Leaving William alone even for a short time was always difficult for her to bear. He was all she had, and for the longest time her entire life had revolved around him, and her lands. However, she had missed the ball in Pemberton, and to miss this one, well it would have tantamount to social suicide. Or so she had told her parents when they asked her why she was attending. She had spent hours trying to convince their father to let Maire come as well, and finally in the end, he had relented. So the two had traveled together to attend the ball.


It was exactly everything one would have expected for the coronation of a king, no expense had been spared and everything was glittering, from the silver candelabras, to the people themselves everything was done up to the nines. Eavan smoothed down the skirt of her deep russet gown having scandalously forgone the farthingale and multitude of underskirts normally worn; her dress hugged the curves of her body. The corset made the most of her small bosom actually creating a slight bit of cleavage, which was accentuated by fox fur taken. The golden embroidery around the hem and along the sleeves slashed to show a creamy under gown suggested leaves and the garnets on the bodice sparkled in the light of the candles. The russet and black mask she wore suggested a fox without being blatant, and her hip length wavy red hair was caught up in a long braid adorned with garnet pins.


She carefully took a glass of wine from a passing server and sipped it delicately. She fully intended to make the most of the evening, it had been quite a long time since she had been able to enjoy the idle of court life. Her lands and her son took up most of her time, and what was left she devoted to her writing, but that was neither here nor there. Eavan watched the people dance, her fingers caressing the cool surface of the goblet. Her eyes scanned the dance floor for Maire but did not see her. Turning to glance among the crowd of onlookers she noticed her sister in the shadows speaking to a gentleman. From the look on her face, it must be Lord Kesteven. She turned back to watch the dancers a deep chuckle escaping her lips. Her sister would have to deal with it on her own, everyone must grow up sometime, and it seemed Maire’s time was now.

His discussion with Lord Whitmore had been rousing indeed, and Hugh would be sure to remember the young man in the future. But the King's coronation was of great import, and it had drawn a huge number of courtiers. Speaking with just one soul would be of no use to Hugh. And so he had bid his good-byes to his new acquaintance before disappearing into the throng.


The reality of the situation was that Hugh preferred to stay in the background and get a feel for those around him before making any moves. He used this opportunity to accept a glass of wine from a server, and made a brief examination of his attire. Tonight was the night to make impressions. Although he was not the most extravagantly dressed soul present, he'd managed to acquire a well-cut suit of clothes in silks and velvets. His colors were as much the Sapphire Court's as they were Ashton's, varying shades of blues alongside a rich purple that reminded one of nothing more than good wine and grapes. Bronze embroidery accented the colors, and Hugh's half-mask was wreathed in a careful arrangement of grapevines. The slight but anticipatory smile he finished his attire with indicated that Hugh was more likely than not here as a spirit of revelry.


He spent some time examining his fellow courtiers, watching the familiar faces as much of those he did not immediately recognize. The scent of court politics was rife in the air, but it was nearly overwhelmed by the tension given off by multiple young lovers. Absurd, the lot of it, but Hugh thrived on it regardless.


He'd been prepared to follow the path of inevitable gossip when he noticed the vixen standing not too far off. Tall, redheaded and alone? Truly, nothing was a greater pity than this. Hugh rearranged his plans and strode up without hesitation, stopping before the woman to present her with a slightly overdone bow. "My lady."

For all that she had become quite content on her land surrounded by the town she had come to love, Eavan loved the social whirl of balls and parties. So much would happen upon one night, assignations would be made, politics discussed, lies told and truths revealed. It was nothing short of fascinating. As a writer watching the people as they wove through not only the motions of the dances on the floor, but the motions of conduct dictated by society helped her flesh out
characters, and gave ideas for future projects. There was nothing that was not within the artist’s purview, after all.


Although observing had become quite the habit over the last three years, she still could not hold back the desire to jump right in and be in the thick of things. She had always been the type of woman who wanted to feel each experience for herself, rather then just blandly describe it. A gentleman appeared out of the crowd to stand before her and she smiled at him, her eyes alight with interest as he swept her an exaggerated bow.He was older then she was, by quite a bit, but he was still quite eye-catching in his outfit of blue and purple. His mask did little to hide his features, but it was his eyes that enthralled her the most; a vivid shade of blue they seemed to sparkle with mirth in the light of the candles.


“My lord.” She replied as she dropped a curtsy her eyes downcast in feigned modesty. The curtsy was a hair too low showing off the what little décolletage she had to display, as her dark green eyes rose to meet his slowly. Her lips twitched slightly as the game began. Now this was something she had missed most of all, the harmless flirtation that was to be had at court. At times it could turn into more… her sister had certainly found that out, but usually it went no further then simple gestures and meaningful glances, laden with emotions no one truly allowed themselves to feel.


How cynical she had become, since the death of her husband, or had it been her forced marriage that had hardened her heart so, to things other then her son? She dragged her mind back to focus on the man in front of her, before it could wander off along paths best suited to being alone, rather then surrounded by the court. “Are you enjoying the ball?” she asked him her husky voice pitched low and soft, to make him lean closer. It had been so long since she had been able to have a little fun.

Hugh's eyes crinkled in delight, narrowing for but a moment as laugh lines appeared at their corners. She seemed very young, but in watching the lady curtsy he was charmed that she seemed to know all the right gestures.


"Moreso now than ever before," he said. His voice was on the low end of the register. A bit raspy around the edges, it did not fit with his appearance in the least. "If I may be so bold, pray tell why a woman as lovely as yourself is shielded amongst the tapestries when she ought to be out and dancing in all her glory?" Hugh didn't need to see her whole face for Eavan to be lovely. No matter what his intentions ever were, he somehow always managed to find every woman a creature of beauty and mystery.


Tonight was no exception, and how Eavan was dressed only spurred his interest. The Lord Dionysus studied the Lady Vixen perhaps too intently, and damned if that absent-minded smile didn't budge for a moment.

The low, slightly raspy voice that eased out of the man before her sent a shiver down her spine and drew a smile to her face. The way his eyes danced was fascinating, as if he like her was enthralled with people in general, and in this instance her in particular. Such interest was something she had craved over the last three years.


“It would seem the perfect scene if I replied, ‘Because I have been waiting for you to ask me.’ However, the truth is that I am a watcher by nature, and people fascinate me. Nevertheless, should you care to ask me to dance, I would not deny you.” Her fingers ran around the rim of the glass in her hand, which she held close to her body, enticing him to look at her. Signals she had long since been out of practice at using, and ones her sister would probably be scandalized to see.


Eavan met his eyes and wondered what things lay just beneath the surface, for it was a rare person who showed their true selves to all and sundry. She lifted her glass and took a sip of the wine, delicately licking a drop from her lips. She would never have been quite so bold before she was married, but now her life was hers to live, and for the first time in years she wanted desperately to live that life to the fullest. “Or perhaps I should ask you, as scandalous as that would be…would you think less of me for my boldness my lord?” she asked with a wicked glimmer in her eye. She did not think he would, but one could never be too sure with men.

"My dear lady, I would be honored to take part in such a scandal." Hugh turned his back to the crowd, purposefully training all his attention on Eavan. He maintained his smile, utterly delighted by her aforementioned boldness. Polite society would have declared her too tall, likely not curvaceous enough. Many courtiers would have gone great lengths to compensate, but the fact that this woman stood so self-confident left Hugh with a pleased idea as to her character.


The look Hugh gave her -- the examination, in fact -- was a lingering one. Although he kept a proper distance between them, he made a point of not breaking eye contact. Even as Hugh drained his wine glass, his eyes were on Eavan.


"I am quite the observer by nature as well, my lady, and I must admit that you have thoroughly ensnared me. Were you to do me the honor of asking a dance, I could only comply and hope that we trade learned observations." Hugh completely destroyed his solemn tone with a wink. That it came across as less lascivious than teasing was a credit to years of playing the courtier game.

Ah, she had read him correctly it seems, at least if his words were anything to go by. Not that she ever really took anyone at their word these days, the court being what it was, rife with all sorts of lies and deceit. However, for all the rolls that the courtiers learned to play to survive the gristmill that was the Ton, she had the feeling this man was being honest with her. Perhaps it was the ever present twinkle in his eye, or the matter-of-fact way that he looked at her, but she felt comfortable around him.


“In that case my lord, would you care to dance with me?” Her eyes no longer held any uncertainty, although she was not sure any had leaked out of her before, she had gotten so much better at masking the slight insecurities she had often felt about her body. Her mind had always been her compensation, well that and her tendency to be a bit outrageous.


She had never skirted the edge of propriety quite so closely before, though, and the thrill of it was a rush. She shivered slightly at his lingering look, and her cheeks heated a touch, oh yes, it had been far too long since she had let go, and enjoyed herself… now her only concern was how to keep herself from going too far. She held out her hand, hoping he would accept it, and her offer to dance, if only to know what his touch would feel like. For if his gaze could make her react, what would the feeling of his hand in hers do?

"I am undeserving of such courtesy," Hugh responded, the portrait of seriousness. Even as he flagged down one of the many castle servants to retrieve their drinks, he was accepting Eavan's outstretched hand and in the process of another bow. When he looked up at the slight young woman once more, his smile had returned. It was small and barely there, but somehow it managed to speak volumes.


Physical contact was not something Hugh allowed himself to indulge in nearly as often as he liked, and so rare occasions like these always sent a jolt through him. Eavan's hand in his was a pleasure interrupted only by a servant, and Hugh wasted no time in depositing his empty glass so as to focus more on this lovely young creature. "But the offer having been made, I shall capitalize on it before you may have second thoughts. Shall we, my lady?"


His back still to the rest of the ball, Hugh watched Eavan entreatingly. He was, he admitted to himself, very curious to see where this encounter would lead him.