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Tweak says, "goo goo ga joob"

Lord Tobias Hurst, Duke of Devon (lord_hurst) wrote in toujoursliberer,
@ 2008-08-08 21:41:00

Entry tags:

aime_laurent, antoine_laurent, beatrice_stanley, beth_downing, constance_mosley, demetri_blake, georgina_rochester, gwendolyn_linley, harry_fisher, jacques_belmont, katerina_ashcroft, marie_hardwick, melisande_auclair, nell_abbot, patience_hurst, piper, plot, rupert_aveline, sergius_petrov, slater, thaddeus_chadwick, theodore_berteaut, thérèse_du_labarre, tobias_hurst, vivian_thorpe

Lord Hurst: A Ball In His Honour
Item: An invitation sent out by Lord Hurst to many of those in the upper portion of society
Who: Lord Hurst on behalf of Sergius Petrov
Warnings: TBA
Open to: All of the nobility, friends of the Hurst family, those being blackmailed by Sergius, plus Constance, Slater, and Harry.

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beatricestanley
2008-08-11 03:11 am UTC (link)

Ooh, a party. Never let it be said Beatrice was one to pass up a party. Never was there a better opportunity to weigh up the fresh meat and to assess the old. Who had let themselves go? Who had married who? Who was stuck in the '80s?

Quite a few people, by the looks of it. Beatrice sighed as she sipped her champagne, finishing her second lap of the room; never one to stand still and look desperate for company, she tended to mingle, going in a clockwise formation around the various groups. Her reputation was clear, as was the displeasure on the faces of many as she approached, but she was so high up in the social ranks that no one could afford to ignore her. She was a duchess, for god's sake. She was the cream of the crop.

It somewhat amused her, actually, the looks she saw quickly hidden. Displeasure was the most common, but many others, from amusement to resentment, reigned supreme in the hearts of her peers, and she would've giggled into her champagne if it wasn't so unbecoming. But tonight was meant for bigger things. She could feel it. Tonight, she was going to make a coup. She just didn't know what it was yet.

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social_climber
2008-08-11 05:55 pm UTC (link)

Harry had not noticed the arrival of the unfamiliar young woman, had she arrived before him. It was possible she had been one of the less tardy guests, as he himself had arrived more than an hour into the evening's celebrations, Nell in tow, having come from giving strict orders for the Theatre's security with Will.

And now Nell had disappeared, probably having stolen a bottle of some sort and was supping it quietly under a table somewhere. Harry had half a mind to start looking under the long cloths, but the other half of his mind was far more sensible and merely guided him back to top-up his own glass. A few more and he would no doubt be searching under the tables to drag Nell out, but one more glass would mean he no longer cared, and could enjoy avoiding those he wished not to speak to, including the Russian.

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beatricestanley
2008-08-11 06:12 pm UTC (link)

When she spotted the man, Beatrice knew instantly who he was. She'd heard talk of him, seen him once or twice; Harry Fisher. By all accounts, a very eligible bachelor, a charming fellow, and a complete fraud. She'd already done a little digging, should she ever need the information. He was completely mired in bad business. And that was glorious.

She needed to meet him. Adopting her best air of charm and warmth, she took another sip of her drink and stepped closer, reaching a hand out to brush lightly at his arm in order to gain his attention. "Excuse me for my insolence, sir, at addressing you without introduction, but I couldn't help notice you stood here all by your lonesome. Surely you are in need of some company."

She paused, before clearing her throat and extending her hand. "And forgive my lack of manners. Beatrice Stanley, Duchess of Marlborough. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

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social_climber
2008-08-12 03:01 pm UTC (link)

Harry Fisher was not used to being approached by young women at parties- or rather, young ladies at Balls which were an entirely different matter. He was approached by women all the time, normally wanting a pay rise or to find out what ditch their old man had collapsed into. But to be approached by such a lady (pretty enough, he noticed, with a fashionably expensive dress and a title to go with it, his sharp ears pointed out) was certainly a turn up for the books. She must have been very bored to approach him rather than anyone else here.

"Lady Stanley." He said rather formally, bowing low and taking her hand to kiss, as was expected of him at times such as this and it was hardly a burden. "Harry Fisher, my Lady, and the pleasure is, I assure you, all mine. I must thank you for your kind concern but I hardly want to keep you from your friends."

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beatricestanley
2008-08-16 06:05 am UTC (link)

Ooh, very posh. Very inkeeping with how a gentleman should act. That worked very well; anything else and it'd hurt her own reputation to be seen with him, and if there was one thing Beatrice wouldn't do, it was sacrifice herself for someone else's downfall. Destruction was fun, but not when it was her own. But as it was, Mr Fisher appeared to be well-mannered enough to risk being seen with.

"Oh, Mr Fisher, my friends are all quite tipsy and have found themselves nice men to dance with. I've found myself quite alone, so it is no chore to be conversing with a gentleman such as yourself. Tell me, how do you like the dancing?" She smiled somewhat amusedly, turning and pointing out a woman amongst the crowd. "As I'm sure you're aware, that gentlewoman is Lady Emma Worthington of the Staffordshire Worthingtons. Quite the dancer, isn't she?" In fact, poor Lady Emma was rather terrible. Mr Fisher seemed like the kind of man to appreciate a joke, and Beatrice thought she should make her own humour clear before this went any further. She couldn't stand a man who couldn't laugh.

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