The Lure {Victorian ManxMan}

2012 © EverlastingPride

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Leap Year LGBT Challenge Entry - Prompts: February 29; a Mirror; the line, "I am going to get you for this."; someone Dancing; a surprise of some sort.

   The year was 1884 and I had just turned twenty-four. My family was holding the largest ball in all of Derbyshire that night to celebrate it. Naturally, my birth had not been on February 29, but I had insisted on waiting another week. It was to be the night of the year and everyone influential or important was to attend.

      I brought the glass of wine to my mouth, idly watching the dark red liquid swirl around the glass. Usually I avoided red wine like the plague. Tonight, though, it was unavoidable and so I forced from my mind visions of blood, echoes of terror.

     Tonight was to be a very important night. I looked over the enormous crowd searching for not someone, but something. I watched not faces, but stances…paces. The only way to tell them apart from us was the way they held themselves. Everyone in the room was powdered to the hilt – their stone cold, white skin would blend in completely.

     Unless they smiled.

     “Darling!” a sickeningly sweet voice cooed in my ear. I nearly jumped in surprise but cooled, turning to face the over-painted countess who had her sights set on becoming the next Duchess of Fairlane.

     “Ah, Countess Greenwald,” I bowed slightly mockingly, my face impassive. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

     She giggled in a way unbecoming for someone of some twenty and three years. “Please, Your Grace, my Duke, call me Agatha.” My smile was strained. How unbecoming a name…

     After a moment of silence she became uncomfortable. “Shall we dance?” A reel had just begun a complicated dance of switching partners again and again that had just lately come in style. I sighed in resignation. The countess was not leaving until she got her dance.

     I threaded her arm through mine and began walking toward the floor. “Why not?” As we got closer to the floor, my step faltered. There!  

     In the black coat and trousers with the gold cravat, dressed much the same as I. I had found one. They were only apparent one day every four years – February 29th.  And I had finally found one.

     All but pulling the unsteady countess after me, I positioned us close to the man so I could watch him. His hair was dark, black even. His body was tall, firm, but I had come to expect that from them.

     I reluctantly dragged my eyes back to my partner and the dance begun. With a complicated twirl we spun left and right, moving over and under other bodies in a seemingly random movement. We switched partners once, twice, thrice. Some were female, others male.

     And then, there was him. Cursing silently under my breath, I linked my arm with him stiffly; the thick, expensive fabric sheltering me from what I knew would be a freezing touch. Leave it to poor planning that I should position us so that I would be partnered with this filth for the rest of the dance.