A girl, young and striking, moved easily through the streets of Everbury. Unearthy, her smile was a distracted thing, and it was very obvious she was paying little to no attention at all to the elderly lady she followed. All she seemed to hear was white noise, along with the occasional rules that she made note of only so that she could disobey them. You are not to go anywhere near that Duke Richard, you must attend mass every sunday, you are to stay fresh-faced - no more of that silly kohl!, I don't want to see you dressing in anything but the most demure of gowns. On and on the woman went! Bridget's only satisfaction came from the fact that she could drift away, dreamily, into a world of her making, one her imagination dictated.

"You are never to speak unless spoken to."

Bridget imagined riding a horse of her own, flying down the paths and backroads of Everbury, her hair loose, free without a hood or net or silly veil to hold it down. She was wearing a simple country dress and soaring across the terrain. Nobody noticed her, nobody cared. She was free to fly in the little world in her mind, where reputations could be damned. Freedom, oh such a sweet word. Bridget hated that her gender took it away from her, locked her up like some fragile songbird sold to the highest bidder. Well, it would not be that way. She had already broken free of her father and his bonds - an act entirely unplanned - and more so, had escaped the marriage to a man merely amused by her youthful good looks and spirit. If she could do that, there was no questioning what she may do.

"Be careful of your virtue child."

As they walked, Bridget took in all the many things to be seen. Birght cloth strung up everywhere, in every imaginable shade - though there was a lot of darker, coal-colored fabrics to be found - and dozens of colored birds, all caged and frightened, so many different things! And all her grandmother could focus on was on how she should behave once she was living within the court. At the moment, they were supposed to be shopping for a new pair of dancing slippers - Bridget had ruined hers riding - but of course, nothing was ever so simple. Finally, the young girl stopped, watching her vulture of a grandmother enter a small shop. The woman didn't even notice her absence.

Thrilled to be free, Bridget hurried in the opposite direction, back to the lot where they were auctioning off the horses. It was the last place her grandmother would think of to look, and would offer plenty of time to explore. On the block at the moment was a big grey gelding with dapples on his flank. He had a kind eye, and Bridget could imagine herself riding a horse like that. Once more, she found herself smiling in that distracted way, not noticing the people around her. Given that she had no money, the girl was not concerned about being robbed even if she wore a smokey black dress, surely no one would think twice of the veiled girl.

In days like these, when the skies were gray with overcast and the general attitudes of most citizens of Harleston, Richard's own desire to even exist were much far less. With his now ex-wife in a coma for more than a few months now Richard was quite disheartened, so much so he had not even accepted any of his servants or mistresses from entering his bedchambers. That was not too unusual for most men who had suffered similiar circumstances, but for Richard it was so unusual that many of the Court and Manor thought something was deeply wrong with him. He was not acting like the Lord Richard they had known for a long time in many other ways as well, but his apetite for women being nill was shocking and frightening. And, this was the reason that Alvin had told him he needed to get out, for at least a day. Alvin was his closest friend and advisors, having risen from the mere ranks of servant he was closer to Richard than any other.

Walking the streets in a dark black loose shirt, tight black trousers, and his black boots to match the rest of his attire though Richard was wearing the normal garb of nobles, as he wore it now there was much more sadness behind it all. With his hair slicked back though, he, like always, played the constant role as a very suave man, very skilled in sword, seduction, and his incredible singing ability. The more educated of the duchy and city here knew he was very attuned to the art of diplomacy and war as well, knowing very well that should he ever come to rule he would lead the duchy in a very different path. Entering the city of Everbury many of the civilians recognized him immediately, he wasn't even wearing the cape or anything that showed the crest of Harleston. His face was just that well-known.

There was one thing he loved though, almost more than the company of women, and much more than his love of war, diplomacy, and son. And, that was horses, and the lot that had been set aside for the new mares and colts, of different breeds brought from all over Adesia. Though he had many horses he owned already, it was always possible he would purchase another. One could never have too many horses, that was how Richard looked at it. And, seeing the lot set for them, and all the horses on display for purchase, Richard smiled for the first time this whole day. People parted the way as they saw him come through the crowd and those who didn't were forced to part by the bodyguards who accompanied him everywhere. Walking up to the fence he leaned again it, looking at all the steeds and other horses, calling over the lot owner for a description of each he liked, and his take on the best ones on that lot.

It was as he was talking with the man and looking at the horses that Richard's eyes were caught by a woman dressed all in black, of such fine dress she had to be of noble origin. He smiled as he looked at her, a display of friendliness, as he also noticed her to be quite young as well, younger than his interest was truly sparked. He noticed the young one's eyes quite keenly focused on a gelding that was currently set for bid. She seemed to not have the means to bid herself, or the ability to afford it, but for something like this it was mere change to him to spend on a horse of such quality. Turning, he looked at the horse as well, a gelding with specks on its flank, giving it much uniqueness. Whistling, he waved the man he had spoken to before over with a finger. The bidding began between them, and after speaking to him for some time the man turned and bid double the current asking price, everyone shutting up, not daring to bid further against the Duke's brother. Smiling as he won the bid he turned to look at the young lady, who appeared so focused on the creature.

Finally, he walked over to her and looked back at the horse. [B]"I bought him because of you, you seem to have a keen eye for him. What is your name My Lady?"[B] He was much smarter this time, he knew she was young, but believed her to be at least of sixteen years of age, to have called this one child would have been another very embarrassing mistake.

Some day, with a strong horse to aid her escape, Bridget hoped to be free of all courtly entanglements - if only because they so often overlooked her intelligence, focusing on the fairness of her face, the thickness of her red-brown hair. She was seen as an object of beauty, as useful as the very horse she coveted, only in her case she could be bartered and traded for a higher rank, wealth, and respectability. It was why she so longed for freedom, to taste it again like she had in her youth, playing in the forest with her brothers, uncaring of who might have seen her ankles under her hitched-up skirt as she ran, leaping over logs and dashing past branches. How she craved her own freedom, distracted herself with silly notions of running away. Not that such notions were silly, at any rate, given that she'd left Marcheford for good.

Distraction didn't hold out for very long, however, and Bridget wasn't so lost in thought that she missed the friendly smile directed her way. The man was handsome enough, clad in the jet black of upper nobility - her own dress was several shades lighter, though the difference was a subtle one - with nothing to relieve the colors. Creamy lace covered her bodice, breaking up the darkness of her clothing. Given how new she was to the area, his face was a mystery - of course, it would take a daft, dumb, and blind woman not to notice how the crowd reacted to this man. Clearly, he was on the upper crust - perhaps even the duke himself. Bridget turned her head away, watching the bustling servants preparing horses for sale, one darting to a gleaming bay while another dragged a mare from her weanling. The gelding was being haggled over now, and she didn't care to see who might be taking him home. It was better to dream and keep him safe in her dreamworld, where consequence was of little importance.

Until, that is, a sudden voice startled her back into reality, reeling her away from the allure that dreaming held. "I beg your pardon?" I bought him because of you. That was clearly what he'd said, yet Bridget was shocked by it still. Why would he do such a foolish thing, buying a horse based on a ladies fancy? True, Bridget was used to her beauty by now infatuating men, but this was very different indeed; he did not speak like a man utterly smitten, but instead as a friend might. He truly spoke as if she were almost on equal footing, and that too puzzled her. "My name is Lady Bridget Pentham, of Marcheford and now of Harleston, I suppose." She could help the confusion that still colored her words and clouded her face. This was supposed to be a fresh start, yet she was thinking back on all the things she had learned in Marcheford, all the things that had been expected of her and she had whole-heartily denied.

That thought seemed to mesh her features, bringing out a warm smile. Whatever his intention, he was not going to trap her - this was a new place, full of new people and new adventures to be had. She was no longer the pretty daughter of Christopher Pentham seeking a husband; she was Lady Bridget Pentham, of the Harleston Court. Even with her eyes lined in kohl, a white veil covering her dark hair, she was a woman in charge of her destiny now, without family or friends to shield and guard her, pushing towards a match that helped them climb the slippery slope to a higher rank. "Forgive me, but why buy a horse based on my judgement?" Her head tilted slightly, green eyes curious now. She was unsure of his title at the moment, and was avoiding the mention of one, but at the same time Bridget was secretly hoping it was someone her grandmother had forbade her to even glance at - perhaps the Duke's brother? Oh, wouldn't that be scandalous! Her dear grandmother was likely to fall into a dead faint if that ever happened.

Richard had a keen eye for horses as well, and he knew the horse was worth the price, its quality quite high enough for even far more than what he had bid. He was not stupid, and certainly wasn't just buying a horse based off a beautiful woman's interest in it. However, few could very well know that, without Alvin nearby he was sure no one did. He knew that likely many of those present assumed the second, knowing the rumors of his playboy lifestyle. But, that was just not the case. As he was now far closer to her than before he found her dress to be of certainly a lesser darkness than his own, quite less actually, which informed him she was a lesser noble. It was no matter, he cared not on what rank or lack of rank she was, just as he cared little about her beauty. There was no interest of that nature, at least not the overwhelming draw that lead him closer to most women.

She was very beautiful though, with a very lovely and innocent look on her face, her eyes certainly accentuated by the kohl around them and the white veil that covered her head. Her eyes did not come immediately to greet him as he had spoken to her, informed her of the purchase he had made because of her, and because of himself as well. Her own interest in the horse had simply sealed the deal, and that was all, though he would most likely never tell her such things. "Ah Pentham, you are Lady Elizabeth Pentham's granddaugther, it is a pleasure," he said with a bow of his head. He knew Lady Elizabeth, not well, but well enough to recognize the name and having heard that her granddaughter had been sent to live with her. All things were, of course, relayed to the Duke and the Manor and thus he had received word as well of a new noble having joined the Harleston Court. Witnessing her smile he knew not if she smiled because of him, of something he said, or for another reason but was greeted with a more curious look directed at him.

Her lovely green eyes were quite intense and drew his own blue eyes to be drawn back into them, the curiousity of the girl and her beauty causing him to smile. "I trust your judgement, I'm gifted with recognizing talent, even if you don't know it," he said, a very very odd thing to say. His genuine smile and the look in his eyes didn't say he was lying, but what he had said was so quite odd that one had to wonder. "Anyways, pardon me for not presenting myself as I asked of you, but I am Lord Richard Castyll. Now, please join me," he said walking by her, to the side of the market for the horse biddings where the horse he had just purchased was being groomed and displayed for him. Not even making sure she was following him, for he assumed she just would, he placed his hand in front of the horses muzzle and slowly reached around and placed his hand on the side of the horses head, patting him very lightly. Slowly he looked over the horse as the horse looked back at him, its big dark brown eyes studying its new master.

Given her status, Bridget knew she didn't understand enough about horses and their care to know if the gelding was indeed of a fine quality. She'd spent her life learning to embroider, manage households, and how to be a proper wife - oh, and there was that awful few years with a singing coach who'd declared her impossible. She'd just never been given a chance to learn about things that her father considered 'a man's business'. Which of course only served to make Bridget force every bit of information out of her brothers as possible; especially when it came to horses. At first she had not been terribly good - she'd shamed herself by falling off their old nag Bella twice - but eventually, Bridget grew to be twice as daring as her brothers, addicted to the freedom riding implied. It was a short-lived enjoyment, hwoever, as Bella had died and when her brothers married - leaving the family home - they'd taken all of their haughty Thoroughbreds with them, leaving the stable empty save for two aging carriage horses without a bit of spunk.

Around the pair, a few women whispered behind their fans, men elbowing eachother and pointing before heading off to continue inspecting the horses they hoped to bring home. It was enough for Bridget to decide this was indeed the infamous playboy she'd been heavily lectured about; the man she was supposed to avoid at all costs if she didn't want to be a ruined woman. Well, I don't care about such things. I can be friends with whom I choose. It might have been her stubborn nature, but in any case she had decided that she would not rebuff this man based solely on rumor. After all, even if he was the duke's brother it wasn't like he was going to tear away her skirts and maul her, no matter what Elizabeth seemed to believe. Another positive trait to speaking with him, or even befriending the man, was that it might chase potential suitors away. Who knew? She might never have to be chained to another person again.

Bridget curtsied now, a brief demure moment very unfitting to her often high spirits. Elizabeth believed that a husband would immediately make her into a proper woman, but clearly didn't know the young lady well enough. Bridget was not the type to be 'tamed' by any man. "Thank you, Your Grace." She dearly wanted to add on that it was an unfortunate thing, to be the grandchild of such a stuffy, overbearing woman, but didn't - Elizabeth did mean well, even if she could be horrid at times; like when Bridget had first arrived and Elizabeth had ordered several maids to scrub her down until her skin was red and aching. To this day the stern, matronly woman was never convinced that Bridget was clean enough.

Unsure of how to respond to his suggestion that she had some hidden knack for picking out horses, Bridget only ducked her head in response. Many women in her position might have tried flirting, or would have been overcome by heated blushing. But alas, no one accused Bridget of being anywhere near most women - and she honestly didn't see what the big fuss was about, in the first place. Richard was a handsome man, form his fine clothes to his lovely smile, but she had no desire to be caught up with men and their plans. Richard and men like him only meant being forever snared in politics, in dressing properly, in doing everything exactly as you were supposed to... it was a horrid idea. Even the mitress of such a man would have to hold to some ideals, and this was not something Bridget agreed with at all.

Following now, almost without thinking - he may not have been the duke himself, but Bridget wasn't about to deny his request, especially if it meant getting closer to the gelding she'd admired. He was a beautiful creature, all swirled in silver. As the groom brushed away the flecks of dirt on his legs and underbelly Bridget shifted closer, admiration clearly in her eyes; a fine horse indeed. Richard was patting him lightly, studying his new purchase, but Bridget stood back slightly out of politeness. After all, this was not her horse and he might not approve of her getting too close. True, he'd asked her to follow, but that meant very little. Men had the strangest little qualms about everything, and he might have asked her to come just to show off the fancy new item in his collection. Bridget didn't believe it, but tried to for her own sake. If she stopped thinking all men cared about was plotting and climbing higher, that perhaps they were capable of friendship, then she'd certainly need a new hobby.

He had always been very on point to being precise in most aspects of his life, and this was no different of a case. He had identified himself, friendly enough was their first words, but he had also instituted his authority and ordered her to join him after so quickly identifying himself as if it was nothing. Oh, but it was, and as other ladies and gentlemen watched him, of the various social scales currently present, they focused just as much attention on the woman as well. Their eyes on him and the woman did not matter to him whatsoever, he was allowed to mingle and chat with whoever he wanted, and if that was an issue to them so be it. Of course, his attention was so much more focused on the gelding anyways that he did not even think for a moment about who might be watching. His guards were around and they were watching close enough for him, knowing that he could always be a target for attack or assassination for some many varying reasons.

As he gave his full attention to the gelding Richard had already nearly forgotten he had asked the young noblewoman to join him. And, though he had she had chosen not to approach as he had so asked her to. Turning to look at her he gave a smile her way, waving her over. "Come, you may join me. He is a very strong horse, I can tell, he will allow you to ride like the wind," he said, giving attention back to the horse, not smiling or making a further point that he had said how she would ride like the wind upon him. But, his words had to sit differently with her than they did he, for he knew about her love of horses, in fact, he knew much more about this young noblewoman than she realized, or her grandmother as well. Richard was not your average noble, he had such extensive networks of information and research of nobles of his duchy and nearby duchies linked to his own, that he knew all rumors and interests of them; these were interests that many times went against what was right to being a 'good' noble in general, and especially being a good harlestonian. He was one of those 'bad' nobles as far as norms were concerned, and from what he learned, Lady Bridget fit that mold as well.

"So Bridget, what shall his name be?" Walking around the horse continuing to check out his new purchase he looked over at Bridget, wondering if she was following anything he was saying, and asking her with all the sensations and realizations she was getting. He had not even asked the biggest question of her yet, he knew her grandmother well, and knew asking them both to visit court, where he would quite likely ask Bridget to join court, was not going to go over well with Elizabeth, but he knew not how Bridget would react.

In the inner parts of her mind, Bridget was aware that this was not just a friendly encounter - anything done with a duke, or a duke's brother, was carefully weighed and measured by all present. It was a delicate dance to be handled with grace and beauty... and sadly, Bridget lacked said grace at times. Her method was not to delicately dance along the balance with ease and perfection, but instead to bumble in and speak her mind. Hence her broken engagement to that blasted Count. Instead of being polite and kind, ducking any binding words with coyness, she'd just gone out and been unforgivably rude. And so what? Being subtle was so exhausting, she didn't know how anyone could stand such things. Even when she tried, like now, to be a good little courtier blessed with manners, it was positively draining. She usually could only spend several minutes behaving before she gave up and was herself. Doing that was probably not the best option for her, especially because the man she was speaking with was the duke's brother - and trouble or not, she doubted he'd approve if he realized how outspoken Lady Bridget could be.

As he lost himself in the everyday motions, Bridget only watched, her patience and capability for holding her tongue dwindling with each moment that passed by. A few guards eyed her warily, as if she might at any moment procure a dagger to stab their charge with, but Bridget ignored them; mostly because the idea that they were more worried about her charming the duke than harming him bothered the girl. For the most part the crowd seemed to have lost interest, but that was also never the case and she knew it well. If one watched closely enough they would catch the brief glimpses shot at Bridget, the gelding, and Richard. No doubt they were wondering if she was to become his new mistress, or gossiping about the oddness of seeing a Marcheford woman, her eyes lined in kohl, speaking to the duke without her cheeks flaming red or a chaperone present - her age was obvious, and that probably fueled the fire. You know, if I had any cares about my reputation I'd would do that right thing and leave as soon as politeness allowed. And then Richard was waving her over, and her smile seemed to grow. Good thing I don't care.

"Then perhaps I have a talent for such things after all, Your Grace." Without hesitation, Bridget had moved in, her movements slow and sure so as not to startle the gelding, though he seemed a solid enough horse with little fear. Slender hands ran along his neck lightly, and with each moment Bridget seemed more and more at ease; a strange woman indeed, to seem more interested in a horse than the handsome man beside her, but again, need it be repeated that strange was her very nature? Bridget didn't ask him the newest question on her lips, if she would truly be permitted to go riding again on such a fine horse, for he almost certainly was expecting it. And since he'd made a comment of her love of riding, or so it seemed, anyway, Bridget was wondering if he knew more about her than he let on. Elizabeth was a terrible gossip, after all, and it would not take much to have her spilling out every little detail about her pretty, unusual grand-daughter who'd ruined herself by refusing a perfectly good match. To Elizabeth, that was practically the end of the world, seeing a woman dare to refuse an offer of marriage to a man of higher standing than herself and her father. It was practically blasphemy!

She could have gigled at that; a bad Harleston, that was indeed what Bridget could be classified as. As she continued to pet the horse, she almost forgot that Richard was there - her dreamland was beckoning again, threatening to occupy her for hours with just a hint that she may be able to ride this gentle creature. What kept her imagination at bay was the thought that there might be some strings attached to such an offer - that her supposed freedom would be opening the door to her cage only to place her in another. She didn't like that thought, not in the least. It was better to keep her wits about her until she was sure of Richard's intentions. So far, she had not noticed any stirrings of lust for her at all - and was very pleased with that reaction. But he could just be very good at hiding such thoughts; one never knew, especially with the rumors swirling around him. All pretense gone from her now, tired of pretending that she was a 'well-behaved' young lady, Bridget just spoke her mind. "His name will be Stranger," She paused, regarding Richard levelly with her strange green eyes. "Because, Your Grace, you are behaving stranger and stranger with each passing minute, and it's starting to make my head ache. You're supposed to be a playboy, not a riddler." Nearby, someone gasped.

Can it be mentioned again that Bridget lacked any and all eloquence?

Richard always knew where Bridget was, but he certainly did not focus his attention on her as he would have most women in different circumstances. However, his lack of attention did not matter with those who watched him for just the mere proximity and first encounter had brought about enough questions for them to ponder about and discuss amongst one another. It was only inevitable though for him to be at the center of most conversations, as he was most certain was the most dicussed subject in Harleston, rivaling that of the issues of all of Adesia and whatever else. Richard was the second in line to the duchy of Harleston for the duke had no son as of now and there were no rivals, at least vocal or popular, that he knew about. And so, it was only rightly so that he was so scrutinized, even if he felt they focused far too much on his personal affairs rather than his public positions and whatnot. His knights and those who served in the army of Harleston likely discussed such things behind his back as well, but they had seen all too much his ability with a weapon. He was not pushover with the sword, nor was he with war and diplomacy.

Listening to her praise he paid it all little attention as well as he continued to inspect the horse, to ensure it was proper in all ways. He needed another good horse, a strong horse, to make its presence known among the others, but a gelding was likely never going to stand up against the stallions. The mares of his lot, into the lead mare, would likely pay little attention to such a creature. But, geldings were often the most loyal and unlikely to get into fits and such, and so he knew it would be a good beast to ride, for either himself or Bridget. Stranger? What an odd name he thought as he looked over at her, her green eyes looking back into his own blue ones. Surely he wished he would have said something there, or drawn closer so she wouldn't have spoken so loud, for what she ended up saying certainly wasn't very smart or intelligent of her. There was dead silence as she had spoken, referring to him and his attitude as strange, and linking him to a gelding horse, a castrated male. The implications and such were dangerous, add on top of that how she referred to his playboy nature.

A nearby gasp broke the silence though as Richard looked at her, nearly beside himself to say a thing. Richard could not help to be drawn to a smile though, and he even laughed a bit, despite the insult, even if she really did not mean it so incredibly harshly as it could easily have been taken. "My my Lady Bridget, I do apologize for making your head hurt," he said as he came around the horse and drew a bit close to her, standing next to her. "But, to give the horse a name, a castrated horse at that, linked to your opinion of my behavior was very bold of you, though incredibly stupid. I suppose I shall name the next horse I purchase Stupid, as it is surely your behavior as of now. Now I know why you were sent to live with your grandmother." He came off a bit hostile and did mock her personality and the reason why she had been sent to live with her grandmother due to her own stupid behavior, but he did not truly mean to be hostile or mock her in the least bit. However, what she had said was very dumb, very bold, very dangerous to mock a Duke's brother.

He leaned in closer, with a very emotionless look about him. "I do like the name though," he said, quickly drawing into a smile, a delighted look in his eyes and face. "I took no offense, but in public you should really watch what you say.

Just then, he saw Lady Elizabeth Petham in the distance looking around in all a worry for her granddaughter. "It seem you have your grandmother looking for you, I figured the fact you were alone was likely due to you running off. She isn't going to be happy is she?" He smiled, and watched her, she wasn't alone, she had been accompanied by town sentries who had directed her to their location.

OOC: Hope you don't mind the bit of using your own NPC, had to end my post with a clear direction somewhere...lol

Being gossip fodder wans't a new role for Bridget, and though she disliked that it would be a romantic role they cast her in, today at least (Tomorrow would surely off better prospects than a silly Marcheford girl, after all), it was only a temporary state. Someone was always causing some sort of scene, and all too quickly the crowd would move on from her and focus on other things. Richard would never have that luxury, being of such high birth, and Bridget didn't envy him in the slightest. He could have a whole stable full of horses, but he'd never get a moment of peace where someone wasn't watching him with a critical eye. That, like behaving, must also be terribly, terribly exhausting - being good at everything. She didn't even want to think about how miserably she'd fail if one had ever put such a position over her head; it was almost a good thing she had no tact then, Bridget supposed, because it kept that from happening. Nobody wanted a rude little wife at his side, after all. Especially one that went about saying things like the duke's brother was a strange playboy with a gelded horse - it didn't exactly make her scream 'wife material'.

Raising an eyebrow, Bridget was slowly comprehending that she'd just said something very stupid. It was ironic really, that she was a bright girl that managed to get herself in the worst of social situations. She just couldn't help but say the things on her mind, even if it was a social nightmare. Too be fair she hadn't meant to insult him, only to articulate that he really was being confusing. A more apt woman, perhaps something Bridget would eventually grow into, could have coyly hinted at it, or whispered into his ear. But not her, she just opened her mouth. "I think confusing me has been your intention all along." This was muttered under her breath - learning that her tone ought to be regulated if she wasn't going to be the nice young lady she was supposed to be. Her expression was a slightly sulky one as he approached, a remnant of her childhood that had not yet been erased. It reminded one that she was still, in many ways, very young for her age. Bridget never had time to grow up, or be a normal little girl. First she was her mother's living doll, and then her father's stepping stone. It left little time to simply be Bridget, and that mistake made itself known daily with her actions.

Instead of being offended, she had to laugh. It had been very stupid. "Please, forgive me, Your Grace, at the best of times I am the worst at saying what it is I mean. Perhaps you should name the next horse Blockhead instead, much more fitting to my blunder." She shook her head lightly, unaware of her slowly approaching grandmother in the foreground. "And no, my reasons for being here are even worse." By now, it had gone around the mingling group that Lady Bridget had in fact broken a very steady engagement to a man above her standing, but she didn't much notice. Bridget assumed that anyone in her position would have acted the same way - when faced with living with a man who thought you were "cute" and "spirited" and proceeded to explain that you behaved like a terrier he had as a boy... one tended to get a little heated.

When he leaned in, a slight moment of panic flared up, lighting in her eyes like a doe in the lamplight. But of course, it was only her fearing capture again, an illusive bird forever desiring to avoid it's stalker. Bridget, calm down. He's just trying to keep the crowd from overhearing everything we say, unlike you. "I'll try, but sometimes, as my grandmother says, I ought to just have my mouth gagged if I'm to be taken anywhere; I'm too offensive for my own good." Elizabeth, seeing at that moment Richard leaning into her poor, confused soul of a grand daughter, immediately dove through the crowd, hoping to save what little reputation the child had. Before she was within range, Bridget only smiled wearily. "No, not in the slightest bit." Eyes flickered to him, showing her amusement though her face hid it well. "Thankfully she's more eloquent than I ever will be, or else we Pentham's couldn't be seen in public after the scolding she'd give me."

Elizabeth stepped forward now, immediately going to Bridget and putting an arm around the girls shoulders. Worry creased her face, though she missed Bridget's twinkling eyes, then something else might have been shown in the elderly woman's face and it wouldn't have been very fitting for a Lady. "Your Grace," Releasing Bridget briefly to show her respects, Elizabeth instantly had her arm around Bridget again. "Thank you for watching my dear granddaughter. She's very new here, and must have gotten lost in the crowd." She smiled, unaware of the little scene Bridget had caused - and probably happier not knowing. "I trust she has been kind enough to speak, she's so terribly shy at times. How ever may I thank you?" Bridget continued to do her best to keep her face serene, but it was evident that she was not terribly practiced when it came to hiding her emotions. In many ways, Bridget was no more than an unpolished child, the politics and glamor of court not touching her strange, idealistic opinions. It made her refreshing at times, to see the world through her child's eyes, and at the same time almost depressing. To think, at one point every murderer, rapist, and high noble must have thought like her at one point, only to be brutally crusehd by society into the role they were expected to fill.

[No trouble at all ^^]

The two still remained fairly close to one another, Richard surely doing so to not allow her to say something not correct for a Harleston society where there were many non-noble ears listening in on everything and anything said. As he stood close by her, watching her with a bit of a smile on his face, since his face was hidden from anyone but them both due to the shield of the horse, he knew exactly why she had in the end been sent to live in Harleston. Well, that wasn't necessarily true, granted he knew her father wanted her gone, sent elsewhere, but why to Harleston? She didn't exactly follow customs, she couldn't even mind her tongue, and Harleston types, especially the church, were the most critical of every aspect of the life of its citizens, and the lives and attitudes of its nobles. Not even Richard was fully above it, of course he had always greater liberties than that of most others for who he was, but he had not full immunity. More than once had he received attention from the church who had spoken to him at length about a moral, pious life and all that similiar talk.

Richard still, of course, considered him a religious individual for his willingness to fall to his knees begging for forgiveness and following the majority of laws. All the other stuff he failed with he tried to make up for it in other realms, and thus, he always remained with a clear conscious. He smiled again as she responded, a little laugh before doing so, Blockhead was a bit of an odd name, but he was glad she could jest just as much as he. He was tired of nobles being far too serious all the time, though loose lips did sink ships, that he knew all too well through all his studies of history. But, then again he was not talking to her in public, or anyone for that matter, secrets of the duchy and classified, top secret material. As he was already leaning in, having told her he meant no offense, he responded again after she had brought her apologies out again, and spoke of the need for being gagged in public. "Women are at their best when they speak openly, even if they say not what they always mean," he said with a weak, a very radical opinion for a man with a position and upbringing such as his own, a patriarch society. The fact was he had not always been raised in his own duchy, in fact he had travelled throughout all Adesia and had wined and dined among many cultures, commoners, even gypsies.

Looking down at her again he smiled as she spoke of her grandmother, knowing her grandmother well enough, and turned just in time as Elizabeth came from around the horse and wrapped her arm around Bridget. The woman was very well mannered, as society allowed, as was customary, and he knew that well enough. If there was one thing he did not do, he did not show disrespect to the older nobles, especially not the women. In his society the female nobles very rarely held power and thus he very rarely had to spar with internal and external issues with them. Plus, being kind to the mothers and grandmothers had always in the past allowed him closer to their daughters and granddaughters, even though they knew his extracurricular pursuits. This woman was different though, Elizabeth was in a class of her own. But, he wanted to have some fun, even if he did not look at Bridget in such a way, though already he was beginning to enjoy her company and spirit about her, it was certainly refreshing. Plus, he had to admit she was a very beautiful younger woman.

Bowing his head in respect to Lady Elizabeth he raised it as she spoke in thanks to his care and watchful eye over Bridget. That hadn't been the case, she had made a scene and caused a bit of chatter amongst those who had overheard them and had already passed it on. But, he did not want to bring the rest of Bridget's day to a scolding after scolding back at the Lady's estate. Shy? Certainly she had not. "Oh yes, she has spoken very eloquently, a very well versed young woman she is. It is most fortunate that her shyness played no factor in my ability to greet and speak with a new member of the Harleston court, as I learned she will be living with you now." Richard always had to keep a smile hidden, nor did he even look at Bridget as he addressed Elizabeth, but Bridget knew he was lying, badly so. Humorous it should have been to her. "Thanks are not truly necessary," he said, but he knew the woman had opened to him an opportunity she could not deny. "But, if you should so honor me, I would like for you both to visit Edythen Manor as soon as you are able. Lady Bridget, as a visitor and hopefully a lengthy addition to the Harleston duchy, is invited to visit Court."

Shifting his eyes from Lady Elizabeth to Lady Bridget he smiled, his dark blue eyes mesmerizing as he smiled, a nod of his head signifying his approval of her addition to Harleston, and to his enjoyment of their conversation cut far too short.

Bridget's reason for being in Harleston wasn't a terribly good one, though her father was convinced it had been the best thing for her. The reason? It was the only duchy housing relatives of the Pentham family close enough to care about the child's reputation and how it would marr their own if she'd been left to her own devices. Christopher too, believed that such a pious place, so devouted to goodness, would see whatever evil had ensnared his daughter and would somehow cure it; making her useful to him again. Yes, Christopher still hoped she would one day become a meek, pliable woman like her departed mother had once been. He wanted a daughter he wouldn't have to manipulate, who would just do as he asked because he was her father. But the man was obviously very mistaken about many things. If anything, Harleston was the WORST choice for Bridget. He could have made some effort to get her accepted in the Pemberton court - it might have cost him, but she would have at least been more comfortable, without her words causing so much distress given Pemberton's less stern public opinions. Who knew, perhaps Christopher had simply been vengeful when making his choice - heated and deciding his daughter had no hope left for her.

While the headstrong Bridget couldn't claim that she was a very devout, religious woman, she had a good deal of respect for the church. It was the only reason she hadn't fled her father in the first place, donning men's trousers for a life of freedom and adventure - the church had greatly advised her against it, telling her she needed to serve her family as best as she was able, and to pray for forgiveness and a silent tongue. She smiled to herself, thinking about the shock they'd felt when she expressed interest in becoming a pirate when she was merely twelve years of age. When he spoke, she'd wanted to say that her father would be proud to hear she was always at her best then, speaking openly very consistantly no matter what punishments it led to. But with Elizabeth there, Bridget was not about to draw more attention to the fact that she'd run off to do a little exploring; she felt a little guilty seeing her maid, Violetta, carrying a box that must contain her new slippers. Even after her misconduct, Elizabeth would still allow her to have them, if only for the sake of keeping up appearances.

Richard was very right in believing Elizabeth to be different from th emothers and grandmothers who allowed their female relations to be compromised because of his polite nature toward them. No matter how kind he was to her, even with the gesture of respect he gave to her - more than a lower lady deserved - she would not even have considered allowing such a thing to go on. Likely, she wouldn't have even left them alone in the same house together... being in the same duchy was close enough as far as Elizabeth was concerned. She couldn't see what Bridget did - that Richard wasn't after the outspoken Marcheford girl. Bridget could already tell from the death grip Elizabeth had on her that she would never have such a chance to wander off again; she'd be watched like a hawk for 'her own good'. The brunette would give her grandmother credit though, she certainly knew how to play the game. Instead of accusing Bridget of anything, she made her lack of a chaperone an innocent thing, her being with Richard for safety alone. It was the only card she had, and the woman used it wisely.

Saying Bridget was shy, of course, was just a wish. Bridget had never been shy, and never would be. It was probably wrong, since a shy, demure girl was what society tended to desire - but society would have to suffer, for Bridget was too bright and curious to keep her eyes on the ground, her hands clasped before her respectfully. The whole of society would have to be happy with the idea that Bridget didn't blatantly disrespect everything she knew to be considered proper... like holding in the wave of giggles she so wanted to fall into, more so when Richard actually said she was eloquent. Bridget, a well versed young woman? The very idea was a joke, and Elizabeth probably knew this though she gave no signs of reading his lie. "Yes, Your Grace, she will be staying with me until a suitable match presents itself." This only caused a scowl to appear on Bridget's elfin face, and she had to force herself to remain silent and calm: this was all another part of the game they all played, and with Elizabeth near, Bridget had to do her best not to mess things up.

The elderly woman's eyes briefly showed how much she disliked the idea, and her understanding that she wouldn't deny him. It was a pained expression, as if he'd just publicly declared he would sodomize the young noble; it was dramatic, but very fitting to the woman in question. Not seeing her grandmother's look, Bridget only waited for the coming reply - already knowing the answer, but curious if Elizabeth would surprise her. After the mornings lectures, the Marcheford girl knew that the idea of visiting Richard, of Bridget being 'alone' with him again and 'helpless' to his seductions would mortify the woman. But what could she do? He was the duke's brother, and one did not publicly deny him, you just didn't. "I am honored, Your Grace, by your offer." She paused, clearly torn and glancing at Bridget. "And we would be most happy to accept." She gulped, and Bridget smiled. Perhaps I'll escape the suffocating world of marriage and men after all? It was evident by her expression that he was very much in her favor, for offering a way to escape - not that he could know that, of course. No one could have known that at that moment the pretty Bridget was scheming for a way to be rid of men forever.