"Madam, she saw my face, not yours."
"Yes, you've said that, but what I've been trying to express is that she may possibly be waiting downstairs to see who emerges from this room."
Her mouth had been more tolerable while she was silent.
"Well, shall I be the first to descend?" Niall suggested, though his focus rested on ensuring that he wouldn't have to make a fifth attempt to retie his cravat.
"No, it would be the greater of two evils if another of your guests found me alone in your chambers."
He nodded while rising from the foot of the bed with his hand at his vest, an additional precaution to any other artifacts that may refuse to submit to order. Strolling up behind the crossed-armed, elderly woman, he slid his hands along the linear slope below her lower arms. As he graced his lips along the backside of her lower jaw, she flinched a re-establishment of distance between them.
"You may open the door now."
He flexed his hands and had to remind himself that he was as disinterested in her presence as this woman strived to appear of him. Stepping to the side, he complied to her command, all the while restraining a mocking repeat of it.
"I apologize for the interruption. What time was allotted was alluring, Mrs.--," Niall reached for his tailcoat's inner pocket for his favor.
"I believe it's best we part as acquaintances."
Her husband must frequent the red light district.
The anonymous hag jolted the door from his hand, but had either enough decency or self-preservation to not repeat the earlier abuse that caused the door to cry out.
Niall returned to the guest bed and, though its mattress stiff, the warmth tempted him with a promise of slumber. Inwardly groaning in protest to his rational refusal, he rolled upon his back and became very aware of the silence cloaking his room in comparison to the menagerie of voices from below. Sleep received his heartfelt apology once he accepted that the paper-thin floorboards required him to wander below and join the party of strangers. He reassured both the temptation and himself that an hour would be sufficient in deriving whether anyone had a witnessing ear to the earlier disturbance.
The outcome of the additional minutes spent combating sleep--since he was uncertain as to the likelihood of his happening upon the bitter ol' bat should he emerge early--was that opportunity presented Miss Barrettmore's substitute for a farewell to surface.
Irritation to the surface of his palms killed any remaining urges toward slumber. Elevating his torso, he rested a shoulder upon the bed post and went to work to alleviate the sensation. He questioned the fundamental reasoning for her disgust. Certainly she was not unfamiliar with what may have transpired had she not trespassed.
Niall grinned as the itching heeled.
Laughing in further confirmation of his original hypothesis, a curiosity conspired toward Miss Barrettmore's reasoning for choosing to visit the upstairs hallways in abandonment to the undoubtedly elaborate array of entertainment below. Well, perhaps not 'reason', but 'person'. Curiosity made him aware of the ridiculously stiff nature of the bed and increased his newly found impatience for testing out his hypothesis.
"Claremont!"
Niall turned, now reassured that someone was indeed vying for his attention.
He had scaled through the rooms inside in search of the chit, but found that the percentage of the ton, who took to Peter's invites, had increased the heat and airlessness of the rooms. The excess illumination was also of equal blame. His outdoor search was hampered, for a period of time, by his need to wait for his eyes to readjust to the difference in illumination. Not his wisest decision, for they had adjusted enough to see the displeased expression upon his caller's face.
"What a splendid spectacle. You've truly outdone yourself," Niall negotiated.
"Please, appease my spirits with verifying that you are not engaging in your own private spectacles on the premises."
"I am not." At the present.
Peter sighed in relief and began directing the two of them back to the airless rooms, "I had received a few inquiries regarding your whereabouts. Even one by Miss Barrettmore."
Niall coughed.
Peter halted, and adjusted himself to achieve a better view of Niall. "Please, tell me that was a cough of the influenza."
"I'm delighted to see where my health lies in your list of concerns."
"Niall, I've been spending the last few hours playing host. Do not try my remaining patience."
He was tempted to do just that in order to influence the same annoyance that Niall held for his friend's present persona, but chose to be the better of two bitter men. "It was a laugh. I merely had something in my throat."
Peter nodded, but both saw the clarity in his bronchial passage.
How Niall could have missed the two ladies was beyond him, but he believed the true abnormality lied in Peter's minute-less tracking abilities for Miss Barrettmore. The lady always-of-topic, and her more-favorable friend, were hovering beside the entrance to the ballroom, quite taken with their punch and isolated conversation.
"Miss Barrettmore. I see you've finally secured some punch."
The chit turned to address Peter, punch cup midway to her lips, and being the independent to the quartet's bow. "My apologies. I was not aware you were anticipating my tasting."
Peter shortened his bow and his cheeks had the color of an abused bottom. "No, no. I was referencing to our dilemma during last night's assembly. Neither of us had managed to retrieve some punch."
Peter pointed to Niall, possibly expecting his assistance in the anecdote. Regardless of whether he would provide, after Miss Barrettmore's eyes followed the hand gesture, she coughed a giggle. Niall questioned how Miss Barrettmore found humor where he had failed, but reminded himself that the act was her favorite past time.
The love-struck fool was pleased with the unworthy response. "Yes, well...So, what conversation did I interrupt...If I may ask?"
Miss Wade exchanged glances with her friend. "You always may. We were simply marveling at how well you cater to your guests."
Niall gave the girls a questioning look, but neither seemed interested in returning the attention.
Peter was all a-flutter. "Oh, well, you are too kind. Thank you very much. It is merely my desire to ensure that all my guests are properly cared for. In fact, I was just in the midst of a discussion about the seasoning of our meat. You see, I was worried they may have been over-smoked, but it seems that no one minds the wrinkled texture."
Miss Barrettmore choked on her punch. It was a shame she didn't expire by it.
Peter looked as if he was witnessing the death of a family member and cared. "Are you alright?"
"Quite content. I...simply find it delightful that...certain persons prefer their meat wrinkled," Miss Barrettmore's reply poisoned Miss Wade with a case of the giggles.
The flirt was gossiping.
God was one of possibly many witnesses to the number of ears who had been the audience to 'her' tale. The impropriety and apathy she must hold for the hag's reputation. Not to mention her gormless amusement in how he conducted his affairs. She was a witless mute who could only enunciate sounds for the majority of her conversations and what sentences she could form were riddled with stutters. Yet, not once, did he split a gut over her follies. If anything, she could have demonstrated a level of respect toward her elders--elder...He was not four and thirty.
"Miss Wade, are you aware of the name to the next dance?" Niall's interruption cured the giggles.
Voices from the adjacent ballroom masked the silence that occurred while the three exchanged glances.
"The Sphinx." Miss Wade gave Niall a speculative glance from the corner of her eyes.
"Ah, it's been some time since I've heard it play. I've a hankerin' to participate."
"I'm sure there are plenty of endearing women eager for a partner in the other room," Peter said, while eyeing his friend cautiously, before presenting Miss Barrettmore with a smile. "After all, we must cater to the pleasantries of all our guests."
The poor excuse that the Yankees could provide for ladies filled the room with exaggerated laughter.
"A brilliant idea, except it is a lively dance, and I'm fearful of choosing a partner I'm unfamiliar with. Miss Barrettmore." Niall was privileged with the most delightful relief of high decibels and a blatant display of terror upon the chit's face. "I don't believe anyone could match you in your liveliness this night. Might you assist me in this participation?"
"Uh..."
"A simple 'yes' would suffice."
"Actually, we had promised a friend of ours to return promptly for a discussion on--."
"The night is still young, Miss Wade. You may give your excuses for Miss Barrettmore, and I shall return her promptly upon our completion."
"Well, on that note, I had intended to direct Miss Barrettmore to—and Miss Wade, of course—to a sampling of our catering."
"Your food is overcooked and your guests are too polite for insults. Certainly you are of the same temperament, Miss Barrettmore?"
With her escapes snuffed, her eyes widened at the emphasized offer of Niall's hand. Her fingers entwined with one another and they began to maneuver like worms.
"Yes."
His brows narrowed as his exposed hand began to itch. The offer had been made to entice her confession, not to receive her approval. Had Mrs. Emmons mislead him with false gossip? Now he had to calculate a way to alter her acceptance. Regardless of his distaste for the girl, he was not the sort of man to go back on his offer.
Detangling her fingers, she placed one hand in the offering at a glacial pace. The itching became more evident when the tips of her fingers grazed a hair's length away from the result of his poor choice in dressing sans gloves. The weightlessness of her hand in his own forced him to examine the conjunction. His life seemed dependent upon avoiding a view of Peter's features as he briskly lead this conjunction to the line of couples already forming in the ballroom.
Upon seeing the alignment thus far, an idea hatched in Niall's head.
"I hope you are content with providing an example," he said once the two were situated in the line.
Niall granted her some acknowledgement of wit as she observed his choice, "Um, I...I may be wrong, but I believe the head of the line is reserved for the highest rank."
"You are correct," Niall grinned. "But I can't imagine anyone else present surpassing ownership of a baronetcy."
She returned to wringing her fingers. "Owning land and holding the title are two different things."
Niall flexed his eyebrows, as he was uncertain as to whether she was philosophizing or insulting him. "I assure you, I own both."
A demonstration of the girl's excellent dental health tested Niall's restraint to aid the onset of itching in his chest.
"Oh," She said, as if not succumbing to Niall's attempts of terror. "You mean you're a baron."
Miss Barrettmore had the audacity to add a giggle. "But, I don't understand. Mr. Talwin introduced you as 'Mister'. Why not 'Lord', My Lord--Your Lord...Lord? I'm...not certain as to which one should be used. There are limited sources for practice in these parts."
During a mediocre attempt to follow her rant, Niall's lower lip had descended. Out of all the opportunities for her to find her voice, her timing was distasteful. The line of participants was becoming more prominent now, and his limited time to alter her own lead him to a final ultimatum.
"Why were you in the upper wings?" Niall interrupted the rampant tangent that she had allowed continued-freedom during his trail of thoughts.
Recognizing the formation of an inner curve to her lips, he continued before the repeated note could render him deaf, "As you've been empathetic enough to divulge my private affairs amongst my strangers, and having witnessed little yourself--."
Niall inhaled a forced breath upon her giggle interrupting his speech.
"Having witnessed little yourself," He continued again, "You must be familiar with what would've transpired in order to be so...amused by the scene."
"'Familiar'? Certainly you don't think it...natural to be intimate with people of a particular accumulation of years."
"You're avoiding the point, Miss Barrettmore," Niall scoffed his restraint of disgust at how easily she succumbed to chastising him before admitting her own short-comings. "I see you've admitted to recognizing the intimacy in the scene."
"Well...you were...rather close to one another by..." She placed the tips of her fingers to her lips.
Before she could enunciate her favorite syllable, Niall quickly interrupted, "Upon our chancing in the woods today, your cheeks were reddened and you wore a gentleman's jacket. Perhaps now you understand the sort of intimacy I speak of."
"I assure you, I do not." She deceitfully blushed modesty.
"I know the sort of company you keep."
"What company do I keep?"
He was quite determined to avoid the topic of 'The Birds and The Bees' when she was no-doubt an expert herself, but refused to allow her an escape through ignorance. "Miss Barrettmore, you are trifling with other men while encouraging my friend's affections."
Not even the yellow glow of pseudo-illumination could conceal the blanching of her skin.
Niall watched in devious admiration of her squirming under the exposure of her secret. No friend or potential suitor could summon the excuse she required to escape this faux pas (though if they would, shame on them).
"That is, uh," she paused, no doubt conceiving her lie, "An egregious accusation."
"Am I to comprehend that you refuse to acknowledge your trifles?"
"Wha--," She quickly turned to display her widened eyes. They no sooner dropped to the ground. Niall waited as she basked in her shame.
"No, not refusing, I--," She finally began, but could only find enough will to tilt her head to emphasize the brief sentence. "I can't refuse--."
"So, it is true--?"
"No, no! Far from. It is false. Very false."
"It is false you wish to acknowledge your trifles--?"
"Wha--no!"
"So, you admit to them?"
"No! There are no trifles!"
Niall shrugged his lip while Miss Barrettmore occupied herself with her ragged breathing. He was not the sort of simpleton to believe her readily capable of admitting to such a debasing characteristic. But her stumbling speech was enough to confirm his suspicions and put an end to this matter.
But before Niall could speak, the guilty party spoke while still bowing her head in shame, "B-besides. What right have you to chastise me if it were? You're a hypocrite who finds warmth in the beds of hags."
The weight of the eyes of the newly situated couple to the side of them became very apparent to Niall. Of certainty, the two would be more inclined to judge the easily satisfied man over the chit who could not curb her ill-timed, vulgar tongue.
He saw scarlet before they blotched Miss Barrettmore's cheeks. She began to cower behind worm-like fingers while investing a glance toward the musical providers for this evening.
"Perhaps it would be best if I sit this one out," She offered in mid-curtsy.
Fifteen minutes ago, he would've been delighted to see her awkward retreat to the comforts of her mother-hen of a friend, but fifteen minutes ago, he had been lenient in believing her possible slaughter to his reputation was from ignorance of the harm it may cause.
However, fifteen minutes had passed and, in such time, she had willfully slighted him before his face. She still was a witless mute, but she held enough awareness as to how to inflict harm. That was all the justification he needed to relinquish his seething fury.
"On the contrary, Miss Barrettmore. I've yet to see you as lively as this night. Allow me to be the first to break in your dancing shoes."
The music began in the midst of his sentence and interrupting her curtsy. After completing his required bow of initiation, he found that Miss Barrettmore was in much the same state as she was prior to his upper body rotation: lower jaw skewed backwards and eyes of a deer. Detaching one of her hands from scrunching the material of her printed gown, he alighted her into step before separating to commence the initial cast off.
Upon his return, he found that his partner had disappeared during the dance's allotted separation. A disappointing frown emerged from his lips at her early escape while he was left unsatisfied of fulfilling his duty to invoke her karma. The frown was corrected upon further investigation revealing that not only had she not fled, but she had lost herself amongst her position two dancers down, rather than returning after the cast off.
He mentally apologized for ever doubting Mrs. Emmons' skill in gossip.
Niall chose to improvise with a solo lead down the middle to retrieve his partner. Miss Barrettmore's eyes widened past his expectations when he offered his hand, due to the dance's requirements, but she continued to embarrass herself further by shrinking away. Forcing their conjunction, he attempted to return them to their spot in step, but was slowed down by the chit's stumbling, despite the simplicity of the step.
Needless to say, she neglected to participate in the next cast off into second place. So, after completing his, he directed her into the allemande. Glancing in the distance, he contemplated whether the karma being executed was hers alone at this point. Suddenly, his attentions were brought to the floor.
"Yes, madam, that is my foot. Three physicals should be sufficient."
"I'm terribly sorry! I didn't mean to!" Apparently she couldn't utter her sympathies without ceasing motion, therein providing an additional physical.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he positioned her in second place before retreating to his place across from her. As their group circled, and Miss Barrettmore at a safe distance from his digits, Niall reasoned that it was more advantageous for him to retreat from this spectacle.
As the new lead was established, he made quick work to say what he had left to address, "Miss Barrettmore, in the future, if you should be enlightened to the personal matters of another, I would advise you to shelter the information. In fact, I had intended to do so with your dance credentials."
"Wait, you knew--!?"
"Out of respect for my friend, and as reconciliation for now--."
"Wait, hold on a second!"
A grunt was heard from her side when they were required to step once more.
"I shall be happy to keep your fidelity a secret."
"There is no fi--please, could we simply...dance?" She whined.
"But I'll warn you not to pursue them further if you have any interest in my friend."
Niall made a swift bow and retreated just seconds before the group began to circle once more. Making quick work to locate the nearest door, he began to distance himself from the room and prayed that the party lived like an amaranth. An empty house with Peter would be second in tolerability only to Miss Barrettmore's dancing.
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Dedication to @Fanquinine for the contintinued honest comments past the reward given for participating in making a cover for your story "Vampires and Supernovas". For those of you interested in Sci-fi and interesting in a refreshing take in the genre (and a good laugh), I would suggest checking the story out. Or if you're into BoyxBoy, then check out Fanquinine's other stories: "Crush" and "Vicious Legacy".
If you liked this, please take the time to vote and/or comment. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and have a lovely day.