chivalry?” She hisses. “As if I am a damsel in need of saving?”
“I believe at Dursley’s hand, you do.”
The quiet between them stretches as they walk, Lily’s cheeks flushed with anger and indignation. A sigh from her left breaks the tense silence, and when Lord Potter speaks, his voice is carefully measured.
“I do apologize, Miss Evans, for how all of this has come to light. I promise that I mean you no harm, nor think you incapable of making your own decisions. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to propose this match, but I do it not for valor, but because it is right.”
Lily finds her eyes drawn to him by not just the words, but in the sincerity with which he speaks. The wariness in his gaze forces her to look away, embarrassment creeping up for her outburst, however true her words may still be.
“Then I must apologize as well, my Lord. My words were—”
“Please do not…” Lily watches as he shakes his head, and she finds discomfort has settled in the crease between his brows. “My title gives me a status which I’ve not earned, but for the luck of my birth. It often shields me from others’ honesty, both good and bad. Your words were entirely justified, and refreshing to hear, I assure you.”
Lily nods uncertainly as they turn a corner by a rosebush.
“Again, I make you this offer not borne of vengeance or pity, but with the hope of giving you a chance at a life you could enjoy. My expectations are not numerous—your attendance at certain events, involvement in the community, an heir”—here, his cheeks flush—“and hopefully an amiable companionship. Other than that, you would be free to spend your time as you’d like—reading, painting, traveling…I have no desire to restrict you to the confines of a manor with running a household as your only outlet, if that is not your wish.”
Lily’s heart is pounding at the proposition, prior feelings of irritation fading and giving way to some shred of hope for a life not decided by her sister or a man who likens himself to Vernon. A life where she has options and freedom, and the means to stoke the bit of restless spirit that still resides in her.
“That is, if you will still have me.”
Her eyes meet his—really meet his—for the first time that day, and her stomach knots with the eagerness she sees shining in their depths, breaking through the amber and flecks of green. Finding her voice, she speaks with a hint of mischief. “I’m doubtful that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley would allow any other option, even if I wished it, my Lord.” Lily takes a breath. “Which I do not.”
“I am relieved to hear that, Miss Evans,” he exhales, and she can see the way his face sheds the discomfort of the last few minutes though a flush rises on his neck. “And if we’re to be married then please, in these moments of ours, feel permitted to call me James.”
“The man behind the title,” she muses with a nervous smile.
He replies with a hopeful smile of his own. “Indeed, Miss Evans.”
