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Dearest Reader,
With the start of a new season comes new gossip, fresh from the vines of giggling debutantes and gossiping mamas that I lovingly pluck for your enjoyment.
Our newest diamond, the esteemed Lady Scott Major, a rather odd choice by our Queen. But then again, perhaps our Queen was simply too occupied with her latest flight of fancy to focus on picking a proper diamond. Sir Scar Hawkeye, disgraced and banished only to return at the arm of Queen Griande, not even washing the dirt off his gloves!
The diamond has taken full advantage of his newest status, seen with a different poor boy every ball and fête, uncaring of the hearts he breaks and reputations he ruins– not that his own could take any more battering…
Cleo throws down their copy with a huff, glaring at the paper. “Would that I knew the identity of Lady Whistledown! She needs several accidents to befall her. Very accidental accidents.”
That provoked a giggle from Pearl, shaking her head as she also placed down her edition of Lady Whistledown. “You can’t kill Lady Whistledown, Cleo, every noble in the city will riot!”
She sniffed. “Let them riot. She’s ruining Scott’s reputation!”
“Not any more than I’ve already ruined it, according to her,” Scott said languidly, still skimming over his gossip sheet. “I want to know more about the Queen’s latest boytoy– Lady Whistledown says he was disgraced from his house, but what did he do ?”
Cleo rolled their eyes. “You’re never going to get married if you keep dallying about without courting anyone, Scott.”
“Maybe I don’t want to get married, Cleo,” Scott replied. “Maybe I want to stay single and wanted forever.”
Pearl waved the Lady Whistledown at Scott. “You’re not going to be wanted much longer if you keep this up!”
Scott ignored his two friends, drawing aside the curtain of the carriage to check their progress. Still another few minutes away. Cleo smacked his shoulder with their fan, glaring. “Don’t ignore us, Scott. This is for your own good; if you don’t get married this season, you’ll be a spinster forever, and your dowry won’t last you forever. You need support.”
He sighed. “Will you be happy if I tell you I’ve been considering someone?”
That immediately got both their attention', all thoughts of scolding him dropped. “Who?”
“I swear if you’ve picked a commoner or some title-less sir, Scott,” Cleo threatened.
Scott inspected his nails, a cyan to match his freshly dyed hair, done with a few braids into the curls, dark sapphires weighing them down. “He’s well-off. A widower, but he’s on the marriage mart this season. He’s at this ball tonight.”
Pearl bounced in her seat, slightly manic grin ghosting over her face. After the catastrophic scandal she had the previous season with Lady Gemini of Tay, she had chosen not to put herself out this year, at least until a new scandal arrived and everyone forgot the horrific events of the year past. She had never really been the same since, but sometimes you could see her past energy brighten the room, such as now. “Who is it, Scottie? Tell, tell, tell–”
Scott let his fan drape over his face, hiding the smirk on his face. “You’ll find out!”
Cleo and Pearl’s protests faded in his ears as he peeked out of the curtain once more, the queen’s royal estates rolling up as the carriage slowed to a stop.
After a flurry of tugging on gloves and checking each other’s lip rogue and feathered blush, they stepped out elegantly, the picture of perfect debutantes.
The herald announced them as they glided in, arm in arm and aloof expressions in place.
“The Lady Scott Major!”
“The Lady Pearl Moon!”
“The Lady Cleo Major!”
Whispers spread, glances both admiring and hateful thrown their way. No one dared to say anything outright, not after Cleo had destroyed that one lord who had made a snide comment of Scott and Cleo’s shared parentage.
Picking up a delicate glass of lemonade, Scott sipped at it, giving doll eyes at anyone who looked his way. More than a fair few blushed at his attention, but an annoying number turned away without even acknowledging him.
A quartet of musicians played in a quiet corner, soft orchestra drifting over the small crowd of dancers at the center of the grand room. How fast would his dance card fill up today, Scott wondered idly.
More than a few admiring glances were thrown his way, courtesy of the newest dress he had gotten tailored but a week before, matching with his half-sister and Pearl in preparation for this very ball.
A sequined and pearl-dotted navy cloth that draped to the floor, train dragging behind him, sparkles added liberally both on the dress itself and the tulle ruffles cascading down his waist and spreading in a light wave that made one think of the night sky, bright with thousands of stars. Delicate sapphires adorned his curly cyan hair and ears, matching the sparkling pastel blues he had used for his eyeshadow and silver diamond necklace bringing attention to the delicately woven corset, heavy with crystal stars.
Pearl had donned a gown of the deepest scarlet, corset darker than night wrapped around her chest and petticoat draped down, flashes of bright red peeking from under the dark fabric, studded with rubies and golden crescents. Her milk chocolate hair had been woven into soft braids and cascading waves, clipped back with a golden brooch decorated with rubies and garnets.
Cleo had perhaps the tamest dress of the three of them, a simple velvet green matching the dark pines that grew in the northern tundras, positively covered in embroidery of crimson roses and dark ravens taking flight across the bodice and swooping down to the train draped behind her. Dark emeralds contested with bright peridots in her half-up, half-down bright orange hair, tight curls bent and twisted into an elaborate style no one present could ever replicate.
Scott had no care for most of the nobles trying to catch his eyes, his gaze roving across the ball in search of the one man who had kept his attention more than a fortnight.
Lord Martyn Littlewood stood by the wall opposite himself, speaking with another man in a dark suit with silver embroidery that stood out at even this distance. His face was masked, eyes the sole feature visible, piercing and observant. Lord Etho Slab, if his memory served.
As he approached, Scott noticed a third man in the group, and forced himself not to flinch, gliding in with a smirk hovering on the edge of his lip, firmly planted there.
Mr. Jimmy Solidarity, the man whose heart he had broken. Scott had prayed he wouldn’t be present at tonight’s ball.
As far as Scott knew, it was mutual.
Jimmy saw him, and he went from calm to what had to be an unhealthy shade of red. “ You. ”
“Sorry, do I know you?” Scott said, adopting an innocently confused look. He was not going to be humiliated here.
“You– you can’t do that, Scott, I know you know me!” Jimmy spluttered. “No, you– No, shut up!”
Scott gasped theatrically, one hand going over his mouth. Martyn shoved at Jimmy, glaring. “Leave him alone, man.”
Jimmy shoved back at Martyn, trying to get closer to Scott, but Etho silently moved in his way, one hand resting lightly on where his sword would normally be, would he not have been at a ball.
The unspoken threat was enough to make Jimmy hesitate, glare bouncing between the three others, before he took an uneasy step back, furious eyes settling on Scott. “Well, you know what? I don’t even miss you! I’ve got Joel now, he treats me better than you ever did, so fuck you!”
And with that, he stormed off, whispers following him as he vanished down a side door into the night air outside.
Cleo caught Scott’s eye across the room, tilting her head in a silent question. He shook his head. Everything was okay. It was fine! He had a much sweeter man, now. Jimmy wasn’t the only one who had found better.
“Anyone wanna bet this Joel goes to another school?” Martyn joked, nudging Etho with a quicksilver grin. “No?”
Scott giggled, covering his face with a soft blue fan and fluttering his lashes at Martyn over it. “How entertaining, my lord! A scandal for the ages, I’m sure.”
“I’ll just go,” Etho muttered, unnoticed by both Scott and Martyn as they giggled and flirted. “Nice to see you guys?”
Scott waved his fingers at Etho, already half in Martyn’s arms. “Enjoy your night, darling!”
Martyn grinned, excitement visible in every inch of his body. “May I have this dance, Lady Scott?”
“Why, you may, Lord Martyn,” Scott replied, mischief dancing in his voice.
They swept off, leaving Etho standing alone.
“Man, I really am washed up,” he said, shaking his head.
Turning around, he immediately trips over something and falls, crashing bodily into a smaller person who screeched like a banshee, flailing about as they got trapped beneath him.
“Get off me, what is wrong with you??” they shrieked, smacking Etho until he fumbled his way up, stammering all the while. He offered them a hand up, only to get smacked away. “I don’t need your help, you giant lamppost!”
Etho blinked down at the much, much shorter man. “Yeah, I bet I am like a lamppost to you, huh?”
“YOU CALLING ME SHORT??”
He barely caught a laugh before it slipped out, shaking his head vigorously. “No, not at all, I would never. Who might you be?”
Their chest puffed up. “You’re talking to none other than the Honorable Lord Bdubs, of course!”
“Of course,” Etho echoed faintly. “How could I possibly make up my blunder to you, my lord?”
Bdubs sniffed. “I guess you could dance with me. Maybe. Whatever. It’s the least you could do!”
Etho was very glad his blush was hidden behind his mask, unlike the rapidly spreading flush on Bdubs’ cheeks.
“Then may I have this dance, Lord Bdubs?”