#themarquessofislay

[ernestpembroke]

@elxwenthehxpeful @themarquessofislay​

It had been a less than enjoyable evening for Ernest. First finding himself drenched, then finding himself incredibly jealous of every one of Edmund’s dance partners, he’d spent much the soiree sulking. He danced too of course, and decently, but he still found himself stealing glances at his friend and wishing he were dancing instead with him. Of course he wouldn’t admit that to anyone and he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to ask Edmund to dance, no, he should ask him. Ernest thought it was quite obvious his answer would be yes so it was Edmund’s fault for being difficult to read. Immature at best but this was still Ernest.

He was back in his earlier corner, sipping on wine, when he caught sight of the girl he’d promenaded with. Oh, he was rude to her. She was rude too but well. . . . Perhaps he’d been too hard. He wasn’t normally easy to offend and he knew he’d been harsher with her than he’d have been on another day. Grumpy as he was about the evening, he moved out of his corner and approached her.

“Miss Elowen,” he greeted, with a polite nod, “I thought– Well I was a good deal more irritable the day we met and I think I owe an apology. If you would like to share your thoughts on today’s weather, I might actually have some of my own to pair.”

[ladywinsomes]

10th August | Colchester House | @themarquessofislay

 Since being able to catch up with her old friend, Lydia was feeling much better. It was a relief not to be forced to talk about her late husband. She was even happier when she read the next name on her dance card: Lord Kenneth Ridel. Suddenly, the room felt quite stuffy.

Lydia fanned herself with the card and waited patiently for him to appear. When he did, she felt a familiar rush of desire. She curtsied and let Kenneth lead her onto the dance floor. As they passed other couples and singletons, Lydia became hyper aware of every single eye that turned their way. It donned on her that in order to keep their rendezvous a secret, they needed to truly appear as strangers. Or in the very least, mere acquaintances. Her knuckles were white as she clung to Kenneth’s arm for support. “It’s just a dance!” She whispered to herself.

[lordedmund]

the queen’s luncheon !

@themarquessofislay​

“Edmund if you do not stop the muscles in your neck will be sore tomorrow.”, Philippa had said earlier, mainly to tease him, but her words rung true. For, despite being seated at the Queen’s table, he found himself craning his neck to catch a quick glimpse of table two. Or rather one raven haired young man with sharp features in company of Mr. Wyatt who was sat at said table. Their falling out was still fresh as day to Edmund and he had a hard time concentrating on whatever chit chat and idle gossip was going on at his table.

He found himself drifting off, gaze lingering perhaps a little too long on Ernest, when he suddenly locked eyes with someone else - but there was no reason to be embarrassed for Edmund found himself happy and relieved that it was Kenneth’s gaze he had caught. He waited a bit, made sure that everyone at his table was well engaged in conversation before he leaned over his chair to speak to Kenneth.

He grinned, glanced over at Lydia for a moment. “I do say you two look marvellous together, my friend.”

[dorottyacrow]

@themarquessofislay​

Dot walked somewhat nervously through the ballroom, masked and quite the fish out of water. It was her first proper ball, the first time she’d been to such a busy soiree, her first real London party – there was a lot to take in. Finding Lady Mulgrave had set her aback some and she found herself checking over her shoulder, wondering what her old friend was up to . . . Oh she hated how they were no longer friends. The ton was a welcome change in scenery, but it was also quite lonely when she knew so few people there.

As she walked, looking over her shoulder rather than in front of her, she collided with a gentleman. Jumping slightly, she brought her hand to her mouth, hiding a nervous smile. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I’ve been terribly clumsy lately, nerves, I’m sure since I only just arrived and don’t know anyone–” She paused, brows pressing together slightly. “Do I know you?” Dumb question, since she was masked. She raised her mask, just enough to reveal her face and offer a smile. “You look familiar.” She put her mask back down and curtsied. “Dorottya Crow.”

[ladywinsomes]

7th August || Regent’s Park || @themarquessofislay

Lydia felt naughty. A good naughty, but naughty all the same. She had not left the house without her maid, Rachel, since she was first married. As she weaved her way through the cobblestone streets outside the park, she held tight to her bonnet. One gust of wind could send it flying back, exposing her to the people passing by. 

The trees that lined the park were lush and green, swaying in the breeze. Lydia felt a twinge of anticipation when she crossed through the gates. She was somewhat thankful for the wind, as it was keeping most of the Ton inside their homes this afternoon. 

An aroma of lavender and fresh roses began to fill Lydia’s nose and she knew she was closing in on her destination. A few steps further, she found herself face to face with the strapping gentlemen, and current partner in crime.

“Lord Ridel...” she whispered, stepping towards him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

[ladywinsomes]

🤔 - What’s something they’ll never understand? 

{also asked by @viscountessxia }

Why men like to drink so much whiskey. It tastes horrid!

[ladywinsomes]

— 1st September // Mowbray House

@themarquessofislay

The front rooms of the townhome were almost wall to wall stacks of trunks and boxes as the staff prepared for the final journey back to West Sussex. Lydia’s own trunks were packed, as well as a new carriage her father had sent. The scene was somehow both somber and hopeful. A chapter of Lydia’s life that had been wrought with extreme highs and lows was coming to an end, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her name had been changed back, her finances were now settled, and she was looking forward to seeing her dear mama.

With the hustle and bustle indoors, Lydia had decided that one last afternoon in the garden was just the thing she needed.

She had just finished a chapter of her book and stood up from her spot under the tree. Her bonnet had slipped off her head and her chocolate curls blew in the warm breeze. Running her fingers through it, she turned to see a figure coming from the direction of the house. The soft smile she wore quickly bloomed into a wide grin when she realized who was approaching her. Lydia dropped the book into the basket at her feet and took off, walking briskly toward Kenneth.

As they neared one another, a laugh bubbled from her throat and she clasped her hands behind her waist. “Lord Ridel,” she looked up. “I must say, I did not expect to see you so soon.” It was difficult for Lydia to mask how much she had yearned to see him one more time, before they both left town.

[ladywinsomes]

10th August | Colchester House | @themarquessofislay

   After humoring her mother-in-law and circling the square one time, Lydia decided to take matters into her own hands. As soon as the carriage came to a halt, she realized that they were still half a block down the street. It was already two minutes past eight, but Lydia would not be fashionably late - not tonight. With an impatient thwack to the roof, she ordered her driver to stay put.

“What on earth are you doing?” Lady Josephine asked, shocked at change in her attitude.

Lydia heaved a sigh, gathering her skirts and reaching for the door handle. “I’m going to the Mulberry Soiree.”

With one last smile, she leapt out of the carriage and into the sodden street. As she had suspected, the rain was much worse than before, but it was too late to look back now. She scurried toward Colchester House, trying not to slip on the cobblestone. Once there, she took the front steps two at a time, sidestepping the footmen who were trying to help her inside. Once inside, she made a beeline for a large mirror hanging down the far left hallway. Her hair was dripping and her cheeks were flushed, but she was on time, dammit. Well, sort of.

The orchestra that had been hired began to play a rather rambunctious version of Vivaldi’s ‘Alla Rustica.’ Oh, she loved this song. As much as she wanted to find a dance partner, Lydia knew it would be best to find Lady Effingham first.

Before she could turn around to pursue her sponsor, however, she felt a strong tug on her wrist. Her bracelets jingled and she let out a noiseless gasp as she was whisked out into the gardens. This did not frighten her for she immediately recognized the familiar sweet musky smell of her captor…

“Lord Ridel…”