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Duty & Honor Before Love

Duty & Honor Before Love


Private Regency era RP: For all its excess the Regency upper-class lived and died by rules, habitually fixed and inflexible rules - enhance the family's wealth, power and prestige. Keep the family name respectable. [Closed]

1,759 readers have visited Duty & Honor Before Love since Xistinna created it.




Firstly, let me point out that this is a private roleplay of 3. What this means is that the RP is Co-GM by all 3 members, and together we work toward writing a quality fictional story, a story revolving the romantic era of the Regency. There are only 3 main characters, and this story revolves around their lives. Each one is equally important to the story. We hope you like what you read, and we encourage you to give us your feedback on the “feedback OOC” page created just for our reading guests.

The Setting
The year is 1816! The Prince Regent continues to be the “Pied Piper” of his generation – flamboyantly leading the way for the arts and fondness of earthly pleasures. The waltz was still the rage, Emma by Jane Austen was the popular literature, gas lighting was a common feature, America had won independence, Napoleon was exiled to St Helena, the English Corn Laws restricted corn imports, income tax was abolished, and Beau Brummell is on everyone’s tongue for fleeting to France to escape his creditors.

The times were changing and the summer 1816 was becoming the “Summer that Never Was”. Severe summer climate abnormalities caused average global temperatures to decrease, resulting in major food shortages across Western Europe. Cool temperatures and heavy rains resulted in failed harvest in Britain. Food prices rose sharply. Refugees from Ireland, Germany, and Wales traveled long distances begging for food. It was not uncommon for the elite to be heckled outside theater houses, muggings were widespread throughout London, demonstrations in front of grain markets and bakeries, followed by riots, arson, and looting, were a common occurrence.

Background Story
The Duke of St Albans was a man of his time, a man who lusted after beautiful woman and drank the nights away in the most exclusive gambling houses of London. He led the way in almost every form of vice a man of his status can endeavor. He was a man of privileged and of honorable reputation, and he always paid his debts. But his finances were dwindling and he found himself cornered by the sharp tongue of his mother. Vexed by her son’s careless lifestyle and flagrant disregard to his obligations to the family, his debts were crippling the family’s funds, she demanded he get married and marry money. He could no longer afford the luxury of marrying for love. She shamed him into his obligations as the only heir. To appease his mother the Duke agreed. He will find a bride, a rich bride of his choosing.

The summer season had just begun in London. Against the background of depressing weather, the Ton slowly made their way to London, and soon lights on the windows of the fashionable addresses of Grosvenor Square, Mayfair, St James Square, and Piccadilly were lit. Galas were planned, invitations were sent, and the gossip begun.

This Summer Beau Brummell was on everyone’s wicked tongue. A man whose fashionable sense and style was copied by the Ton and the Prince Regent himself, but nonetheless a man of opulence with small capital who could not afford the life he so desperately wished. Many doors were closed to his face no thanks to the Ton and the Prince Regent. His fleeting to France to escape his creditors was a scandal often referred with comical tinged.

But of course he was but one of the gossips spread by the card-playing elderly Ladies of the Ton. A much more salacious gossip was the sudden death of Jasper Coutts, of Coutts & Co, the royal bank. He married a social climber, an actress at that, and now she had inherited all of his wealth, rumored to be over two million pounds. This was the cause of much envied among the ladies, especially those whose purse-strings depended on a stipend from their husbands. But none would dare pass an invitation to Cressica’s galas and festivities for they were becoming quite the favorite of the Ton.

And on a much pleasant topic but a rumor nonetheless was the young debutante Catherine Mesons, daughter of the recently Knighted, Sir Edward Mesons one of the wealthiest men in London. She was a celebrated beauty with a proper upbringing and of respectable wealth. Why she had been presented at Court by the Countess of Guildford at St. James Palace. It was highly advised by the elderly ladies of the Ton that she be a suitable match for the Duke of St Albans, who is very much in need of a wealthy wife.

  • Cressica Coutts – taken by Xistinna
  • Catherine Mesons – taken by Scarlet DuBois
  • Duke of St Albans - taken by Tempest

Element of Conflict
Our story is basically a romance between the 3 main characters. They will struggle with duty, honor, and love, against the setting of the Regency - defined by birth, title, wealth, property and occupation, with the aristocracy and gentry comprising the ruling class. We will also use the setting of 1816 and the social and political events of the times as the challenging environment to bring the world of our characters to life. This is a collaborator effort where all of our research will be shared, studied and handpicked to move the story forward.

What do we seek?
The goal of the RP has always been to start a small group of active roleplayers that enjoy writing and who want to finish the projects they start. We have met our goal and for the time being I have no desired to extend invitations. But perhaps in the future I may open the RP and welcome new characters. If you are indeed interested in participating stop by our OOC page and share your ideas.

Character Skeleton:
We will be needing not only your main characters profile but also secondary and stagnant characters to bring our RP world to life. Secondary & Stagnant characters are added here. These are characters that have a small voice or part in your character's life. Characters you need but don't want to actively post for. (i.e. Parents, Servants, Friends, Business Associates.) You can also find information which has been added to the OOC tab to help you understand the time period of the Regency. And if you are in need of help feel free to ask us. Submissions will be carefully study. Please do not be offended if we ask for changes to your character, and don't take it personal if your character isn't accepted. Images are not required.
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Personality (1-3 paragraphs): (I'm the type that feels a character's personality should be revealed as throughout the RP. A character may be one way at the beginning of an RP but somebody different at the end. Plus you may see your character in one light but my character may see them in another. This part is basically for your benefit, to help you flesh out your character, but it won't be needed for the profile)
Biography (2-5 paragraph): (I would like for this to read like biography on Wikipedia - imagine what could be said that is significant about your character's past. Usually I try to write events that have change my character on a personal level. And talk about thier relationship with those they consider important in their lives. Please try to include events of the time that may have affected your character and their family as well.)
Activity: (main/secondary/stagnant)

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

Taking place in...

Regency Era 1816 our primary setting

London, England: Summer Season of 1816

Regency Era 1816

Regency Era 1816 by Xistinna

London, England: Summer Season of 1816

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 3 authors

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cressica Coutts
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It had been a dull trip for Cressica Coutts. She stood by the wall to wall windows of the family room, looking out upon the outer gardens of the Holly Lodge Estate. The grey sky overshadowed the scenery, the walks and groves were wet and deserted, carefully trimmed trees were lustless in the dampness, and the fountains nearby did not flung their slender sheen of silvery water nor did the distant fountains rippled steadily, for they had not been turned on. “When will the rain stop? There is nothing worse than a sunless summer. I’ve a good mind to leave London and join the jolly times in Paris.”

“Nonsense,” replied Frances, “It will stop soon enough, besides we’ve been invited to Devonshire Manor, for a luncheon with the Duchess. We can’t say no. And I’ve planned us a lively summer. Rain or shine, we shall have a proper summer season in London.” She sat at the writing desk going over the invitations, picking the best of the list and setting to the side those that warranted a reply, and discarding those they will not be attending. “People expect us. Besides most will flatter you shamelessly, you will see. You will find even your enemies at your side. They all crave an invitation to your gala, Mrs. Coutts.”

“I was not planning on acting the hostess this summer,” added Cressica, with little interest.

“What! You must…It wouldn’t be a proper summer without your yearly gala, would it?” Cressica smiled amused. Frances understood her dear friend’s mood, it was the rain and being cooked up inside these walls that damper her now. There would indeed be a gala this summer by the young Mrs. Coutts if it meant she had to arrange the preparations herself.

Cressica thought the return to London was the change she needed, and wanted nothing more than to move forward with her life again. But the weather was indeed a great disappointment. She sauntered away from the window toward the rosewood pedestal desk with brass inlaid where the Countess sat. The writing box was opened and inside carelessly scattered were papers and writing materials. She reviewed one of the invitations piled to the side, and then another, and another, they were all address to the Countess. Frances grabbed the invitation from Cressica’s hand.

“I had my correspondent forwarded here. But here, this is the one you want.” She handed Cressica the invitation from the Duchess. She read it thoughtfully — Her Grace Duchess of St Albans requests the pleasure of Mrs. Coutts for a luncheon in Devonshire Manor on (date/time). – Folding the parch paper Cressica stuffed the invitation in the envelope. It was in fact addressed to her. “We must go then, we mustn’t be late.”

She moved toward the large, full length mirror and studied her mirror image as she added the finishing touches to her outfit – her beauty was stamp already on the face. It was all wrought up with her fine bones, the set of her lips, and her lustrous hair. She dressed in a white muslin dress, high in the throat, and topped with a bright green satin spencer; lined with maiden’s blush, with the ends rather low before, terminated with silk tassels. She fixed on the bonnet and feather, of the same colour and materials of her garments –The handmaind standing beside her handed her a set of pink gloves followed by her coinpurse.

“Good,” she boosted, in her old familiar manner, “Our carriage is ready. We must stop by old Mrs. Goldpin’s shop and order new wears upon our return. It shall not drag, I promise. We’ll return in time to change for the theater,” she said, displaying a reassuring smile. Frances’s steps resounded down the decorous hallway as she made her way out the room to the main entry, Cressica followed closely behind.

A four wheel Landau with tall roof, and two side panels in place, was waiting. Two horses sufficed to pull the carriage, but for show additional front pair of high-stepping horses had been requested by the Countess. The carriage was luxurious and polished with German silver. The two figures, under the escort of umbrellas, mounted the carriage seating next to each other. And their merry conversation carried away as the Landau hurried along the road.

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Catherine Mesons
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Venerable land gave away to green pastures followed by enchanted woodlands. The cycle of rolling hills and ancient landscapes passed by in wondrous awe as the carriage rumbled along the uneven roads.

Catherine Mesons sat in a lovely plain light blue carriage dress counting the splatters as they fell from the grey sky staining the windows of the well sprung luxurious carriage. Her bonnet long discarded and a simple black bowed ribbon was tied on the crown of her head as her silky golden locks rested around her shoulders like a magnificent halo. Not even the dull weather could get Cat down today. For in a few hours time they would be rolling into the fashionable streets of London.

How she had longed to go back to London again! Not that Catherine did not love living in the country but there was just something about London. The fast pace and the unending amount of entertainments one could indulge in. It was simply thrilling! She had been away much too long and this year, she would be allowed to enjoy even more. Now that she was accelerated from the class of child to that of woman.

How strange . . . Pondered Catherine with a bemused smile. That one day she was still considered a girl and all of a sudden she was to be presented to the Queen and that would make her an eligible young Lady. The odd rules of society bewildered Cat.

“Oh! To just think,” Lady Mesons shrill voice interrupted Catherine's happy musings “that at this time in two days we will be rubbing elbows with the finest of the Ton London has to offer.”

“They're just people Mama.” Catherine said exasperatedly as she continued to look out window.

Being stuck in a carriage with her uppity step mother for hours on end was not the way Catherine pictured a pleasant journey. However, she had little choice in the matter. Her father had ridden a head on his best blood horse. But at least, Catherine was not completely alone. Her Abigail, Charlotte travelled in the carriage with them, much to Lady Mesons distaste.

“Oh! Pish posh dear!” Lady Mesons waved Cat's bothersome comment away with a flicker of her wrist. “They are not just simply people! Silly child! They are better people. The best of the best! The crème de la crème!

Better then you maybe.” Catherine mumbled with irritation.

Charlotte tried to hide her chuckle which in turn caused Catherine to laugh out loud while Lady Mesons chocked on the indignation.

“Oh! Oh! You wretched girl!” Sputter Lady Mesons, her face turning a bright red in colour. “You just wait till we get to London. I'm going to wed you off to the first Lord mad enough to even entertain the thought of having a hoyden like you for a wife!”

"God forbid Mama, that a man should like to have a wife who can think for herself." Catherine replied.

"Outspoken and thinking women may do well in those romantic novels you like to read child." Lady Mesons scolded feverishly "But you would do well to remember that in true society it is meekness and a sense of transgression that wins a man's heart. Not a woman who airs her opinions freely!"

"Well, then I simply feel sorry for these dull meek women." Catherine said as she folded her arms across her chest. "What good is a husband one can not openly converse with? I rather not marry at all then be stuck with a man who thinks my only good qualities are my lack of speech and my ability to produce heirs."

"My dear, believe me, not a single person would list one of your good qualities to be a lack of speech." Lady Mesons answered adamantly. "And if you will not learn to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself then I fear you won't have a choice but to not marry! And I will not be stuck with you for another year! You will wed by the end of this Season if it kills us both and another thing . . ."

And thus continued her step mother's tirade into all the faults of her step daughter. Cat sighed as she rested back against the squabbles and listened with half an ear, watching for the first glimpses of the Capitol.

Well, at least now Charlotte and she had some entertainment for the rest of the journey . . .

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cressica Coutts
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The rain had calmed down to a steady drizzle. The Landau stopped once and turned left, steadily on Piccadilly toward St. James, and trafficking forward it finally stopped along St James Square. The next turn was the grand manor of the Duchess of St Albans. The tall gilded gates were wide open as the carriage crossed the face of the impressive property. The house had come into the possession of the Duchess upon by the marriage to the 4th Duke of St Albans. The large town house was built in typical Palladian fashion, displaying wealth and thus impressively opulent over the smaller houses in the area. It was a summer home for the Duchess and in her possession the house had come to a series of alterations through the years – a new portico had been constructed, allowing formal entrance to the ground floor. An opulent entrance hall and grand crystal staircase with glass handrail convey guests directly to the noble floor. Additionally, a vast heavily gilded ballroom had been added, causing the house to become even more of a place for display and entertaining rather than for living. The sumptuous exteriors housed a large part of the St. Albans art collection, considered one of the finest in the United Kingdom, and a renowned library, housed in a room 40ft long.

Cressica and Frances were attended to by the butler, a tall man of strong chin and sturdy nose, and two housemaids, to whom the ladies handed over their coats, hats, and gloves. From where she stood Cressica could hear a man’s voice, though the conversation was undistinguished the tone carried a tinged of anger in its volume. Curiously, she glanced around for the source of the voice, and blood rushed to her face when her eyes met the butler’s disapproving eyes. He cleared his throat and sternly looked away. Cressica understood that she should mind her own business. The Countess turned and the butler quickly escorted the invitees to the drawing room where the Duchess was waiting.

“Her Ladyship Countess of Guildford and Mrs. Coutts,” announced the butler.

The Duchess sat on a single tall back chair – she was the very image of sophistication and opulence. The aspect of her face was softened with a friendly smile, but her eyes held to them a serious and intimidating posture, which was to a degree her grace’s unrelenting charm. Seated together were Lady Byron Stanford and Lady Byron Beauchamp. Formal greetings were exchanged, and it was the Duchess who spoke first.

“Countess, Mrs. Coutts, I was pleasantly surprised to hear news of your return to London. Just yesterday I held a conversation with Her Ladyship Stanford and Her Ladyship Beauchamp in where Mrs. Coutts’s last gala was the topic. We are looking forward to attending your gala this summer, Mrs. Coutts. The weather has been disagreeable this season, and some of our dear friends have decided to pass their summer elsewhere. My social life has suffered for it. However, knowing you are back in London has changed my plans. I’ve decided to host a gala of my own. I would be eternally grateful if you would assist me with the arrangements Mrs. Coutts,” she said.

“She would be delighted,” said Frances. “Mrs. Coutts has a knack for festivities.”

“I’d be delighted, Your Grace,” added Cressica. The request was unexpected, but she found the idea of assisting the Duchess of St. Albans thrilling.

“Well, it’s settled then,” said the Duchess in utter delight.

“Lunch is served,” announced the butler. The Duchess stood up and the invitees followed her into the next room.

Frances’s wrapped her arm around Cressica’s and spoke softly for their ears alone, “My dear Mrs. Coutts you impress me. Not only have you impressed the Ton, but you had the Duchess herself sealed your place among them.”

“So it seems,” said Cressica.

The luncheon table was set near the open windows with view of three-acres of gardens – even in a sunless day the house gardens were an impressive delightful sight. The woman sat after the Duchess took her seat. It was a round table and dressed with fine white double damask with matching large square white napkins, and in the center was placed a floral centerpiece of blooms from the house gardens, such as purple ornamental cabbage, lime green spider mums, orange and lime roses and velvety celosia. The china was white and pink porcelain with colorful butterfly prints and gold finishing. First was served cold tomato-basil bisque and cheese biscuits, followed by tarragon chicken salad with crunch pecans and apples, red onions and celery, and cranberry-strawberry salad. There were tea sandwiches of curried shrimp – her grace’s favorite – cucumber and strawberry, and orange and cranberry for the picking, and a caramelized onion quiche topped with flat-leaf parsley, chives and mint. Their merry conversation was carried through, polite conversation on topics such as the weather and delicious gossip.

“Of that we can be assured,” said the Duchess. She remained mild, checking her cup for a last drop of tea, pretending to be half listening to Lady Stanford’s tiresome voice. She set the cup down and to change the conversation pointed to the desert cart being wheeled in. “What is it about this rolling relic that delights us so much?”

“Maybe it’s the sound of the squeaky wheels that signifies sweets are coming,” answered the Countess.

“It’s the colorful assortment of confections that makes us feel like a kid in a candy shop,” added Lady Beauchamp.

“Or the irresistible invitation to linger just a little longer over a shared slice of something sinful,” said Cressica. The ladies joyful laughter filled the room.

“Whatever it is, I’ll have the cheesecake,” said the Duchess.

The Duchess was served a slice of banana pudding cheesecake, top with creamy cheesecake and crunchy vanilla wafers. Cressica skipped desert, and Frances picked a vanilla-buttermilk tart garnished with fresh fruits and basil springs.

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry St. Alban
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#, as written by Tempest
“The theatre? You are joking with me aren’t you Henry?” Sir Thomas Blackthorne looked glum as he spoke, his head sinking into his hands. “Do you know how hard I have to try and avoid that in Spain, and they actually do some decent theatre down there.”

“Oh come on, don’t be a wanker.” Laughed the Duke. “Pretty girls, tight dresses, some are even loosing the extra petticoats, daring little creatures. Or delicious, take your pick.”

“I’m married.” Blackthrone responded. “And happily so, to a Spanish beauty that the heifers of London cannot compare too.”

“I had heard, maybe you’d be willing to take me to Spain with you and show me around after these ridiculous galas are over?” Said the Duke with a hint of excitement. “I would love to meet Catalinas sister….”

“Who is also married.” Thomas said shortly. “Don’t you let your cock get in the way of an angry Spanish father.”

The Duke threw up his hands. “Alright, I’ll find some other senorita to suit my fancy then. Now, the theatre, you’re coming and I won’t have you saying no. Full military dress as well I should think, can’t have two heroes dressing like the common nobility!”

The two men laughed and the Duke called for a servant to have both their uniforms brought out as he poured them a drink from the brandy decanter on the sideboard. He passed one to Thomas before taking a sip of his own and glancing out his sitting room window at the grounds below.

“Will his majesty the Prince be there?” Asked Thomas with a sinking heart. The Prince was forever ordering the captured eagle out on display and retelling the capture to the very men who had taken it as if it had been he who had plucked it from the blood and screams on that horrid battlefield.

“I suspect he might be, but we shall avoid him easily enough. I suspect that Catherine will be there and since my bloody mother insists on their sodding circus I must make small talk.”

“Yes, small talk…” Thomas’s voice trailed away slightly and he winked at his friend. “I’ve had that conversation with women before.”

The Duke was saved from replying by the arrival of four servants bearing between them two trunks. One was the Dukes and revealed his red uniform with all the gold lace and finery of a Colonel of the Heavy Dragoons.

The second trunk belong to Thomas and he drew from it the black uniform of a Major of Hussars, it’s collar and wrists trimmed with white fur, silver piping making it starkly different to that of the Dukes.

“Always preferred your style sword.” Said Thomas as he took a light cavalry blade from the servant, drawing it fully to inspect its care before sliding it home and nodding his thanks.

“Not the sort of thing one wears out though.” Returned the Duke as he admired his dress sword, a gold handled blade fitted with several gems. “This is what I shall wear.”

“Show off.” Said Blackthorne with a grin.

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cressica Coutts
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Intro: Mrs. Goldpins’s Shop - Cressica & Frances

“Countess!” said the store clerk, which sounded more like an announcement than an exclamation. Other store staff quickly circled the two ladies showcasing the latest fabrics; Frances made some quick selections and continued along behind the store clerk as she lead them into a private room. Inside they were met by the head seamstress, Mrs. Goldpins, a tall elegant Irish woman, of lazy eyes, and with a gayish feminine voice. Several assistants – women of various ages – also enter the room, some carrying several gowns made out of the fabric picked by the Countess.

“Mrs. Goldpins, allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Cressica Coutts,” said Frances, “We would like to see your latest fashion plates, and have some dresses made. Perhaps something low on the neck with the gothic style that seems to be fashionable these days,” she looked at Cressica as if to assure her that what she said was true. Returning her eyes to Mrs. Goldpins, she continued, “Nothing French. I’m sure you are swamp with work and with do right for your workmanship’s supreme in London. But spare no expense for your valuable time, Mrs. Goldpins.”

With the simple gesture of her hand and sturdy stare Mrs. Goldpins had ordered her assistants; one assistant quickly took Cressica’s measurements, another exit the room and quickly returned with a thick book, which she opened to show Cressica the collection of hand drawn gowns within. The others helped the Countess undress and redress with the gown she’d picked. And Mrs. Goldpins wasted no time in sharing the latest gossip:

“It seems we have new money desperately seeking an opportunity to join the Ton this summer. I heard by Lady Beauchamp who heard by Lady Stanford that Sir Edward Mesons is bringing his young daughter to London,” said Mrs. Goldpins, as she added the last pin from her mouth into France’s gown.

“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Sir Mesons and his lovely daughter,” said Frances, her eyes fixed on the wall mirror before her. “I consider them good friends. You will do right to treat them with the same respect as you do me, Mrs Goldpins.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” said and embarrassed Mrs. Goldpins.

“What do you think, Cressica?” asked Frances, she twirled on the spot making her evening gown come to life – it was extravagantly trimmed and decorated with lace, cut low and sported short sleeves, baring her bosoms.

“Looks lovely on you,” said Cressica.

“I’ll take it, Mrs. Goldpins,” ordered Frances, “and have another made in black and add some ribbons with a pair of matching gloves. I’ll be staying with Mrs. Coutts in Highgate…”

“No!” interrupted Cressica “We’ll be staying at 78 Piccadilly.” Cressica looked at Frances, “If I’m to help the Duchess I think best to stay at my townhouse.”

Frances nodded, “At first I was delighted she asked you, but in the end I was completely surprised. You know what this means?”

“Indeed, but don’t you worry I have every intention of surpassing any expectations of me,” said Cressica.

“Oh I don’t doubt that my dear. I only worry that she will take advantage of your goodwill. It’s no secret her Son has lessen their fortune, I really don’t see how she plans to pay for any of it,” said Frances, forgetting where she was. She paused and said, “Mrs. Goldpins would you be so kind to give us a moment of privacy.” But it was not a question so much an order, and Mrs. Goldpins and her assistants bowed and left the room. “Cressica you must be very careful because should this gala be nothing but successful you will be blamed for it entirely. The Duchess will see to that. She is not a woman you want to cross. I’m afraid you’ve no choice but to play her game at whatever expense.”

“Then I was right to presumed she expects me to finance the gala?” asked Cressica.

“I’m afraid you understood correctly. She was very subtle in her approach but quite clear, and each time you reassured her that all would be well. Why she even made it sound like it was your idea in the first place,” said Frances, adjusting her gown around the sleeves. “You must be very careful how you handle the issue because you don’t want to offend.”

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Regency Era 1816

Regency Era 1816 by Xistinna

London, England: Summer Season of 1816

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Character Portrait: Catherine Mesons
Character Portrait: Cressica Coutts


Character Portrait: Cressica Coutts
Cressica Coutts

"I give my all - I can't give more, though poor the offering be."

Character Portrait: Catherine Mesons
Catherine Mesons

Life is for living and I refuse to be cosseted!


Character Portrait: Catherine Mesons
Catherine Mesons

Life is for living and I refuse to be cosseted!

Character Portrait: Cressica Coutts
Cressica Coutts

"I give my all - I can't give more, though poor the offering be."

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Character Portrait: Cressica Coutts
Cressica Coutts

"I give my all - I can't give more, though poor the offering be."

Character Portrait: Catherine Mesons
Catherine Mesons

Life is for living and I refuse to be cosseted!

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Regency Era 1816

Regency Era 1816 by Xistinna

London, England: Summer Season of 1816

Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Duty & Honor Before Love: Out of Character


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