for astoundingly

[venturesomecourse]

[It has been only two days since Violet and Ruth had worked out the plan to save both of their families, pulling the two of them along like a whirlwind, and now that a special license has been obtained for a hasty wedding, it's time for the betrothed to play their part. As it turns out, Daphne had already been making plans for the Hastings ball, and invitations have already been sent. Most of the ton will be in attendance, which is the perfect time for the betrothal to be announced (followed by a mention in Lady Whistledown, for anyone who happens not to be at the ball). The Duchess of Hastings making it known that her brother is to marry, and introducing his soon-to-be wife to the guests, is a surefire way for the news to spread, and hopefully put rest to the inconvenient rumors. They can sell the hasty betrothal any way they like; they just need to sell it.

They had danced together again, this time with everyone watching, and based on the looks passing between the debutantes and their mothers, they had sold the story. Everyone believes that he is truly off the market, which is what their main goal had been. He has even given her a ring, to make it official.

After they finish their dance, he whisks her off the dance floor to the refreshment table for some lemonade. Whispers follow them around the room as he hands her a glass.]

I would say that's not too bad for people who barely knew each other three days ago.

Comments

[astoundingly]

[Rose accepts the glass with effortless composure, her smile never wavering despite the unmistakable awareness of dozens of curious eyes following their every movement. The whispers scarcely trouble her. London society is no different from New York in that respect; fortunes, fashions, and futures are all discussed with equal enthusiasm the moment one turns away. She has been raised to withstand scrutiny, to move through it without ever allowing it to dictate her posture or expression. If the ton expects an uncertain American girl overwhelmed by their approval or disdain, they will be sorely disappointed. This evening, no one seems interested in the rumors that brought about the engagement. Their attention rests squarely upon her, and Rose carries it with such quiet elegance that there is little left to criticize.]

I believe we've done rather well. [Her eyes meet his over the rim of her glass, touched with the faintest hint of amusement.]

If they mean to speak of us tomorrow, I should much rather they remember the dance than invent reasons for it. Besides... I find I have no objection to being the subject of their attention, provided I have a suitable partner beside me. They may have crowned another lady their Diamond, but I have never thought one required a title from Her Majesty to shine.

[venturesomecourse]

[Even though they still don't know each other well, they have spent enough time in only each other's company for him to realize that some of her demeanor is a part that she is playing. Not pretense, necessarily; he believes she really is that unbothered by the attention from the ton, just as he is. He also knows that he has seen hints of her when she's more relaxed, which is not something she is likely to show in this room.]

I am certain they will be speaking of us tomorrow. [And not just because Lady Whistledown will have a new publication out.] One of the most eligible bachelors of the season engaging in a hasty betrothal to an unknown foreigner? There will be much speculation, and it will all be wrong.

No matter who else makes a match this season, I believe ours will be the wedding of the season.

[astoundingly]

[The moment they step beyond the reach of the crowd, Rose feels herself exhale without realizing she had been holding her breath. She has been trained for evenings like this since childhood, taught to move through drawing rooms with effortless grace, to answer every question without revealing more than she intends, and to withstand the scrutiny of society without ever allowing it to leave so much as a crease in her composure. New York had prepared her well for London. Yet there is a difference between performing well and feeling at ease. As they continue down the quieter corridor, her hand finds his almost instinctively, resting lightly against his for a fleeting moment before she lets it remain there.]

I believe you are right.

[A small smile curves her lips, touched with quiet amusement rather than apprehension.]

They shall speculate endlessly, and I imagine every theory will be more elaborate than the last. If that is the price of our success this evening, I think I can bear it. We seem to have convinced them rather thoroughly... and I confess, it is infinitely easier to face them all knowing that, when the performance is over, I have someone with whom I need not perform at all.

[venturesomecourse]

Indeed. I would in fact prefer that you not. [Like so many debutantes do, because they have been raised to believe that the only way to get a husband is to say and do whatever they think their suitor wants to hear. To take on whatever personality gets them a husband. They're auditioning to be hostesses and mothers, not companions. He wants a companion; he has no need of an heir, and he does not expect to be hosting large country parties at My Cottage. He does not need a wife who will be the perfect hostess and mother.]

I think we shall have a better chance at a happy marriage if we both are true to ourselves.

[astoundingly]

[Rose is quiet for a moment, turning his words over with the same care she seems to afford everything he says. She wants to believe him. More than that, she suspects he means every word. It is simply that believing someone and knowing how to respond are not always the same thing. A lifetime of moving through drawing rooms has taught her that survival often depends upon presenting precisely the version of oneself everyone wishes to see.]

I think... that may be more difficult for me than it is for you. [Her voice remains gentle, absent of self-pity, merely honest.]

I have spent so many years learning how to navigate places like this that I scarcely notice when I have begun performing. Society has a curious way of taking little pieces of a person and teaching them to tuck each one neatly out of sight until only the acceptable parts remain. It is why I manage it so well.

[She meets his gaze, something softer settling in her expression.]

So if you find me lowering my guard only a little at a time... I hope you will be patient with me. It is not because I do not trust you. Quite the opposite, I think. It is because I am only just beginning to believe that I may not have to wear the mask when I am with you.

[venturesomecourse]

If you need any help removing it, all you need to do is ask.

[He can remind her that she doesn't need it, or find a way to draw out the person behind the mask. Whatever works the best.]

I never much cared for the mask I was expected to wear. I may have given my mother some grief over the years because of it.

I can give you some advice. If you know your desires, and you do what you can to follow them, then you can be true to yourself.

[He knows there are some desires that cannot be followed, but it's important to know which ones can.]

[astoundingly]

[Rose's gaze remained on their joined hands for a moment before lifting to meet his once more. She found herself believing him with surprising ease. Perhaps it was because he had never attempted to present himself as perfect, only honest. Or perhaps it was because every expectation she had carried across the Atlantic had been quietly undone since the moment she met him. The scandal that had nearly engulfed his family had changed the course of both their lives, and though she regretted the pain it must have caused him, she could not bring herself to regret where it had led. Somehow, through circumstances neither of them would have chosen, she had found a man who was kind.]

I think... I have been searching for something for rather a long time.

[A thoughtful smile touched her lips.]

Not a husband, necessarily. Nor even love, though I should never object to finding it. Only... something that belonged to me. A life that felt chosen rather than arranged. I am not yet certain what shape that life takes, but I believe you are right. I shall only discover it if I allow myself to stop performing long enough to listen for it.

[Her fingers gave his a gentle squeeze, a pause remaining while the words felt like they flowed from her soul.]

Perhaps that is another unexpected gift you have given me. I feel... safe enough to begin looking. And if I find those pieces of myself while we are learning one another, I think I should count myself extraordinarily fortunate.

[venturesomecourse]

I expect that being away from people who are telling you what mask to wear will help with that.

[Her mother, perhaps, but others too. The whole of society, for one. Even his own family. Although he doesn't blame either his mother or hers for doing as they do. They simply want what is best for their children, even if their children disagree about what that is.]

I have a home in the country. We can spend as much time there as we like, away from London and its constraints. The household will be yours to manage as you like. Which I know isn't exactly what you meant, but at least there, the eyes of London will not be upon you.

[astoundingly]

[Rose considers the possibility, and something inside her eases at the thought. For all that she has learned to perform beneath the scrutiny of queens and mothers and an entire society trained to notice every misplaced glance, performance is still precisely what it is. Somewhere quieter, she might wake without first considering what version of herself the day requires. Better still, she might discover who Benedict is beyond London as well, without the ton peering over their shoulders and deciding what every conversation or glance between them ought to mean.]

I think I would like that very much. [She smiles as she shifts a little closer, the prospect suddenly less intimidating than marriage has any right to feel. A household of her own has its appeal, certainly, but it is the privacy that draws her most—the chance for whatever grows between them to belong first to them.]

Perhaps we might actually get to know one another when no one else is watching. I should like to know who you are when you aren't being a Bridgerton for everyone else.

[venturesomecourse]

[He hadn't bought My Cottage for privacy -- though that's certainly a bonus -- but to have something that was his and his alone. Which was also the reason he had named it as he had, despite all the teasing he gets for it. He certainly understands why having a household of her own would have appeal. As much as he loves his family, he likes having a space that belongs to him.]

We need not wait until we are outside of London for that. There is no one watching us now, nor is anyone likely to notice if we don't return to the party. If there is something you wish to know of me, there is no reason you cannot begin to discover it now.

[astoundingly]

[Rose considers him for a moment, and the prospect feels strangely more intimate than all the carefully arranged conversations they have shared thus far. There is nothing she needs to demand from him tonight, no interrogation that might reveal everything worth knowing in the space of an hour. She would rather learn him gradually—the things he volunteers when no one else is listening, what makes him laugh when there is no audience to charm, all those unguarded pieces of Benedict that society never thinks to ask after. A soft smile touches her lips as she rises, offering her hand to him.]

Then perhaps we should retire for the evening. [There is a little warmth in her cheeks, but she does not retreat behind the composure that comes so naturally to her.]

I do not think I have any particular question prepared. I would rather simply spend the time with you and see what I am fortunate enough to discover. You are to be my husband, after all. I should like the opportunity to know that man.

[venturesomecourse]

Retire...for the evening?

[He knows what that usually means, and noticed the hint of color in her cheeks, but he doesn't want to assume any one thing. Especially considering what gently bred women tend to know about marriage. There are plenty of spaces in Hastings House more private than this one, where they could discuss any number of things without being watched. But "retiring for the evening" has a definite implication that no one will see either of them for the rest of the evening.]

To where?

[astoundingly]

[Rose's color deepens at the question, though she cannot precisely blame him for asking. *He* had been the one to suggest they needn't return to the party, after all. She had simply taken the suggestion perhaps a little further than he intended.]

You did say we did not have to go back. [She reminds him of it softly, her gaze lingering upon his before flickering toward the ball room. There are any number of perfectly respectable rooms she might name, and she finds herself naming none of them.]

Somewhere more private.

[Her fingers smooth unnecessarily over her skirts, betraying a nervousness that the small curve of her mouth does not quite manage to conceal.]

Unless, of course, you meant we ought to spend the remainder of the evening discussing art in the drawing room. [Rose looks back at him, something tentative but unmistakably teasing entering her expression.] I suppose I may have misunderstood.

[venturesomecourse]

I did say that, and I meant it.

[He hadn't had any particular location in mind. There are a lot of rooms in Hastings House that are not the ballroom, or any other room being used for the ball. They could have gone to one of them, of course, but he won't turn down her request.]

We could spend the rest of the evening discussing art in the drawing room, if that is what you desire. Or we could go somewhere more private. Wherever you wish to go.

[astoundingly]

[It has been an exhausting day, and Rose can feel the weight of it now that the noise of the ballroom is beginning to fall away behind them. The sensible choice might be the drawing room, somewhere quiet where they could sit and talk until she felt more like herself again. Yet the thought of returning to another room where someone might wander in leaves her strangely reluctant. What she wants, she realizes, is simply to be away from all of it for a while—- with him.]

Somewhere more private, I think. [She glances toward him, a little color warming her cheeks despite the tired smile that follows.] I am not quite ready for the evening to end. Perhaps we might still spend some time together without everyone else around.