Ari/Charity | mid-evening | complete
"I have every confidence in you,” Ari told her. “As for the guest of honor, I think the Countess will not let her drown,” she mused. If anyone could navigate this situation, she had no doubt it would be Genevieve Albrecht; really, Audrey could not have chosen a better co-conspirator. Most noblemen with any sense would think twice before crossing someone so powerful, and those without sense…
Ari had a notion Vivi might eat them for breakfast. With jam, even.
“Considering men twice her age were apparently sniffing around the younger Coulombe girl before she was old enough to drink, I’d say the chances are good competition will be quite unpleasant. Though,” this with a small smile, “I do not think Alys will be taking the first -- or second -- suit to come her way. I daresay she will be considerably more difficult to impress than her sister.” How many times had Audrey ranted intermittently about wanting love (agree to disagree, Ari had always said) and her desire to have someone to come home to? Perhaps the playing field had changed -- drastically, even -- but Ari doubted her friend’s intentions had.
"Let's hope so, for her sake. Many men would not give her much of a choice, if they had their way." Charity plucked a cocktail sausage off the tray of a passing waiter, lifting it to her mouth between gloved fingertips and chewing contemplatively. "Of course, that's why it's good to know… bards." A little waggle of the eyebrows, at that. Charity glanced around the room, spotting their various Thieves Guild contemporaries. "Such problems are readily enough handled if you have the right friends. Or even just the right money. And she's plenty of that, now."
“Or daggers unter your ballgown, I suppose.” The money was a bit more complicated than having it or not -- at least, not until the newly minted Lady Coulombe found a husband (or a wife, Ari supposed, though in Aud’s case, a husband seemed much more likely). Still, she wouldn’t be destitute, with the guardian she’d chosen. And she hoped, for Audrey’s sake, that Juliette would come to join her -- after everything that had been done for her sake (not that she knew), it would be a poor ending to the tale if the girl remained with the Demiels.
Well, that would be Audrey’s next problem to tackle. She would assist if she was asked, but until then…
“I believe I see your paramour returning,” she told Charity, leaning in to speak even more softly as the young lord approached with two (not three, and this was not unexpected) glasses of champagne. “Let’s see, what shall we argue about?”
"Indeed you are correct," Charity said, eyeing Abergarde Dawlish's hasty stomping gait as he made his way back to where the ladies were standing. "We'll have to find a time to confab on the latest gossip without all these inquiring eyes, dear."
A little wave of her hand, and the mask slipped back into place; her expression became vacant, dizzy, her voice airy and high like a set of wind-chimes. "ABERgarde, thank goodness you're back!!" She scowled at Ari like she'd just swallowed a lemon. "Miss Chiaro was just leaving."
Abergarde watched, slack-jawed, as Charity wagged the finger of her free hand at Arielle. "And don't you ever ask me for a favor again, you ingrate! After you wore a gown by my tailor to this ball. The nerve!" She glared over at Abergarde for support. Commoners! was the unspoken huff.
Ari, in turn, once again adopted the saccharine tone she had utilized earlier, replying, “Oh, don’t worry, darling -- I do believe he might have made my entire gown from the fabric missing from the front of yours. It would have gone to waste otherwise, such a shame, really.” An arch look at the gentleman and an airy, “Do enjoy your evening, Lord Dawlish, and the riveting conversation,” before she swept away just as promised.