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Blood and Lace

Blood and Lace

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A Regency era roleplay. With vampires. One on One. Closed.

1,099 readers have visited Blood and Lace since songstar13 created it.

Introduction

Plot:

A young lady in her first season is introduced to a mysterious Mr. Roskin by one of her close male friends. It seems to her an inconsequential meeting, but little does she know that this meeting will alter the course of her life forever. As her acquaintance with the man grows, she finds herself unwittingly drawn to him. His eyes seem to promise dark thrills beyond the scope of polite society, but the hushed stories that circulate around him hint at a sinister and dangerous past. Intrigued, the young woman sets out to find out more about the secretive gentleman, and discovers many shocking things about herself along the way as well.

Important Information:

So, I'm planning on this roleplay having darkish themes and some semi-adult scenes, so if you're not okay with a bit of PG-13 or so scenes (most likely much farther along in the roleplay), I would leave now. I'll be playing Mr. Roskin, who is a vampire (if you hadn't guessed already). I'll post information about him later.

This is a 1x1 roleplay. To be fair, I'll be choosing based on your character description and a short introductory/sample paragraph to showcase your literacy. The short paragraph can be sent to me in part of the character application form that you do not use for describing the character. It can be an introduction for this roleplay, or a sample of your roleplay style and skill from another roleplay, it doesn't really matter. It just has to be long enough for me to get a good gauge of your ability.

The most important aspect of this roleplay for me, is not the clothing (so don't sweat it if you don't know how to describe what she's wearing), but more the manner of interaction and the social customs of the time. In other words, as long as you can make your character sound and act like the time period, everything else is minor. I myself am a bit sketchy on Regency era dress.

For those of you who are unsure exactly what constitutes the 'Regency' time period, I'm going for something along the lines of Pride and Prejudice time.

I prefer quality over quantity, but one-liners will really kill this roleplay, so unless there is nothing else to be done (such as when in direct conversation), I would expect a paragraph or two in each response. Mostly, just be literate, please. Dedication to the roleplay is appreciated. You don't have to post every day, but every few days would be nice. If you're going to be gone, unable to reply, or grounded for any length of time, please tell me first.

A picture of your character (if one can be provided) will suffice for a description. Anime pictures are preferred, though a realistic photo is acceptable. It doesn't matter if the picture shows the character in Regency dress or not.

Toggle Rules

The GM of this roleplay hasn't created any rules! You can do whatever you like!

Taking place in...

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Reviews

20/30
Characterization: Proficient Plot: Proficient Depth: Advanced Style: Advanced Mechanics: In-Progress Overall: Proficient
Renssaerene wrote:Your story is devoloping quite well, I enjoyed reading it, and it was reminiscent of the Pride & Prejudice style of writing. I would suggest writing your posts in a word processor- There are a lot of punctuation errors, as well as lapses in proper grammar and spelling. You would most likely benefit from the studying of writings from this era. It would help with the use of proper accents and dialect, as well as titles and other era-specific vocabulary. Your plot is progressing, and the characters are devoloping. I would also suggest that you get this reviewed later down the line, when the story and its contents are more fully shaped. If you stay on this track, you will definitely make it to 'advanced' in due time.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 2 authors

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Damien strolled idly around the edge of the dance floor, hands clasped behind his back. A number of couples were making their way down the dance. Some were better matched than others, but he could find none that did not do credit to themselves in the art of dancing. His warm ocher eyes slid over fabric and lace sedately. It was a cool night in April, and the smell of spring wafted in through the wide french windows that stood open at one end of the large hall. Candlelight from the magnificent chandeliers bathed the room's occupants in a soft flickering glow.

Coming to rest near one of the windows, he adjusted his cravat, tugging it into place with practiced ease. Arms folded against his chest, he turned his gaze upon the street beyond. Carriages rattled past, announced by the clip clop of horses' hooves on the cobblestone. Golden light spilled from the room and pooled on the shrubbery. Beyond this small puddle of illumination, darkness swallowed up the avenue. The city beyond had already donned the dark cloak of night.

Inhaling softly, the gentleman returned his attention to the dance floor. Couples whirled past, their scents washing over him gently. The sweet, pure scent of virgins mingled with the darker, musky scent of the less pure. Damien allowed himself a smirk. The young men and women continued their dancing, unaware that each had been exposed to his scrutiny.

Miss Fairmount passed him in the arms of a young swain he presumed was her lover. Miss Montford's scent washed over him next, as untainted as the day she'd been born. Mr. Kingsley and his fiancee spun past, and he wondered briefly if Mr. Kingsley had been the one to deflower her, or if she was having relations on the side. Mr. Cox, Miss Dryer, Miss Glaston, Mr. Whitby, Miss Younge---they became a blur of scents and faces, slipping past in a never-ending stream.

Tiring of this manner of passing the evening, he resumed his rounds about the room. A few harried-looking stragglers were just arriving as he passed by the entryway. He spared them an uninterested glance without halting. The evening was shaping up to be a singularly tedious affair.

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Isobel Marwick was not amused and it showed clearly in her expressive dark eyes. The object of her irritation was a certain gentleman by the name of Lord Rowley. Lord William Rowley was a particularly unpleasant man who had spent the entire evening staring at Isobel's cleavage with his beady eyes, he was a man given to enjoying himself which was evident by his wide girth and flushed face. She had spent most of the evening, since arriving at the ball, trying to avoid his odious attention with limited success. She had already been forced to dance with him by her very enthusiastic mama, who had made it plain that a man of his wealth would be a suitable match, and that had been a ordeal she did not want to repeat. What with his straying hands (really one did not need to stray anywhere else but the waist) and his two left feet not to mention the smell of stale alcohol and sweat all in all it made for a singularly horrific event. She had just been congratulating herself on managing to avoid seeing again when he had caught on her way back from freshening up and had followed her back to where her mama was seated.

"Ah Lord Rowley enjoying the ball I assume?" Her mother asked with far too much friendliness as far as Isobel was concerned.
"Indeed I am Lady Marwick, Indeed I am. I was hoping perhaps miss Isobel was free for the next dance?"
Isobel immediately began fanning herself vigorously in the hopes of lying convincingly on her inability to dance anymore just at that time. She pretended to lean slightly against a pillar as though overheating. In all honesty it was not that difficult a pretence as the ballroom was overly crowded and it was indeed very warm.
"I fear I am a little too warm to dance just now, my lord." Isobel said weakly."You honour me of course with the offer perhaps another time..."
"Oh dear, you do look a little faint my dear, perhaps some time on the balcony will be just the thing to perk you up." Her mother said with genuine concern. "Perhaps Lord Rowley would be kind enough to escort you?"

Isobel realised then that she was stuck with the unpleasant man and all she could do was grin and bear it but if it was a choice between dancing with him and being alone with him she would choose the former.
"I find the idea of dancing with you has strengthened my spirit somewhat my lord. Perhaps a dance is just the thing." She said with a smile though inwardly she wanted to cringe as his eyes lit up and he took her arm. He led her towards the dance floor and Isobel tried her best to appear enthusiastic but feared she was failing miserably. As she was being pulled inexorably towards the dance she noticed a man walking around the edges of the floor and for some reason she could not name she was curious about him. She met his gaze for a brief moment but was then pulled into the dance by Lord Rowley.

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Following his path devoutly, Damien's eyes scanned the room. The night's activities were already beginning to wear on him. One could only extract so much pleasure from watching others engaged in a vigorous physical activity such as dancing. He pushed a hand through his hair tiredly, sighing once again. To be sure, balls were his least favorite of all social engagements. The society which he immersed himself in was less than intriguing, and the conversation downright repetitive. Oh my, did you hear about Miss Faucet's new riding habit? It is simply exquisite, and Oh, dear, Mr. Hawking, you are quite an atrocious flirt. Really, how often could one speak of clothes and beaus before they grew tiresome?

"There you are, Roskin!" A voice caught Damien's attention, and he glanced up to see his friend, Gerard Le Feuvre, beckoning to him from a group of young ladies a little ways away. A few other gentleman hovered about the group covetously, though the young women paid them no mind. Mr. Le Feuvre was about Damien's own age, and he was quite popular with the young ladies, as he had a handsome face and handsome income to match.

"Le Feuvre," he replied in kind as he adjusted his course to bring him closer to the gentleman. "I did not know you planned to attend this ball."

"Indeed, I did not know it myself, but evening rolled around and I found myself mounting the steps," Mr. Le Feuvre declared, grinning.

"Mr. Le Feuvre, you are being quite rude!" exclaimed one of the fine women at his elbow. "Introduce us to your handsome friend."

Gerard chuckled and did as the woman had bid him. Damien bowed as he was named. "It is a pleasure," he replied, kissing each lady's hand in turn. They tittered at his attentions like a flock of birds. Damien remained with the group for a time, making and responding to polite inquiries from the women. It said a lot for Gerard's charm that only a few of the women had transferred their attentions to him.

"Lord Rowley has snagged quite a beauty," remarked Gerard. "Poor thing." Damien followed his friend's gaze to the dance floor, where Lord Rowley's generous bulk made him easy to find. His partner looked no more than 20, and possibly younger. She had long, alluring, wavy black hair and a petit figure, made to look even smaller next to Lord Rowley's hulking mass. Needless to say, Damien did not think she looked very pleased to find herself in the company of such a man.

The women of their group, who had obviously been waiting for an offer to dance which was not coming from either of the gentleman anytime soon, had been drawn off one at a time by other gentleman, and Damien and Gerard now found themselves alone on the side of the dance floor. The young man looked at Damien, a mischevious glint in his eye. "What do you say, would you like to steal her away?"

Damien turned the idea over in his head for a moment, continuing to observe the mismatched pair. It pleased him, and a small smile spread across his features. "Indeed."

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Isobel fought the urge to walk off the dance floor mid dance as Lord Rowley continued to act in an overly familiar manner although thankfully the dance was one where the need to touch was not often. It involved swapping partners regularly which did give her some time to escape his presence. But then during those moments when the dance brought them together again he would act in very ungentlemanly fashion his hands often sliding lower than any man, except her husband, was allowed to go. He seemed to be trying to make up for the times when he could not be near her and Isobel began to wonder if the dance would ever end. As once more they came together he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"You are a stunning beauty my dear and perhaos fit to grace my bed."
Isobel was unsure as to whether she had heard him correctly, surely no gentleman would ever utter such words on such an early aquaintance and in public no less! She attempted to pull away slightly but he gripped her arm in a surprisingly firm grip. Isobel was unsure how to act, should she cause a fuss and draw attention to his behaviour? But then that would cause no end of gossip and scandal which could have a detrimental effect on herself and her family. Or should she simply smile and bear it? But then that would perhaps make her mother believe she welcomed the mans affections and that would lead down a route she did not want to go. Instead she settled for a point in between the two options and smiled sweetly at the man before steepping very hard on his foot, they were still moving and she hoped others would simply see it as clumsiness on her part.

"Lord Rowley, perhaps you would think that but I am inclined to feel that you are not fit to grace mine!" She said very quietly but in a heated tone. She knew the words were not ones appropriate to a lady and knew her mama would most likely suffer a fit if she heard but right at that moment she did not care. She would not allow this man to believe he could behave any way he wished just because she was female. He reddened angrily but whatever he was about to say was lost as the dance ended and everyone clapped around them. Isobel curtsied as was proper and then walked away quickly before he could say more. She was heading towards the ladies room when a young woman with blonde curls came hurrying up to her.
"Izzy! I saw you dancing with Lord Rowley. Why ever did you agree to that?"
Isobel smiled and looked fondly at her long time friend, Caroline Beaumont was one of those rare people who saw everyone in a good light until they did something to prove her wrong abd even then she was usually forgiving. She was one of the kindest and most genuine souls Isobel had ever met which was why she valued her friendship so much. The Ton as a whole were not known for their honesty and when surrounded by gossip and intrigue someone as honest and straightforward as Caroline was refreshing. Caroline looked very fetching in a pale blue gown with delicate white trimmings, it was of course in the latest fashion having a very high waist. It complimented her blonde hair and blue eyes perfectly and showed her curvacous figure to its full advantage. Unlike Isobel who whilst being attractive was not a typical beauty Caroline was the epitome of what the Ton considered beautiful. Not that it generally bothered Isobel what the Ton thought of her in terms of her looks.

"Mama." Isobel replied grimly.
"Oh here he comes again, that man is like a limpit." Caroline exclaimed in irritation. "Quickly go into the gardens and I will distract him for a time."
Isobel smiled gratefully at her friend. "Caroline." She declared. "You have saved me from a fate worse than death."
Caroline smiled back. "I know. Now go on."
Isobel quickly walked out through one of the patio doors and stepped into the garden proper, Lord and Lady Ravenhurst possessed a fine garden and Isobel stood simply enjoying the fresh air after the cloying atmosphere of the ball.

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The dance ended abruptly. The confusion and general agitation that accompanied the separation of dance partners and preparation for the next set caused Damien to lose sight of the young woman. Lord Rowley's bulk was, of course, still easily discovered amid the crowd, but his attractive partner had scurried away as soon as the music had ceased. Slight irritation prickled at him as he searched the room for the maiden in question, but to no avail. She had vanished into the night.

"Gerard, is it imperative that we greet Lord Rowley? I confess to have a marked distaste for the man, and as his partner has abandoned him, I would very much like to avoid the encounter altogether," he remarked.

Gerard grinned at Damien's admission. "I am of the same opinion myself, dear friend. However, we know nothing of this young lady, and Lord Rowley may be instrumental in securing an introduction. Though I dare say we needn't both endure his conversation---I will take that duty upon myself. You have notorious conversational skills, and I will venture as far as to say that you may actually harm our chances. No, Damien, you may pursue whatever you wish, and I will take care of Lord Rowley."

Damien chuckled, clapping his friend on the shoulder amiably. "You are as sharp as ever, Gerard. I wish you luck in your inquiries." With that, he moved away from the dance floor, scanning the room for any sign of the girl. That he should have troubling finding anyone struck him as absurd, though he was reduced to the conventional manner of searching, as he had not caught the girl's scent yet.

He wandered the house for a time, though his search was slowed considerably, as he was drawn into conversation repeatedly by acquaintances and friends. A small group of young ladies seemed to be dogging his footsteps as he proceeded about the house---they were always about twenty paces behind him, but their constant whispering and tittering had begun to wear on his nerves. Seeking to escape their pursuit, he stepped out into the garden. Tall hedges lined the paths, and it was set up to mimic a labrynth. The cool breeze removed the clinging scent of the ballroom. The refreshing flavor of night and greenery greeted him like a friend, and the darkness folded him into its arms welcomingly.

Here, in his element, he was easily able to escape the tipsy women. The sound of their foolish giggling faded as he penetrated farther into the gardens. Relaxing a little, he slowed his pace. The cool night air was a blessing after the crowded house. The faint breeze brought him news of couples that hid in the dark, their scents tainted with lust and desire. It seemed that Mr. Kingsley had been unable to contain his ardor this night.

Damien altered his path, not wishing to encounter the couple as they engaged in such activities. The breeze changed direction subtly, and a new scent was borne to him. Damien's first reaction was repulsion. Lord Rowley's rich scent was unmistakable. Had the disgusting gentleman decided to take a turn in the garden as well? He had almost turned back, preferring to intrude upon Mr. Kingsley and his fiancee than meet the portly Lord, when an undertone to the scent caught his attention. The sweet, enticing scent of a virgin had been all but smothered by the overpowering stench of Lord Rawley.

Intrigued, he paused. Yes, there, if he looked closely, it was clear that the Lord's scent was stale and cold---merely a lingering smell. Smiling devilishly, Damien started forward again. He could only think of one young lady who had any business covered in Lord Rowley's musk, and if she was alone, as she seemed, well, that suited his purposes perfectly.

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Isobel walked further into the gardens as she was unsure if Lord Rowley would be able to spot her from where she stood near the entrance to the gardens. The night air was cool and caused her skin to pebble as goose pimples broke out on her arms. It was a little chillier than she had at first thought and she hesitated debating whether or not to risk returning to the ball room and fetching her cloak but she decided against it as she really did not want to run into that man again. She sighed as she imagined the conversation that she just knew would be waiting for her when she and her family returned home later in the evening. Her mother no doubt would be praising Lord Rowley to the highest degree and listing all the reasons why he would be a perfect match for Isobel. Her father would merely stand by the fireplace enjoying his glass of brandy and allowing his wife to dominate the conversation, it was not that he was a weak man nor too mild mannered he was just simply content to let his wife take charge in this matter. Though if he strongly disagreed he would make this known and when he did he was usually obeyed. But from the way her father behaved she guessed he did not disapprove of the possible match and so Isobel would have a fight on her hands. She was determined to refuse but knew that she would anger both of her parents and it would be a long night before they finally allowed her to bed.

She spotted a bench set back a little way from the main walkways almost hidden by the fronds of a large willow tree and Isobel made for it as it was an ideal place to hide for a while. She could not remain outside long as it would cause too much speculation as to where she was but she had a little while before she had to face the gauntlet again. She settled herself on the bench and wrapped her arms about herself for warmth, it was a clear sky that night and the sky was filled with stars. She gazed up at them lost in thought as for some inexplicible reason her thoughts turned to the man she had glimpsed standing near the dancefloor. She had not really gotten a proper look at him but she remembered a flash of dark eyes and the hint of an amused smile on his lips. She could not say why she had remembered him nor why he was now in her thoughts there was simply something about him. She would have to ask Caroline if she knew who he was. Caroline kept herself well informed on the comings and goings of the ton and if anyone were to know it was she. Isobel envied her close friend as she had already met a man with whom she was happy to spend the rest of her life with. She was betrothed to Viscount Wooding's son William who was a young relatively handsome man of reasonable means. He was not in the upper echelons of society but his family had a good enough reputation and wealth for her family to be pleased with the match. Caroline herself was smitten with him and he with her and so it was no hardship for them to be enagaged.

To Isobel the worst thing she could imagine was being chained in a loveless marriage, she already detested the idea of simply being someone's wife and providing him with children without it having to be with someone she did not like. If it were up to her she would only marry if she wanted to and even then would not allow her freedom to be taken away. But she kept such opinions to herself as they were not popular and were considered improper conversations for a lady of breeding. She shivered again and hugged herself more tightly knowing she would have to return soon but wanting to avoid it as long as possible.

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Damien watched her in silence. He was hidden in the dark shadow of one of the tall hedges that lined the pathways. A distance of only about 20 paces separated them, but she did not appear to have noticed his presence as of yet. The darkness wrapped around him like a lover, hiding him from the gaze of idle onlookers. He took his time examining her appearance. Her dress complimented her figure and long, dark hair well. The cold glow of the moon dappled her skin; the long, weary fronds of the willow framed her. She shivered a little, but did not make to move from her seat. Her scent was strong now; the traces of Lord Rowley had faded with the evening breeze. It was an enticing scent: untainted by other men.

He wondered briefly what kind of creature she was. She had the spirit to leave a wealthy Lord alone upon the dance floor, at least. Perhaps she had spirit enough to ignore propriety as well. What he was about to do was extremely improper. There was a chance she would be sent scurrying back into the house by his forwardness, but it mattered little to him. She posed a simply irresistible temptation.

Stepping out of the shadows and onto the moonlit path, he advanced along towards her, hands clasped behind his back casually. "Greetings, Miss," he said with a small bow. "I did not expect to find a young lady such as yourself unchaperoned in this place." His lips curved into a smirk. "Pray, tell me, what is your name?"

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Isobel looked up as she heard footsteps approach and for a moment wondered if Lord Rowley had found her but it was not he standing before her. It was the man that had only just been in her thoughts, the man who had been watching the dancers with that strange expression of half amusement and half boredom. Close up she was able to get a proper look at him and to her pleasure he was a complete contrast to Lord Rowley. He was tall for one thing at least five inches taller than she and had dark hair and eyes. He was without doubt a handsome man and she imagined he was very popular with the young ladies. But there was more to him that as he seemed to radiate a heady mix of danger and the promise of seduction.

"Greetings, Miss," he said with a small bow. "I did not expect to find a young lady such as yourself unchaperoned in this place." His lips curved into a smirk. "Pray, tell me, what is your name?"His voice as he spoke was calm but with an edge to it she could not identify.
Isobel was at a loss as to whether she should answer or return to the house, her schooling demanded the latter as it was extremely improper to be alone with a man she had not yet been introduced to. Yet the part of Isobel that was herself rebelled at such restrictions. Her spirit longed for freedom and so on impulse she decided to stay for a little while and enjoy just a small taste of what it would be like to live a life without restrictions.

"Greetings Sir, I am Isobel Marwick." She said quietly and although she was nervous and a little frightened she was determined not to show it. She met his gaze with a direct one of her own.
"No I suppose it is unexpected that I am here and yet I am here alone regardless. And you? Are you not enjoying the ball?"

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Miss Marwick's eyes met his without modesty, and a thrill ran through him. She was defiant, this one. Trying to control the smirk that wished to curl his lips upward, he bowed once more. "Damien Roskin, at your service," he murmured. Her spirit seemed a tangible thing---restrained only by the chains placed upon her by society. He could feel the desire to remove those shackles rising in him. He would show her, if she was amenable, the thrills of life without such restraints.

"I admit to having a rather marked aversion for balls as a whole," he confessed, "though I have enjoyed this particular ball more than I am used to." He paused, then continued slowly. "And you? Is there a particular gentleman you are hoping to avoid? Or perhaps you are awaiting a beau," he suggested. His eyes glinted mischieviously. "In the case of the latter, I do hope I am not inconveniencing you."

His eyes trailed along her exposed skin, lingering at the pale milkiness around her collarbone. In his mind, he could see the crimson vintage of her veins sliding thickly across the unblemished expanse. There was no urgency in the daydream, for he had already had his weekly fix just the previous night, though it had been less than appetizing. Fresh blood was far superior to the stale, cooled stuff he had been used to of late.

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Isobel felt strangely warm as she saw his eyes trail slowly across her skin, suddenly the air did not seem quite so chilly. She thought she should be ashamed of her behaviour and yet what she actually felt was liberated. Yes this was improper and yes it was scandalous and yet it was oddly thrilling and she did not want the feeling to disappear any time soon.
"Perhaps as a lady I should not admit to agreeing with you but I find most often balls are not to my taste either. So much of it is politics and proper behaviour and I often find it dreadfully dull."
She smiled then imagining the look of horror on her mama's face if she heard her speaking in such tones of a subject her mama considered to be the lifeblood of ladies of good breeding.

"You are observant to have noticed that I am avoiding someone's notice." She said and then frowned. "My mama thinks he will make a good match for me but if I am forced to spend any more time in his company I think I will go mad."
She stopped then surprised at how easily she talked with this man, after all he was a stranger to her and one that did not act as a gentleman should or at least not as she had been taught they should at any rate. She wondered if that was why she was enjoying his company so much because he acted differently to all the other men of her acquaintance. Whilst most of them were perfectly pleasant she found them to be frightfully dull and resented the fact that most expected her to simply sit there and smile. Whenever she made an intelligent comment they looked surprised and often did not know how to respond.

"Perhaps I am being too forward but would you like to sit with me awhile?" Isobel said quickly frightened she would lose her nerve. "I cannot stay much longer but a few moments more."

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Damien smiled at Miss Marwick's invitation. Drawing closer to her, he appraised her once more, and found that his original opinion had not been incorrect: her allure and charms were of the kind not commonly met with. He refrained from commenting on her lack of propriety, feeling that now was not the time to rile her, and instead seated himself upon the bench next to her. The seat had obviously been made to accomodate persons of intimate relation, for even though he sat as far as he could from her, her body heat still touched him, and scant inches separated them. "It is a marvelous view," he commented, surveying the gardens laid out before them. The moonlit path shone pale in the moonlit, framed by the dark bars of dangling willow boughs. The faint scent of perfume and silk reached him even here, secluded in a corner of the extensive gardens.

"May I presume to inquire as to the nature of the gentleman you so dearly wish to avoid?" He asked lightly. There was no need for her to know that he already knew exactly which overbearing, repulsive lout had so terrorized her up until now. Many would have said Lord Rowley was not one to be trifled with, but it was a peerless challenge in Damien's eyes. A rat among mice could not harm an owl.

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#, as written by Belynta
Isobel watched as he moved to sit beside her and she felt torn between jumping up away from him and moving closer to his warmth. She did not know what it was about this man that caused such a riot of emotions to well up inside her. He made her feel a mixture of attraction and fear and the two had become so intertwined that she had no idea which one was which or which one she felt most. It was different to the fear and repulsion she felt from Lord Rowley's presence. When around that man her entire skin crawled and her instinct was to flinch whenever he went to touch her. Yet this man seated beside her whom she knew next to nothing about fascinated her and made her want to forget propriety and safety and just give in to her inner instincts. In her life she had never felt such tumultuous emotions and she had no idea what to make of them. All she knew was that she both wanted and feared this man in equal measure and that in itself frightened her.

He was warm as he sat beside her and his thigh touched hers due to the limited space on the seat which was clearly designed for those wanting to be a great deal closer than propriety allowed. She could just imagine what her mother would say if she could see what her daughter was doing practically under her nose and the expression she could picture almost made her laugh out loud. She almost wished she could stay outside all night just to see how truly shocked her mother would be. She knew those were wicked thoughts but she could not help having them. She heard Damien ask her about the man she was trying to avoid and her thoughts returned to why she had escaped to the garden in the first place.

"I know it is ill mannered to speak such about a gentleman but Lord Rowley in my opinion falls far short on what makes a man a noble. It is not just his roaming eyes or hands though they are bad enough. It is also his words and the way he speaks that is offensive to me." Isobel said quietly.
"I have known you for only a few moments and yet in that time you have behaved in a more gentlemanly fashion than he has on multiple occasions. And yet I have a horrid feeling he will be the one I am forced to spend the rest of my life with."
Isobel realised then that she was hoping that this man could offer her a way out from that possibility and the thought scared her more than anything else had about this man. What was it about him that evoked such a strong response from her? Whatever the reason she could not allow it to continue and she knew she had to bring this dangerous behaviour to an end now. She had enjoyed these moments of living free of restriction but they were dangerous and potentially ruinous.

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"Ah. It is Lord Rowley who has so awakened your dislike," he murmured. "I admit a small distaste for him myself, though I daresay it has increased in strength in the past few moments." He smiled, glancing over to gauge her reaction. He took great pleasure in her conversation, as it was both refreshing and insightful, and he enjoyed nothing so much as abandoning propriety with such blatant disregard. Engrossed in her company, Damien was not quite so circumspect as he might have been otherwise, and so failed to notice the approach of a small group of people until they were almost upon the secluded hiding spot.

Looking hurriedly at the path, he glanced back at Miss Marwick momentarily. This was certainly a compromising situation. Of course, he could easily escape back into the night without notice, but it was clear to him that Lord Rowley and Gerard were among the party, and he did not wish to abandon her to the Lord's repulsive company for the rest of the evening. He waited until the party had advanced up the path a few yards more before he cleared his throat gently and gestured to the path. "It seems we will not enjoy our privacy much longer. Please forgive me for placing you in such a compromising position." So saying, Damien rose from his seat next to the young lady and moved a few paces off. Perhaps the group would pass by entirely without noticing them.

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#, as written by Belynta
(OOC- sorry for the short post but I was in a hurry, my next one will be better. Promise!"
Isobel looked in the direction he indicated and sighed when she saw the party approaching. Their timing could not be worse as this was not a good position for her to be caught in and being compromised would ruin her and her family. As much as she hated her mother's attempts to marry her off she still loved her family and sis not want to bring ruin down on their heads. She knew there was a chance that they would pass them by but she was unwilling to take the risk. She saw Damien blend in with the darkness and nodded slightly to him as a thank you for keeping her company. She then straightened her skirts and stepped out on the path planning to head the group off before they reached her secluded place. She did not relish more of Lord Rowley's company but at least this time he was not alone and so could not really do too many unpleasant things with others watching.

She curtsied as they approached and waited for them to greet her as was proper.

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Damien waited until the party had passed by to emerge from the shadows. He trailed behind the party, strolling leisurely along the garden path for a time, before he struck out onto another path. With luck, he would be able to intercept the party before they entered the house again in order to secure a proper introduction. As he ambled through the garden, he mused over all he'd learned of Miss Marwick.

Rebellious. Damnably pretty. Spirited. Intriguing. She seemed not to have been prey to rumors that circulated about him as of yet, though he doubted this would remain so for long. If she merely mentioned his name to any young lady who knew her way about London society, she'd be regalled with scandalous whispers and petty gossip. Damien was full aware of his reputation. At best, he was an outrageous flirt, and at worst, sinister and potentially dangerous. He'd had his share of women, in more ways and places and times than the innocent Miss Marwick would ever deign to imagine. On the whole, women were not a mystery to him. The young lady he'd had the pleasure of meeting this evening, however, was a breath of fresh air compared to the monotony of the usual young women of the Ton. Perhaps this Season would provide some entertainment beyond its normal scope.

The path he was following turned sharply, and he found, to his delight, that it intersected the path upon which he'd left Gerard and Miss Marwick. He emerged from the concealing shrubbery just as they where coming upon the intersection. There was no chance that they would not meet.

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#, as written by Belynta
Isobel waited as the party approached unable to ignore the look of glee in Lord Rowley's eyes, the man really was an odius toad, he sped up at the sight of her forcing those with him to quicken their pace as well. After all it would not do for Lord Rowley to appear to not want to spend time in their company. Isobel tore her gaze from the repellant man to cast her eyes over the rest of the group realising as she did so that she was not familiar with those accompnied Lord Rowley. A tall man fairly attractive walked beside the Lord and could not have appeared more different to the rotund red cheeked lord. The tall man was thin and his skin was a healthy hue rather than overly bright. He smiled in greeting when the party stopped to acknowledge her as was proper. She curtsied as they stopped and then stood again waiting for them to introduce themselves to her. It galled her to have to wait for an introduction before being able to converse properly. It seemed an overly boorish tradition and one that was old fashioned in the extreme but no one was willing to hear the opinion of a young lady. Ladies were meant to smile prettily and sing beautifully, not debate about society and politics.

"Ah there you are miss marwick." Lord Rowley said smiling, his tone hinting at a familiarity that made Isobel bristle with indignation. She would not have it rumoured that she and the lord were well aquainted.
"Good evening Lord Rowley." Isobel responded coolly.
She listened and smiled politely as the others introduced themselves but in all honesty did not pay as much attention as perhaps she should have. Her mind was elsewhere thinking of a certain man she had just been alone with. She had already sensed that the man definitly had the potential to be dangerous and yet she could not remove him from her thoughts. She hoped fervantly, despite her her earlier misgivings, that she had not seen the last of him. Even if nothing could come of it she thought he would at least ease the unending tedium she felt during her come out. It was supposed to be an exciting time for a young debutante but Isobel had never been able to muster much enthusiasm. The thought that she was simply trying to attract a husband for her to become a possession of struck her as abhorant and not something to yearn or strive for.

It was as they begun strolling down the path again and were approaching an intersection when she spotted the man step out from the secluded path. Her heart jumped as she saw it was Damien Roskin the very man so present in her thoughts. She could not help but look at him and wondered if the wry smile on his lips was at her or at her company. The party slowed as it reached the newcomer and she saw the tall man smile broadly and she surmised that they were already aquainted. lord Rowley chose that moment to sidle up next to her and place her hand on his arm in a very forward and possessive manner. Isobel froze partly in anger and partly in fear as she was unsure how to get him to leave her be without causing a scandal. She realised she would just have to bear it even if it was improper as she had not asked not given permission for him to touch her. She plastered a fixed smile on her face and waited to be formally introduced to the man she had already met.

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"Damien, you rascal, where have you been? I thought I'd have to send out a search and rescue before the night was through," cried Gerard. Damien advanced along the path, stopping a few feet short of the group. His eyes flickered momentarily to Miss Marwick before they settled on the amiable visage of his friend.

"Nonsense, Gerard," he replied cooly. "I merely encountered a rather singular flower in the course of my walking." His eyes twinkled at the metaphor. Le Feuvre was not appeased by this explanation, and he gave his friend a calculating look before he turned back to the others who stood waiting patiently behind them. He proceeded to conduct the introductions, skipping over the Lord altogether, as they had already been acquainted on a previous occassion. "And this," he murmured, "is Miss Marwick. I have tried, altogether unsuccessfully, to persuade Lord Rowley to relinquish his monopoly upon her, though I must admit to a measure of failure in that respect." There was genuine regret in his tone, and Damien smirked to himself. His poor friend was too constrained by appearance and decorum. He thanked his stars that such a lot had not fallen to him. He abhorred the notion of living one's life always directed by a set of rules of engagement and conversation. How odious.

Damien bowed, and, when he was sure no one was looking, winked ever so slightly at the lady in question. Gerard seemed to have met with defeat in his attempt to secure a dance with Miss Marwick. He was confident that he would not encounter the same fate. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he murmured, bowing and kissing Miss Marwick's hand politely. "Though if Lord Rowley is monopolizing you, we will lose one of the crowning jewels of the entire evening."

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#, as written by Belynta
Isobel had to bite back a smile as she saw Damien wink at her, as showing such unseemly pleasure at his company was simply not done. She stood quietly as Gerard made the introductions and she noticed the other young lady in the group blush prettily when she was introduced to Damien. Isobel felt a flash of possessiveness as she saw her eyeing him up when she thought no one was looking. The strength of the feeling surprised Isobel as she barely knew the man. But she was a;so surprised by the relief she felt when she saw that Damien looked totally uninterested in the other young woman. It surprised her that he wasn't as miss Cecelia Haversham was the toast of the ton. As with Isobel it was her first season and yet unlike Isobel's hers had been incredibly successful. But then she had exactly the looks and figure that was all the rage amongst the elite. Her hair was curled prettily around her face and her skin was pale and creamy with a rosebud mouth and pert nose. Her figure was slim almost to the point of boyish. All in all she looked like a fragile doll allbeit a pretty one. In contrast Isobel was taller and had a more curvacous figure with fuller hips and bosom.

She saw Cecelia's eyes narrow as Damien bowed over Isobel's hand and flattered her yet she did not care. Let the pretty thing envy her for once rather than the other way around. She also felt Lord Rowley's hand tighten on her arm and she winced as his fingers bit into her skin. She tried to hide the wince but thought that Damien may have spotted it as he was observant. Regardless Isobel had had enough of the toads behavious and was not willing to tolerate anymore, Scandal or no scandal this man would be put in his place! She glanced at the man and her eyes were cold yet her voice was nothing but icily polite.

"Whilst I appreciate that you have honoured me with your attentions Lord Rowley, we are not affianced and as such I request that you would kindly remove your hand from my arm."
Isobel ignored the gasp from Cecelia and kept her eyes on the man she addressed, in complete opposite to what she had said he tightened his grip. He looked at the others and laughed.
"She jests well does she not?"
Isobel eyes narrowed in fury and she tried to pull her arm away but he was stronger than she and he really was hurting her. She stood angry and helpless thinking of no way to get him to leave her alone, she looked at Damien a plea in her eyes.

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((Isobel's mother is among the party, is she not?))

Damien did not miss the desperate look Miss Marwick sent his way as the Lord blatantly opposed her wishes. A white flare of anger seared through him, and he was forced to take a moment to control it before he addressed the situation. It was obvious that Lord Rowley had not failed to notice Miss Marwick's charms, which was probably the reason that he had so attached himself to her. Begrudgingly, Damien was forced to admit that even the most repulsive recognized beauty and strength when they saw it. Unlike the Lord, however, Damien felt no desire whatsoever to break her spirit. Her independence and strength was admirable, not to mention enticing.

Clearing his throat, he glanced at Gerard, who did not miss the pointed look directed his direction, and promptly came to Damien's aid. Damien addressed Mrs. Marwick, all smiles and compliments, while his friend attempted, rather forcefully at this point, to extricate the unwanted noble from his victim. "Mrs. Marwick, I do hope your daughter is not engaged for the evening, as I would like to express my desire to retain her company for myself," he smiled. "It is far too early in the Season for her to have been snatched up already, is it not?"

Gerard seemed to be having mild success in luring Rowley away from Miss Marwick with promises of wine and food back inside the house. The man appeared torn. Damien glared at his back, willing him to release his grip on Isobel's arm, where, he could tell, there would be a mark later. The thought sent another flash of anger through him. How he would relish the opportunity to put this toad in his place if it ever arose.

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#, as written by Belynta
Isobel breathed a sigh of relief as the horrible man finally released her arm, there was an angry mark from where he had gripped it and she rubbed at it quietly when she thought no one was looking even though all she wanted to do was cry as it had hurt more then she had let on. She smiled thankfully at Damien and thought how much more enjoyable her evening would be if she could spend the evening with him instead of with Lord Rowley or in some ways worse her mother. She glanced at her mother and noticed she was frowning and Isobel felt her stomach sink, her mothers expression boded ill for Isobel when they returned home though for the life of her Isobel could not work out why her mother was so angry. Damien was a very attractive man and had been nothing but a gentleman and from the cut and tailoring of his clothes she thought he must be wealthy. Her mother surely should be trying to throw the two of them together not looking like she wanted to yank her daughter away from the man. As Isobel thought on it she remembered the look her friend had given her earlier when she had mentioned Damien, Caroline had said anything aloud but for a few moments she had looked concerned. Isobel made a mental note to talk to her friend to find out what she had heard about the mysterious Damien Roskin.

"Whilst we are honoured by your invitation Mr Roskin, it is time my daughter and I retired for the evening." Lady Roskin said stiffly.
Isobel felt a flash of irritation at her mothers words and saw the others nearby look surprised, though it was late in the evening the ball would continue for many hours and many would not retire until the early morning hours and Lady Marwick was usually one of the ones who remained later than the hour.
With a sigh of regret that Isobel hoped was not audible she looked back at Damien, she doubted that she would get much opportunity to be with him again if her mother disapproval was anything to go by and that made her feel sad, which confused her as her mind and body did not know from one moment to the next whether she should fear or want Damien Roskin. But she knew one thing and that was that he made her feel like an intelligent beautiful woman and not some trophy on a mans arm.
"Come Isobel the hour is late and we must find your father." Lady Marwick said firmly.
"Thank you for the invitation Mr Roskin, perhaps another time." She could not help emphasise the last words and then flushed slightly at how brazen she had become.

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#, as written by Belynta
Isobel finished brushing out her long dark hair and the silken strands now fell down her back in somewhat neater waves, her hair was wont to curl and even restraining it with hairpins did not work for long. It was a continued irritation to her mother who seemed to want her to be more like Ceclia Haversham whose hair always stayed perfectly in place. But the likelihood of that happening was slim in the extreme and Isobel had no intention of making it any more likely. Thinking of her mother unfortunately reminded her of the unpleasant conversation she had been forced to sit through when they had arrived home from the ball. Her father had wanted to retire for the evening but her mother was having none of it, she had marched her daughter into the library and told her in no uncertain terms to sit and not move until they had finished. Her father had reluctantly joined them and took up his usual position of leaning against the fireplace.

Her mother had preceded to lecture her on how her behaviour towards Lord Rowley was unacceptable and how for the good of the family she should be more amenable to the man's advances. Isobel had hotly refused stating point blank that she would never marry such a man and had listed Damien Roskin as an example of why he was more of a gentleman than Rowley. Her mother had reddened with anger and had been about to continue her tirade when Isobel's father had stepped in. He had paled slightly at the warmth in his daughters words when she spoke of Roskin. He had sat beside her and took his daughters hands in his own.
"Isobel, Mr Roskin is not a man you should want to associate with."
"Why not papa?" Isobel had asked in confusion, yes the man had attracted her and frightened her in equal measure but he had behaved as the perfect gentleman.
"I am surprised you have not heard already what with the rumours circulating about that man." Her mother had snapped.
"Rumours?" Isobel had asked.

Her father had then gone on to tell her all he knew of Mr Roskin and Isobel had paled as she listened and even now standing safe in her own bedchamber she felt cold. She was unsure on what to believe, was Damien really as bad as the rumours suggested? He had certainly frightened her but not due to him hurting or threatening her. Yet if the rumours were to be believed he was a danger to her. She moved to the window and stared out into the night her mind a confused jumble of thoughts.

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Damien strolled along the avenue quietly, his observant gaze sliding over the fine houses he passed. It was by now very late, and he met no one as he continued along the path. The moon was full and ripe at its apex---illuminating the street in a silvery-blue light. Seen from one of the windows that overlooked the street, he appeared nothing more than an innocent (if nocturnal) passerby.

It had been torture attempting to extricate himself from the clutches of the ball after Miss Marwick had departed. One young lady after another had endeavored to make his acquaintance, and he had been forced to subject himself to several unpleasant dancing partners before he managed to make his escape, pleading weariness when in fact he couldn't have felt more awake. The night was crisp and refreshing---an exhilerating night for a hunt, though he felt no pangs of thirst. His intentions in these parts of London were less than pure: he had traced (with some difficulty) Miss Marwick's faint scent back to this street from the ball. He did not expect to meet her again---indeed he would be hard pressed to fabricate an excuse for his presence if he did---but merely wished to familiarize himself with the area in which she lived.

Farther along the street, he could see that a window stood open. The breeze wafted a scent towards him, and he was pleasantly surprised to recognize Miss Marwick's distinct musk. Quickening his pace a bit, he strode down the street purposefully, eyes fixed on the open window. Mere feet stood between the open window and himself when, to his immense surprise, a figure emerged into sight. In one glance he see that it was female, and far less than appropriately clad. Another moment and he was able to ascertain that it was indeed the young lady with whom he had been speaking earlier that evening. It was too late to avoid being seen, and so he slowed his pace, hoping to enjoy the sight of her exposed skin for a few seconds longer.

His eyes slid across the pale expanse slowly, a reverent caress. The nightgown she was wearing did little to conceal her figure, and Damien gazed appreciatively at the exposed curves. She was the essence of everything natural and innocent in those few moments, and the images would stick with him long after she had withdrawn from his sight.

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#, as written by Belynta
Isobel stared out into the night enjoying the peacefulness of the streets below, none were abroad at this hour as any normal person would have long retired to their homes unless of course any gentleman were on their way home from their clubs. But she saw no sign of anyone and breathed deeply enjoying the quiet and the cool breeze on her skin. Her mind was still in turmoil about a certain Mr Roskin and she could not seem to quiet it, had he really done those awful things her father had told her? And if he had why had he not been brought to justice. She saw in her minds eye his handsome features and piercing gaze and shuddered slightly. She was forced to admit that he brought out strong reactions in her but she had so little experience of men that she did not know if this was normal or not. She could not deny the attraction she had felt but wondered if being frightened of him was something normal in these cases or a sign that he was the evil man her father claimed.

Sighing she was about to turn away when a flash of movement from the street below caught her attention, she looked back and saw to her shock that a man stood staring at her. After a moment she realised with a start that she recognised the man as none other than Damien Roskin, he stood watching her seemingly uncaring that she could see him. For a moment she stood frozen unable to look away almost as though he had cast a spell on her. She knew that she should withdraw further into her room out of sight as it was highly inappropriate for him to see her in such a state of undress but her feet would not move. She felt a thrill course through her at his gaze and even though she could not see his expression she could feel his admiration almost as though he spoke the words to her.

How long she stood frozen she had no idea and what would have happened if she had not heard a knock on her bedroom door she had no way of knowing. But the noise broke the spell and she flushed a bright red at the realisation of how forward her behaviour was, why she was acting no better than a brazen hussy! She quickly stepped back away from the window and sank down onto the bed her knees suddenly weak.
"Isobel are you still awake?" Her mothers voice came through the door.
Not able to face her mother right then she did not answer and after a time she heard her mothers footsteps recede away from her door, she clambered into bed and tried to push the events of the evening from her mind. Eventually she succumbed to sleep though her dreams were filled with Damien.

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Damien narrowed his eyes against a ray of bright sunlight that had managed to penetrate through a gap in the thick curtains he'd instructed his servants to draw across all of the windows on his house. The golden light stabbed at his eyes mercilessly, and he tugged the drapes closed irritably. Grogginess clouded his mind. He'd only just risen from sleep, though the aged grandfather clock that stood in the hallway marked the time well past the afternoon hour.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he cast his mind back over the events of the day before. His brief encounter with Miss Marwick in her nightgown was yet to be resolved. They had not spoken, though he had the distinct impression that they might have, had she not been sent scurrying back into the darkness of her room by some unknown disturbance. The memory of her figure brought a small smile to his face.

Still deep in thought, he hardly noticed what his manservant was dressing him in for the day, and only became fully aware of his surroundings once more when he was asked what he would like to eat. His household had long since grown accustomed to his odd habits. He made some vague reply, and returned to his pondering, proceeding from recollections of the previous night to consideration of the evening to come. Gerard was stopping by for a visit within the hour to collect him for their customary afternoon ride. Perhaps the evening would afford another chance to meet Miss Marwick. The though pleased him considerably, though he had no doubt she would inquire to his mysterious presence outside her house the night before. It was possible that he was overestimating her, but he thought that such a minor incident could hardly deter her from enjoying his company once more, should the opportunity arise. Scandalous or not, she obviously preferred his company far above Lord Rowley's.

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#, as written by Belynta
Isobel woke the next day feeling surprisingly refreshed even though her night had been disturbed by strange dreams of Damien Roskin. She felt heat rise in her cheeks as she remembered the content of one of the dreams. It was certainly not the sort of dream a virgin debutantue such as herself was supposed to have and she knew her mother would have an appolexy if she ever discovered them. But Isobel had decided long ago that she was different from most other young women in her way of thinking and in this matter it was the same. She was of the opinion that you could not control what you dreamed and so could not be judged as impure for any scandolous events depicted in them. Besides she admitted to herself that she had enjoyed them even if they had left her feeling a strange mixture of frustration and fear, she had woken after the particularly intimate dream to feel her whole body tingling. She had ached for something though for what she, in her innocence, did not know. It had been frightening and very disconcerting. She decided that it would be for the best if she put all thoughts of the man from her mind as the likelihood of seeing him again was slim, especially given her parents opintion of him. Though she knew she should heed their warnings and stay away from him all she wanted to do was be in his presence again and see for herself whether there was any truths to the rumors about him.

She spent the morning reading or working on her embroidery under her mothers watchful gaze and chafed at every moment of it. She had always preferred to be out riding or visiting friends rather than sitting doing embroidery. She hated it and had never been particularly skilled at the task, she scowled through most of the morning after pricking her thumb many times with the needle. Eventually the day wore on to afternoon and Isobel visibly brightened as she and Caroline had arranged a jaunt in the park and Isobel wanted to hear what she thought on Damien Roskin. They would be chaperoned by Caroline's older brother Edward who was in town visiting friends. He usually rode ahead though giving the two women plenty of space to discuss women's business as he called it. Isobel retired to her room to change and with the aid of her maid hetty she changed into a dark green riding habit. Hetty brushed her silken locks and twisted them into a simple chignon at the nape of her neck and then placed her riding bonnet over the top.

Caroline had already arrived and was seated in the receiving room taking tea with her mother, Caroline was well liked by her mother as she felt she was appropriate company for her wayward daughter. It was why she had not objected to the two riding together as she was sure Caroline would prevent her daughter from getting into too much mischief.
"We are off mother." Isobel said as she entered the room. "Have you plans for the afternoon?"
"Yes my dear, Lady Rotherham is coming for tea. We have much to discuss you see."
Isobel winced as she remembered that Lady Rotherham had a son slightly older than she was, if she remembered him correctly he was a pleasant enough young man if a little dull.
"Well I am sure you two will have a most enjoyable time." She said brightly as she tugged Caroline towards the door.

"Honestly sometimes I wonder if a stork brought me to her, how can we possibly be related!" Isobel said with exasperation some time later as they rode through the park. Caroline smiled patiently used to her friends frustrations with her parents. She patted the neck of her chesnut mare as she listened to her friend rant. Caroline looked very feching in a pale blue riding habit and matching bonnet and she caught many admiring glances from gentlemen also frequenting the park. Isobel finally fell silent stroking her own grey mare's neck.
"She only wants what is best for you, you know." Caroline finally said.
"I know but that does not make it any less irritating." She replied.

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0 sightings Damien Roskin played by songstar13
This gentleman is anything but.

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[OOC] Blood and Lace

This is the auto-generated OOC topic for the roleplay "Blood and Lace"

You may edit this first post as you see fit.