opportunity |H.S|

• thirty two •

why can't I hold you in the street?
why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that,
why cant it be like that?
______

Dorothea Abram

July 12th

The music plays in the background as I stand beside Mother and Father, the conversation around me fading into the background as I sip on my champagne.

My body still aches from the continuous hours of self defense Harry has me doing during days I'm meant to be going to the modiste – sending Zayn in my place every time – so another night of dancing in heels and socializing with people I could not care less for has never sounded as unappealing as it does now.

Thankfully I haven't needed to use anything he has taught me yet as I've barely seen Mother and Father as of late, perhaps because they have been so busy with this charity event we are hosting right now.

I cant remember what he dedicated this one to, I believe it was for the orphans using his tragic childhood and the events of losing his own father in that accident and soon after his mother to garner sympathy.

But my job tonight is simply to stand here and look pretty.

Laughter breaks out in the group surrounding me so I blindly join in.

Micheal raises his glass after what I can assume was a toast he made, "To William."

Everyone brings there glasses to the middle and I join in as a chorus of 'to William' follows.

I then bring the glass to my lips, downing whats left in it.

Conversation picks up again and I look around the room wondering where Zayn is if his father is here.

I need someone to suffer through this with me.

"Dorothea sweetie." My mothers voice at an obnoxiously high pitch rings in my ears from my left. I turn to face her with a smile of my own. "Lord Reynolds has arrived."

Less than an hour into the charity event and I'm already being set up. Lovely.

Next to Mother I see two new people have joined our little group. An older woman couple close to the age of Father and besides her a young man who seems a few years older than me. He has dark brown hair, longer than most but well kept, hazel eyes and clean shaven. He's taller than me but no more than six foot and lean.

He steps forward, "Dorothea, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine my Lord." I greet him formally.

"Please, call me Anthony." He smiles.

I can feel Mother cringe at his quick dismissal of formalities which makes me smile back.

He has a nice smile, good teeth as well.

His suit is tailored perfectly to fit him, its nothing special, your average black suit. He wears a gold watch on his wrist but no other Jewelry. I can see why Mother and Father chose him based on superficial reasons.

He's a Lord and although it may not be the highest of ranks, it still comes with money and a good name. I can only hope he turns out as good as the reputation that precedes him is.

"May I offer you another drink?" He asks offering his hand.

"That would be amazing." I say whilst simultaneously placing my hand in his.

We excuse ourselves from our families and any surrounding company before he leads me over to the open bar, requesting two more champagnes. 

Once they are placed in front of his he turns to me with a sly look to which I respond with a questioning one of my own.