Re: Ball: Clementine, Irene & Declan
Clementine, she'd always been real fond of pink. Not the sweet kind that springtime girls wore. Clementine, she liked pink that was bright and defied being soft any. She always had been fond of those colors, pastels turned on their end and made into something real different. But the sage suited, that was true enough, with all that blonde and pale skin, and there was a whole lot of shoulder showing bare. Maybe she should worry 'bout being scandalous some, but Clementine never did worry 'bout that. She'd either be ruined or adored here, and neither had a whole lot of bearing beyond the evening, so Clementine didn't really mind either.
This was just escaping some, and she breathed in those lilies and lavender, and then she went on back to the bed in that opulent room, and she tossed herself back and wished she'd had that corset strung looser. It made her breasts look better than they ever had, and it did some real nice things to her waist, but Clementine hadn't worn one of these damn things since her last cotillion ball, and even then it hadn't gone real long before something pretty undid the stays.
Here, she reckoned she best at least keep it on until Declan walked himself on through that door, looking handsome and broad in the shoulders, and that boy had always been too damn good looking. Now, all the Murphy boys were fine, and Clementine could admit easy the men in the family got the looks to kill for, every damn one of them good to look on. But Declan, Declan looked better than most, and she could appreciate that without it being a bit of wrong.
So, inappropriate as could be, she grinned at Irene and her chiding 'bout propriety. Elbows back on garish blankets, and seafoam all around her, Clementine looked 'round the room lazy and curious. "This something someone set up for you? I reckon I expected something more masculine." That grin she leveled at Irene then, it was intimate as could be.