Raising the parchment, indicating their new aliases, her gaze lowers to the floor. Pausing for a moment, a gasp of air flows out her mouth, and her shoulders rise. Lifting her head to peer back at him. "Will Lady Davenport be required to dance with her dutiful husband?" She asked sarcastically. Raising her eyes slowly to meet his, a flicker of concern can be seen. Her breast heaving and breathing heavier.
Peering into her eyes, squinting in recognition at her sudden change. "Of course, will that be a problem?" He asked, his head tilted to the right.
Looking deeper into her eyes, she drops her gaze, stepping back a step. Placing her hand on the table and her left hand caressing the dress. A moment goes by before she summons up the courage to speak.
"Um, well the thing is..." She spoke with a soft tone, reluctant to reveal anything further.
Attempting to finish her sentence Sevran interrupts "Do you not know how to dance?" He asked playfully.
His words pierce her sensitive ears, spurring her to rise. The air of embarrassment was palpable and she was on the verge of a blush. Staring back, she desperately attempted to keep her composure. "Well, uh no." She stuttered, her embarrassment achieving greater heights.
Witnessing this Sevran merely smiled, presenting his hand to her. Moving swiftly to the right and side face. He placed the parchment down on the table. "We should remedy that, don't you think?" He stated, holding out the offer.
With his palm gestured, waiting for her to grace it with her own. Expressing her now repetitive eye roll, she placed her hand carefully within his. With their hands intertwined, his gaze peering into her eyes, darting to the right. He directs her to accompany him, leading to the centre of the room.
Turning outwards, their hands clasp one another and their bodies side to side. Slowly they pace forward, reaching their destination. Turning to each other, still, with their clasped hands Sevran spoke. "Now, hold my hand like this." He directed.
He spoke in a low tone of voice, akin to a whisper. His eyes transfixed upon her supple palm, graced within his own. Slowly manoeuvring his palm around and fixing her into position. His palm engulfed her fingers lightly caressing her hand. His head darting to the right, his hand lightly placed on her wrist. Raising her arm and finally placing it on his shoulder.
"Your other hand goes here, on my shoulder." He further stated.
Letting go of her wrist, placing his hand on the small of her back. Grazing and caressing her back, attempting to pull her into his orbit. A slight jolt of energy surged through her body. Pulling her in closer and bringing them face to face.
"Now, when you feel me pulling or pushing in a direction, merely follow along." He stated just before their dance attempt.
Gripping her hand carefully and pulling her waist to his. His eyes fixed on hers as if nothing else existed in the room. His guiding hand leads her forward, and looking back she restrains herself. Glancing to the floor, both moving swiftly. His mass pressed forward, without overwhelming her. His experienced body pulled and pushed her in many directions. Twirling elegantly, his body entuned with hers. She held on as if being cradled in his arms.
A harshness existed in his movement as they turned. Her nerves spiralled as she glanced down at her feet. The moment passes, lifting her gaze to his, now locked to her. With each movement they circled around, weaving from side to side. His hand parts from her back, moving to her hand. With both their arms now raised, she peered down at his feet and then back up to his face. Grasping her left hand, raising it up high to spin her. She twirls around with a dull face, but with every turn, her eyes widen further. Her heart flutters ever faster just as a smile takes form.
Twirling three times before stopping with her back to him. His gaze darts to her palm, slowly caressing her wrist, all the way up to her hand. Releasing her hand and shifting down to her waist, cradling her in his arms. Exhaling a short breath while holding her, his heart beats faster. Anticipation was palpable, his grasp slightly tighter, pulling her to the left. Swaying from left to the right, her smile becoming more prominent. Nodding, her movements became less artificial and more natural, swaying in perfect concert with him.
Swaying, her grasp shyly glides towards the window, twirling around as if floating gracefully on air. Her dress surrounded her like a flower in bloom. A smile progressed to laughter, spinning before stationing herself before him. His eyes were transfixed on her obvious and undeniable joy. Her chuckling smile remains, looking back at her.
"You know after all this time; I have never seen you smile like that before." He comments with a smile.
With glee on her face and an honest smile, she snaps out of her joyful state. Returning to her cold and indifferent expression. Looking back at him, she pauses for a moment, giving her reply. "Well, I hope you had a good long look because." She states that just before her words are suddenly interrupted by a faint banging sound.
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Both their gazes turned to the doorway, the sound reverberating from the bottom level. Returning each other's gaze, Sevran spoke. "Our carriage awaits my lady." His hand reaches forth gesturing hers to clasp with his.
Spurned by the offer, she places her hand within his grasp. Guiding her to the door and shutting it behind them. Interlocking their arms, they slowly descend the stairs. Reaching the bottom, they come upon a well-dressed Jeremiah, standing beside an open door, waiting for their arrival.
Moving past him, they exit the house and descend to the streets. Greeted by a carriage with two brown and white horses. Jeremiah closed the door behind them and guides them to the carriage. Closing the door behind them, they both are seated next to each other. Sevran turns to a nervous Yvette, as she makes herself comfortable.
"Nervous?" Sevran asks with a small grin.
She pauses for a moment, directing her gaze to him. "Not at all." Her chilling demeanour accompanied by a devious smile spurns Sevran to give the carriage roof a light bang. Jeremiah prompted by this raises his whips to spur the horses into action.
A ballroom with many individuals sprawled about, each more opulent than the next. Every single one of them was covered in fine clothes, of cotton and silk. Their necks are graced by fine jewellery, and other ornaments of wealth and status. The ballroom itself is a large wide opened rectangle. Surrounding the sides are small, ignited lamps, illuminating the room. The walls are solid stone, splashed with red, blue and strips of white. The room is twenty metres wide and thirty-five metres in length.
In the centre, are many noblemen and women, gracefully dancing. Moving in a circular motion, as if floating upon unseen clouds, adrift upon the floor. With their fine dresses flailing around and men guiding them across the dance floor. Several are seen sifting through the crowd of pretentious snobs. Their clothes are simple black suits, and their hands hold up metal plates of food.
To the south is an open doorway, several nobles flooding in, as another black-suited servant announces their names as they enter. To the north is an open doorway, leading to a balcony. To the west and east are walls are solid stone without windows. The festivities occur, and soon both Sevran and Yvette arrive through the open doors. To the left are several men dressed in red and blue doublets, brandishing trumpets. To the right, another set of trumpet wielders, beside the announcer.
A short man with golden slicked-back hair, brown eyes and a pale complexion. Approaching to greet his guest's sudden arrival. "My lord, my lady, invitations please." The announcer requests reaching out to accept the proof of their right to attend. Sevran with the invitation grasped in his left hand and places the parchment gently within the man's grasp. Returning to the festivities, he opens the invitation, reading it aloud. "Lord Harold Davenport and Lady Elizabeth Davenport, Baron and Baroness of Towershore!" His voice rings out, followed by trumpets.
The occupants shifted their gazes to the new visitors, clapping in unison. Keeping the pleasantries going for a few seconds, before returning to their dealings. Gazing at the crowd intermingled with each other, like a splendid work of art. Lords and ladies alike drink and feast, and sombre music is carried along by violinists, seated against the rightmost wall.
Moving forward, entering the fray, traversing into a new and glorified world of the aristocracy. Stopping just short of the crowd they avoid entering, turning to the right. Passing several men, women and servants. Reached a large banquet table, draped in a white tablecloth. Silver trays occupied the table with various gourmet food. Making their way to the table's end, with their backs to the eastern wall.
Their arms part and Yvette steps forward, her eyes lingering on the crowd. "I can't see Lord Ecbert anywhere, he might be out on the balcony or perhaps he hasn't arrived yet. What do you think?" Her stern and confident look echoes her intent. Speaking with a soft and low volume, not to arouse suspicion.
Waiting for a reply, the man behind her had no such answer. Turning to the rear, noticing him plucking a prawn from a silver tray. Lifting the prawn, swiftly consuming it ravenously. Piling numerous others in hand, reaching for a champagne glass.
"What are you doing?" Yvette asked.
The frustration in her voice began to rise, turning her entire body to face his. Palming the champagne glass, he paused for a moment. Grabbing a second glass, he nods to her, presenting the bubbly beverage. "Relax and just enjoy yourself... Dear wife." He spoke sarcastically.
Raising the champagne to his lips, with a flick of his wrist, sipped the glass. Twirling the prawns in his hand before lifting one to his mouth, consuming it whole. With the crunching sound of his teeth, demolished the hors d'oeuvres. Yvette's eyes squinted, frowning, her frustration reaching new heights.
Grasping the glass, immediately downed the champagne with one fell swoop. Turning to the left, placing the glass on the table's edge. His gaze widens, tracking her movement from left to right. Returning to her stance, her face exudes annoyance, giving him a piece of her mind. "Enjoy ourselves, don't we have a job to do and why are you stuffing your face with prawns?" She queried, abruptly annoyed.
His face froze, placing the prawns onto the silver tray, situated on the table and to the right. Rubbing his palms together, removing the food particles. His expression quickly turned cold and icy. "I am doing our job, you're the one who is not being professional. But then again the frigid wife look works well on you." Blank and pragmatic, directing his eyes to her. The words flow, and she is taken aback.
"What, I'm not being professional." She replied softly, yet harshly.
Stepping forward, asserting her stance directly upon him. Sevran merely smiled at his stance and position, grasping the champagne glass firmly. "Exactly, you're acting like a woman on a mission. You're going to give the game away before the fun starts. Like any job you must act the part. In this case, act like a pampered noble, engaging in frivolous debauchery, without a care in the world." Still smiling he explained his stance, raising an empty glass. Nodding to his wife, Yvette still reeling from his statement remains annoyed.
The wisdom of his words eventually sank in. Begrudgingly pulling together a smile, and nodding to her husband, she delivers a curtsey. With a mischievous smirk, she lowers her head. "As you wish dear husband." Her false words project to his ears, prompting his smile to remain.
Eventually, a servant arrived, pouring him a further glass of champagne. Filling the glass, he proceeded towards Yvette who grabs her own glass. Filling the glass to the brim, the servant nods, turning away to tend to his other guests. With their refreshments, both Sevran and Yvette pace forward, toasting their glasses.