Dance #2 (4) with Margaret Hastingston ~ongoing~
Corin’s mind spun from the confusing mix of intrigue and guilt. There had been no woman since his departed that held his gaze in such a way. The mere thought of attraction repulsed him, and yet here he stood, his eyes glued to the woman in front of him.
The way her own eyes held secrets that begged to be unraveled and her smile hinted at stories yet untold stirred a sense of curiosity within him. Yet, like a traveler stepping into uncharted territory, he also treaded carefully, fully aware of their current position in society.
[color= #e9a189] “But I can’t help but wonder what might have shifted your perspective… Lor- I apologise, Mr. Blackwood?” [/color] Margaret’s voice hinted at a soft flirtation, one Corin could barely stomach. Yet, he needed to win a woman of such import, and perhaps Margaret would be a suitable partner in the future.
Corin contemplated his response, not expecting to be asked on his newfound interest in the country. The question of whether he should share his true thoughts on her beauty, on how captivating she was, or how her radiance had ignited a fire he had long since put out lingered in his mind.
He thought against it.
With a cool smirk and a composed tone, Corin replied as diplomatically as he always had.
[color= #0E6251] “I simply mean the intrigue of the night has certainly opened my mind to future prospects in England, my lady.” [/color] Corin’s face was nearly unreadable, a dignified expression marked by years of practice and rehearsed lines with his father. Never a hair out of place. Never a word not premeditated. There was little room for error in the Blackwood family. At least, there used to be.
[color= #0E6251] “Tell me, Lady Margaret, you inquire about my own interests and travels, yet have told me little of yourself. Including your family name…” [/color] Corin glanced her up and down, very aware of her approach and word choice. She was speaking for an end goal, and she knew his name and visage before he had noticed her own, therefore, she had reason for this encounter. Corin was observant in many ways, as he had to be in foreign countries. Many men and women attempted feigned approaches and woeful fables to con him out of his fortune. A woman approaching him with knowledge of his name, and no mention of a family relation, at a ball for the season of matches was not only strange, but skillfully withheld.
Yet, she moved with a grace that caught the eye and sparked intrigue, her eyes revealing depths uncharted. The allure of her charm was undeniable, and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the confidence she embodied. However, caution tempered his fascination, for he knew that behind the elegance and smiles of such gatherings often lay concealed complexities. It was the balance between curiosity and the wariness of the unknown that defined his response.
[color= #0E6251] “Perhaps, I shall coax out answers of my own…over a dance?” [/color] Corin extended his right hand, willing it to still against the anxiety ridden shakes it normally held. His left hand moved to his pocket, gripping the matchbox that laid within it, attempting to calm himself.
Suddenly a swirl of hair caught his eyes. A soft flash of features that sent his heart tumbling to his stomach. It couldn’t be…had she grown that much…he felt his eyes linger a moment too long, his lips nearly parting to call out to the figure that flickered by. In the very same instant, however, she was gone, blurred back into the swarm of the laughing and dancing crowd around them.
Corin quickly turned his attention back to Margo, mentally chastising himself for continually forgetting his father’s teachings.
He had not danced since Arista.
He had thought he never would again.
And yet here he was, with a woman whose beauty he resented for pulling his mind from his past love, offering a hand for a dance he swore he’d never step, in a country filled with nobles of whom he despised most of all.