The Lady Veronica Carlyle looked absolutely stunning, if she did say so herself. She so rarely let her hair down, so she had taken the opportunity today. Several, tactically placed hairpins had been placed within not to hold up her hair so much as to hold in place what was upon the hairpins, which was several gorgeous cuts of amber. As the glittered and glowed in the light it gave her naturally blond-streaked walnut hair a more honeyed look. Her dress was a long, flowing gown. The dangerously plunging neckline took full advantage of Vee's ample cleavage, and the corset of the dress clung tightly to her hips, accentuating every single curve she owned. Her dress was a beautiful soft satin on the outside. The sleeves had only four slashings--to the front and back as well as the sides--to expose the muted ivory undergarment, the dress itself a rich golden hue, with cream-colored embroidery throughout the entire thing. Set in place as a permanent brooch, as though to draw attention to her cleavage, was the single departure from the yellow-gold theme, and that was a large, brilliant oval fire opal in a gold setting. Upon her feet, beneath the gently resting folds of the dress, were a pair of dark golden slippers. Because it was a masquerade she did indeed wear her mask, but it was little more then an amber eye cover, revealing most of her face and her entrancing eyes behind them.
She looked stunning, and she knew it. She was dressed to kill, and had a feeling she would draw many eyes away from their wives or fiancees, and she loved that fact. She was a seductress, plain and simple, and she played her part very well. As she moved across the gathering, her hips swayed with a hypnotic, serpentine grace that usually had a strange tendency to illicit lustful thoughts in most. She carefully claimed a cup from a passing by tray, sipping gently at the wine within, as she scanned the crowd.
Most seemed a boorish lot to her, people she really wasn't all that interested in. There was one to whom she payed particular attention, however. He was a guest of honor for the King, which said much for the duchy of Ashton, and was already well-liked by many.
Lord Nicholas Fleetwood.
She knew him well, had grown up knowing him. He was a second cousin by way of her mother's sister's family, so there was no relation by blood, but they were related nonetheless. She'd even grown up babysitting him, though there were periods that she didn't know what happened while babysitting, blacking out for most of the time. Nothing ever seemed to go wrong, though, so she accepted it as 'being forgetful' and tossed the thought aside, though she still remembered the creepily fearful looks Nicholas would direct at her for a while after each instance it occurred. He'd never really told her why, though.
When she caught him glancing her direction she did not let her gaze shy away as most women might. She stared right back at him, her full lips curving upwards into a soft smile as she raised her cup in silent toast to the King's Champion. Her eyes, however, spoke of something else...some sort of secret desire. He was indeed a very handsome gentleman, and he knew all the right people...he might be the perfect pawn, especially considering how he had Lucy's ear moreso then she, a fact that niggled her slightly. It would be no surprise that one such as she might lust for one like Nicholas, and while she thought seducing him would at least make for a lot of fun as one of the more enjoyable targets of hers, she also genuinely wanted to get closer to him.
Not for, yanno, wholesome reasons, but it was a genuine want nonetheless...the closer she got to him, the closer she got to the Duchess' ear by proxy. Perhaps she could even convince him to wed her at some point...but no, that was a ways down the line. First thing was first, she needed to charm the pants off of him.
Literally.
No one who didn't know Nicholas as a child could have ever guessed that the lean form of today was once a pudgy little youth with fat fingers and round cherub like cheeks. The ruddy blond curls of childhood had tamed and glossened into copper waves of luxury. The troublesome boy who would tie his sister's hair in knots so tight they had to be cut and who would lock the cellar door behind the sculleries had really grown into something of a spectacular specimen. Sure, he had a bit of a reputation as a womanizer, but what handsome young Lord of any note didn't? He was charming, charismatic, and easily liked by most... and he knew it. Nicholas had an ego and it was very rare that anyone saw him hesitate.
But Nicholas knew better than anyone that caution was needed when approaching Veronica Carlyle.
He'd seen the woman enter and ever since she had his eyes had been unconsciously scanning back in her direction to make note of where she was. He also made note of how she walked, how she held herself, even insignificant things as how she might glance in someone's direction. It was enough to make some think Nicholas might have an eye for the woman seven years his senior. While Veronica was far and beyond the realms of a striking beauty, this was not the reason he was keeping tabs on her.
There was little in the world that made Nicholas' insides churn. Veronica Carlyle and her... friends... happened to be one of them. He knew a scarce few of them intimately. He'd even egged them on more often than not... but even in his humor of driving the woman deeper into the depths of madness, there were sparks that he definitely would not toy with. Lady Carlyle was dangerous to keep around. Why had he not yet convinced Lucy to cart her off somewhere?
Probably because he still had a fear of the woman deep within the recesses of his mind...
But thats another story altogether.
Again his attention sprawled the room, this time catching Veronica looking back his way. The corner of his lip twitched upwards into a half grin and when he was sure there wasn't complete malice reflecting back at him, he sauntered her way, meeting her with a flourishing bow, the peacock feathers of his mask nearly sweeping across her face. "Why I was hoping to find my cousin, the Lady Carlyle, and dance with her." He spoke with good humor, playing the game of the masquerade even though it was quite obvious who was who most of the time. "Since I can't seem to find her, perhaps you would do me the honor Lady?"
As Nicholas approached, a small smile twisted upon her face to a polite, ladylike smile. She may have babysat him when he was a pudgy young thing, but now he might as well be the Duke for all the Duchess of Ashton listened to his words. Most people weren't aware of the true nature of Lord Nicholas Fleetwood, but Vee had seen it. She was quite familiar with his twisted smile and his cruel eyes...the ones he showed to so few people.
To him society was Nicholas' plaything, women therein doubly so, and she suspected that she was no different in his eyes. However, in spite of all his horrific games that he played with so many different people, there were only a scant few that he was ever weary of. One was his father, for obvious reasons, but one of the others was herself. A part of her wondered if because she had sat for him on so many occasions that for some reason he viewed her as an authority figure, but she wasn't quite sure. He was weary of few, but she seemed to be the only person she could almost swear he was scared of.
...but no, that was silly.
As he bowed flourishingly before her, grinning with his sly expression, she gave a similar smile back, curtsying slightly.
"My Lord, I would be honored to stand in for the Lady Carlyle, until you can find her, that is. As for yourself, My Lord, you've given me a clue already by stating that she is your cousin...and she does not have many male cousins who would attend such a gala event...hence I believe that you can only be the Lord Nicholas Fleetwood, and why such a dapper man as yourself would wish to conceal such a handsome visage is beyond me..." Her tone was playful, as she was tired of the pomp and circumstance of most of the stuffy lords and ladies, preferring instead some verbal dancing along with the physical. She was on no mood to be dry and humorless like so many gathered.