Edmund was nervous, and that was a rather new emotion for the minor lord. In fact, he had had quite a few startling realizations within the past couple weeks, all of which had manifested themselves on the night of the masquerade. It was during that time he danced with an angel. An ivory-clad lady of steadfast virtue, she had pulled him in and he hadn't done anything but become mesmerized by her very essence.
They had promised to meet, reveal their true identities on this very evening after supper. Just a short hour ago, he had dressed carefully, knowing Gibbs had promptly readied his freshly pressed shirt. The green satin material matched his eyes well, long sleeves ending with stylish ruffle. He also wore his best pants and newly scrubbed boots. His manservant, Gibbs, had surely been busy, first fetching the trinket his lord had demanded him to do earlier in the week and then hurriedly preparing Edmund's clothes in time. Edmund hadn't been much help. In fact, he had been almost downright intolerable, barking orders and causing Gibbs to scurry madly about. The poor lad was a clumsy one and when he had accidentally knocked over the pot of simmering water, Edmund had all but thrown him in it. The lord relented though when the frightened boy stuttered so badly, Edmund feared his teeth would fall completely out of his mouth.
Now Lord Edmund silently mused to himself, realizing how monstrous he had behaved. He and Gibbs didn't share much of a relationship. Edmund simply gave him a lost of tasks to be finished then left the servant to his own errands. In their few years together, it had worked. Gibbs left him alone and Edmund never questioned the boy about his whereabouts. It was an odd way of living with someone but both accepted the other without much complaint. Pulling forth the wrapped gift now, Edmund ran his finger over it's plain paper. Inside was the double-strand choker he had brought to present, letting known his strong interest in her. He had mesmerized it; larger pearls encircled by a fine thread of gold, traces of diamond chips faintly seen between each, the smaller pearl that tapered from the front. It tied closed with a burgundy colored ribbon. Edmund liked it. It was not too glittery yet it carried an air of dignity, grace... the same overwhelming aura he had revelled in during his dance with this mystery lady. Her innocence, her naivete... just the barest whisper of something else, something bolder. Lord Edmund had dreamt of her, waken to find his bed empty and his mind clouded with memory. Never had he been so fixated, so consumed. She beckoned to him without even being aware of the power she held. Edmund was enchanted, quickly falling for the striking woman he was to meet tonight...

His feet walked carefully upon the cobble stones, his shirt misted by several fountains. He hadn't shaved, his usual stubbled chin adding mask to his shadowed gaze. He saw the largest rosebush ahead, its thick stems adorned with thorns and then bursting into vibrant scarlet folds. His hand briefly settled atop the pummel of his sword, as if he sought reassurance from his trusted weapon. Not that he would need it, but it was the only long-familiar item he could draw strength from. What if she doesn't come? Edmund closed his eyes, blinking away the worry. Better to remain hopeful. He wondered if she would pass him by, either in disappointment or honest lack of recognition. He was dressed differently, his face void of any disguise. Edmund prayed she would remember him, see the same joy and trust she had given previously. Edmund bowed his head slightly as he neared the thickly scented roses. He saw a bench in close proximity but chose to remain standing, his arms casually bent so that one hand rested against his hip and the other dangled downwards. Lord Edmund heard distant music, his mind screaming for concentration but it was hopeless. He felt as jittery as a hare, his shoulders aching from the tightness that spread across them. He half-paced, murmuring inaudibly as he prayed she would soon arrive.

This was it... here Fate would intervene.

Pale yellow silk rustled with Rebecca's every anxious motion. Terrified was too strong a word, but there was definitely a certain amount of fear within her as she neared her destination. Oh, the fear was not of him who she was to meet. Rebecca trusted too soon and too deeply to have any concern over this Lord. It was herself, her own failings, and, to put it plainly, rejection that made her usual grace less refined. What if he did not like her without the magic of the masquerade? What if he did not find her beautiful without the mask? Assuming, of course, that he had found her attractive at all which Rebecca found less and less convincing as the fortnight had drawn on.

Her heart was fluttering with these fears and anticipation. Almost unable to stand the tension, Rebecca slowed as she neared the meeting point, sitting for a moment on a bench not within sight of it. There, she tried to collect herself in order to make a good impression. Though her pulse continued to hammer, taking a few deep breaths helped to calm her mind. Rebecca knew she could just be herself and pray that that was enough. This thought did not stop the doubts, but it held them enough at bay that she no longer considered retreating.

The entire fortnight she had watched those around her, trying to pick out the man who had so easily taken a hold of her. Taken my heart, she amended, well aware of how overly romantic the idea was. Perhaps it was also a bit of a hyperbole, but Rebecca could not recognize this. All she was aware of was that what she felt for this man did not compare to what she had felt for any other thus far in her life. It was stronger, deeper, and much more overwhelming. For a short time, Rebecca had entertained the thought of talking about this with Rowland. He was, after all, the head of the family, and she valued his advice and support. In the end, she could not. The subject was too near her heart, and Rebecca was terrified he would forbid her from meeting the Lord though it was hardly a rational fear. Of course, if Rowland had asked about the masquerade or what Rebecca had planned to do this evening, she would never have lied, but he had not and did not. Though she was quite used not to being noticed and was always flattered when she was, sometimes Rebecca could not help but wish she meant more to someone.

Standing, Rebecca was certain that she was as ready as she was going to get. Rounding a small curve, her bright eyes taking in the man waiting. Was this him? Was he waiting for her? She could only assume so, and she drank in the sight of him. Recognition of his dark hair and tanned skin swept over her. Those emerald eyes she would never forget would reassure her of everything if only she was close enough. He looked remarkably handsome in his fine clothing, the green looking perfect with his coloring. Suddenly, she wished that she had chosen a more opulent gown. For a brief time, Rebecca had considered the pink gown with diamonds and pearls that she had worn to the barge ride. It was gorgeous, but she also knew it was rather too grand for a garden meeting. Rachel had reassured her that the yellow silk Rebecca had chosen was perfectly acceptable. Truth be told, Rebecca was rather fond of it, since she had sewn it herself, including the small pink rose embroidery along the hem.

Enough stalling, she rebuked herself silently while her hand went up to make sure the loose bun was still in place. Rachel had ensured strands would fall from it framing her face and had told her mistress it was a pleasing look. Rebecca swallowed hard, approaching him fully now. Stopping in front of him, she looked up that long way, searching for recognition on his face and the confirmation that this was indeed him in his eyes. Rebecca was almost certain now, and a smile lit her face with the thought. This was it.

Hopeful, she curtsied, murmuring, "My lord?"

Edmund turned fully towards the gentle voice he had so longed to hear again. Instantly, a warmth entered his eyes as he absorbed her heavenly aura. He knew immediately she was his angel, their masquerade dance prominent in his memory. The pale gown at once was perfect on her, several loose strands of golden hair framing the face Edmund had tried so hard to picture without mask in place. And now, he knew his best daydreams faded in comparison to her natural beauty. He felt humbled, as if he stood in the presence of the queen. She was without a doubt nothing short of a miracle and Lord Edmund bowed deeply in respect, his gaze finding her own.
Perhaps it was then he knew. He felt a stirring within him that never had he experienced before. She was so delicate, so trusting. He needed her, needed that unspoken faith she brought so innocently. Edmund spoke softly, unable to name her but spellbound nonetheless. Right now, he wouldn't have cared if she were a laundry maid for so peaceful did the lord feel with her.

Straightening, his deep baritones rumbled kindly to her. "Dearest Lady, I am honored to meet again. You are beautiful..." He trailed off, wanting at once to have her know it wasn't just some physical attraction that he felt but something concrete. Time is heartless and eventually even beauty fades with age but what she had was so much more. Edmund knew he loved her, knew his heart would forever be captivated by the timeless grace and purity she so unknowingly emitted. How could it be that one could fall so hard in such short time? There was no one else on his mind as he stood beside her, his hand reaching into his pocket to retrieve the wrapped gift he had brought along. He felt nervous suddenly, his fingers shaking slightly as he withdrew the package.

"M'Lady, I beg you to accept this gift from me... Lord Edmund Duncan." He watched her, his gaze searching. The present rested atop his hand, its brown packaging lit with a thin red bow. He would let her take it, praying she would only admire the pearl choker. Edmund had so many questions, so many wonderful thoughts. He noticed her dress's hem, the embroidered roses so carefully stitched. He wondered if she had sewn them, picturing her sitting somewhere perhaps even within the gardens, her hands busily moving, concentration thinning her lips. He wondered alot of things but mainly, he hoped she felt as found as he did.


ooc: This is the closest I could find to what the choker looks like: Necklace

Joy filled her when he turned those powerful eyes towards. Recognition flared, and she was certain he recognized her too. It was amazing. At this moment, Rebecca felt completely safe and protected. Her anxiety disappeared, and all nervous thoughts slipped from her mind. What would happen would happen, and she was just have to trust. Rebecca certainly did that. He was here; he had recognized her; and he had not tried to make an excuse and slip away. For now that was enough, and she felt at peace.

Lord Edmund Duncan, she repeated silently as he spoke, so pleased with learning who he was that the first part of his speech did not penetrate. Edmund, she thought again, knowing it was safe in her mind for such familiarity. Yes, it was a good name, and a surge of tenderness for him swelled in her soul. Rebecca was certain she had never heard that name before, but it was well. That meant that they would have that much more to speak about as they got to know each other. She found herself willing to make excuses to be in his company, and that was both a little humbling and heartening. Am I in love?

His gift surprised her, but pleased her very much. Edmund had been very thoughtful, and though she already respected him very much, he went up a notch in her favor. Rebecca was unused to being thought about when she was not in someone's prescence. Long ago, Rebecca had realized that the person her mother had trained her to be was easily forgotten when the timid creature was not in sight. Truly, Rebecca did not mind most of the time, but it was so very pleasant to have him think of her so. Carefully, she took the package and just held it for a moment.

"Lady Rebecca Ingling thanks you, Lord Edmund," she murmured, blue eyes as clear and deep as the sky. Inwardly, she flinched a little. Her words had sounded a little pompous in her ears though her tone was that of soft devotion and gratitude. Rebecca had just wanted to impart her name, not caring a bit whether he recognized it or not. She wanted him to like her for her, not her family.

There, the anticipation was too much. Rebecca slipped the wrapping off of her gift, and her mouth dropped open just a little at the sight of it. She had never seen anything so beautiful. Perhaps some might take that as an exaggeration, but she did find it to be the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen, and it was all the dearer since it was from Edmund. It could have been just a length of string and a bead, but it still would have been precious because of the giver. Rebecca had never been much for jewels, but pearls were her favorite. Girlish excitement lit up her face. "It is wonderful, Lord Edmund," she lingered on his name, enjoying the taste of it on her lips. "Thank you so very much. Would you-" Rebecca hesitated, almost looking down, but she did not dare take her eyes off his handsome face for fear that he would disappear. A prince of her dreams who would vanish all to soon. Rebecca swallowed hard and gathered up her courage, wondering if she was being too forward. "Would you put it on me?"

He recognized her name immediately, her brother well-known throughout the kingdom. An earl had a way of unknowingly taking notice and Edmund understood at once... her earlier confessions of a strict mother, growing up so proper and controlled. She fit the bill, this lady of his heart. She was indeed a true Lady, one whose essence could brighten any room. Edmund briefly contemplated, wondering what her family would think of his unspoken desire to court her. Standing there with her absolute beaming smile aimed his way however, made it hard to remain worried so the quick feeling of uncertainty flew away almost as soon as it had landed. She had a good, solid name...one that stood in favoritism of the king. Edmund hadn't known who she was nor would he have cared at this point but in the recesses of his mind, he had to admit it was a pleasant surprise.

Watching her expression as she opened his gift, Edmund looked the proud peacock. She liked it, for naught did he think she was capable of falsely saying otherwise. Her radiance was too sincere, those azure eyes so wonderful to behold. As she boldly asked him to place the choker on her, Edmund smiled, fearful to speak for his voice may tremble. He nodded, his fingers only slightly shaking as he took the necklace from her and walked behind her. Reaching his hands outwards, he gently laid the pearled strands down against her creamy skin, his breath softly exhaled against the loose strands of golden hair. He carefully tied the ribbon, his hand then brushing aside a wayward lock, his touch barely there as he finished. Edmund stepped back from her, his gaze full of emotion as he smiled. It seemed he was unable to look away as well, as if she were truly an angel who would take flight at any time.
"They pale in comparison to you, dear Lady Rebecca," he said it quietly, his tone honest. He meant the pearls of course, their smooth texture resting perfectly atop her throat. The fact was everything paled in comparison to Rebecca for she was perfection. He longed to hug her in joyous reunion but curbed such improper thought. Instead he bent to kiss her hand, extending his arm afterwards as he winked. "M'Lady, would you honor me with a stroll through the gardens?" Lord Edmund was so eager to know her better, yearning to hear more of her and discover who the inner Rebecca was, that glimpse of her she hinted of. He was drawn to her, his being held captive just as the flowers were to the sun. He could not glance away, the happiness clearing his sight so that they shined a stunning green void of any darker masses lurking within. Edmund had found his heart, laying there nestled within her own bosom.

Briefly, Rebecca wondered if her request had been a mistake. It was too bold, too forward, and she so desperately wanted his good opinion. His smile was like food to her open heart. Then she could not think at all as he drew near. Her heart sped up at the feel of his warm breath against her skin, and she unconciously held her breath when his fingertips oh so lightly brushed against her hair and skin. Rebecca very nearly gave into the urge to lean back against him, but resisted as she knew she should.

The weight of the necklace against her throat was a comfortable one, and she unthinkingly reached up to touch it even as he complimented her. Sweetly, she thanked him silently with a smile that told the tale of her love and gratitude. Rebecca giggled a little when he kissed her hand, as much if not more charmed by him then as at any point during the masquerade. Though the masks were gone, there was still some mystery, and she was eager to get to know him. Rebecca had found herself wanting to understand the depth of thought and feeling beneath his captivating eyes that had so quickly entranced her.

Carefully, she took his arm, enjoying the warmth of it against her chilled skin. Summer was not long over, but night was drawing on, and silk was not known for keeping one very warm. Rebecca was not cold enough to shiver, but just enough to appreciate the heat of contact. If knowing it was his arm that she was touching warmed her to a greater degree, she did not give it much thought as content as she was just being beside him. It seemed a miracle that an intelligent, handsome man would take any interest in a young, silly thing which was what she thought of herself. Edmund's very being seemed to fill a something within her that she had not known to be empty. It was like that empty space had waited hidden seventeen years only to appear and be completely filled by this Lord. He made her feel complete by just existing with her, though some small part longed for more with an ever increasing voice. The same voice yearned for his touch and wondered in the long nights how the masked lord's arms would feel around her.

"I would love too, my lord," she agreed, her hand lightly brushing away a few wayward strands of hair from her face casually. Unexperienced as she was, Rebecca was unsure of how to start conversation. She wanted to hear all about him, about his family, what he found amusing, what sort of food he liked--everything. "Is my lord going to participate in the upcoming tournament," Rebecca asked curiously, settling on a less intusive first question.

It was so natural, the feel of her hand on his arm. Even the ease with which such simple act was done. Edmund felt as if the entire world could fade away and still he would be standing alongside it for Lady Rebecca was the sun and moon and stars, her trusting smile the light that guided Edmund's sometimes haunted soul. Right then, he felt so peaceful. He smiled as she spoke, watching her mouth formulate the words his ears so loved to hear. It didn't matter what she said for her voice was a sweet melody to the minor lord and he couldn't erase the pleasure his eyes gleamed with had he bothered to try.
He began to walk, his pace casual, unrushed. Edmund had all the time in the world and yet he still had not enough. As her hand rested upon his sleeved arm, he lay his far hand on top of hers, the touch one of tenderness to convey joy. "Yes, Lady Rebecca. I have entered the jousting and the sword-fighting. Will your presence grace the ceremonies?" he asked her curiously. Would she toss her scarf to him as he rode in, flash that amazing grin that seemed borne for his face only? Edmund's smile could not dissipate, imagining the adrenaline that would be coursing through his veins during such time. Edmund knew of the concentration needed for such events and he looked forward to testing his skill. The thought of Rebecca watching him sent a new surge of anticipation. It would be quite an exhausting day but knowing she was there would drive him onward and give him flame to make his fire grow.
He paused to give her time to respond, wishing he could twirl a strand of her golden hair between his fingers. "M'lady, pray tell me which flower is your favorite." There was a handsome variety of petals, some which Edmund could name and others he hadn't the vaguest notion of. He spotted a few different types of daises, brown-eyed susans, and violets. Tulips, lilies, and zinnias. This place was one great harmonious blend of carefully kept petals, whispering fountains, and lingering tones from musical instruments. It was mystical, the slight fog created by the water sprays adding a magical appeal. Lord Edmund was captivated by the enchanting qualities of both his date and the garden itself.

He slowed their stroll moreso as they approached the path's split ways. If they veered left, it was obvious the cobblestones were smooth and immaculate. Unnamed flowers burst alongside the edge, begging notice from human eyes. The path appeared perfect but alas, the end was in sight if one peered close enough. Indeed, the final step would not be too far off and they would have to turn around to continue walking. Edmund then glanced quickly to his right, noticing the crooked path. It seemed to be more hastily done, as if the bends were an afterthought, the stones imperfectly settled in parts. Roses grew as proud sentries surrounded by ivy and white petunias. It was a longer path, its road unending but full of surprises and glimpses of further beauty. For Edmund, it was not an issue of speculation. His feet turned right, his desire for their time together to never end, come what may.

The scent of the garden was wonderful and heady, but not nearly as heady to her senses as Edmund himself. Rebecca was grateful for the slow pace, hoping to prolong her time with him. Time seemed to pass all too quickly while she was with him, though the thought of him in her dreams was some consolation even if they did sometimes make her ache upon waking and finding herself alone. It was worth it.

Innocent pleasure coursed through her when his calloused hand was placed on the top of her soft one. Her eyes glanced down and noted the contrast between his tan skin and her delicacy. She was impressed by the seeming strength he possessed, the work he had obviously done, and his gentleness towards her. Edmund was a man of worth, strength, and intellect, not some weakling lord who only thought of his supper. That was well. He was a man Rebecca could respect, admire, attend . . . love.

A tiny thrill of fear for his safety skittered up her spine when he said he was participating. Rebecca trusted him and would trust to his skill, but she so wanted him to come to no harm. Her mind told her that he would do his best and everything would turn out. Her heart was more confused. Her love and pride in him was confident he would win every bout and do beautifully. The weaker impulse was terrified of the off-chance something could go wrong. It sometimes happened, and Rebecca would rather he be hale and healthy than her visiting him at his sickbed. Pushing those thoughts away while Edmund was at her side, holding her hand on his arm beneath his, was easy. Perhaps worry would poke through the excitement during the tournament, but for now, she trusted and believed in him too completely to entertain her worries for more than a brief moment.

"I will come to the tournament. I look forward to seeing you there, Lord Edmund," she murmured, confidence in him the only evident emotion in her voice. Enthusiasm for the fun of it crept into her countenance. "It should be very exciting. I will cheer for you, my lord." Her confession was shy, but sincere, and she wondered if he would accept her badge that day if she offered it. Would he fight for her? Rebecca would never ask, would never presume, but she could dare to hope that he felt half as much esteem for her as she felt for him.

It was hard for her to pay much attention to the flowers, no matter how beautiful the gardens were. Edmund was consuming. As she walked by him, Rebecca noticed her head indeed fell just at the right place to lay it on his shoulder. It had seemed so at the dance, but that had always seemed so perfect, so ethereal, that she was sure most of her perceptions had been off. "White roses, Lord Edmund," Rebecca answered, grinning as she remembered the masquerade. She decided not to mention her growing fondness for pink roses after he had placed one in her hair. "But I'm also very fond of violets." The uneven path and the slight breeze that blew made her draw closer to his side, enjoying his warmth and relying on him to help her should any stones make her stumble.

"Have you been at Court long, Lord Edmund," asked Rebecca, all her attention on him.