It was late afternoon, almost night, when Theodora arrived at the House. It was the perfect hour: there weren’t many people yet so she could pass discreetly. Hoping to go unnoticed would be pointless for there were others like her who had already arrived to prepare for a night of revel. But none knew who she was, and the hooded cloak she wore over her face hid her identity as securely as a mask.
Theodora had convinced her parents she was spending the night with friends in town and that she wouldn’t come home. After much hesitation, she’d asked for Catherine Thornhill’s help whom she knew wouldn’t betray her confidence. Of course she couldn’t tell the young lady what her evening would be made of, her friend would have taken offence but still… so while they were enjoying some scones and marmalade with their tea earlier, she’d asked the Earl’s daughter to lend some credibility to her tale.
Catherine commented lightly on the thrill of the mystery but thankfully asked no further question; she was perfectly willing to explain the both of them had enjoyed an evening at the Museum where few of their acquaintances would be tonight with the orchestra performing a new creation by one of the Masters. Catherine was perfectly happy not to go for the crowd would be overwhelming. She even banished Theodora’s concerns that maybe she would indeed prefer an evening at the Symphony rather than at the Museum.
“Whatever you happen to be doing my dear, ensure you are not seen.”
“Of course.” Theodora had retorted rather petulantly, which caused her friend to laugh.
Still she knew Catherine had a point; she was a tall woman and though she wasn’t necessarily the most imposing in the House, some might recognize her, as did the Commander. As she rode in one of the nondescript grey carriages that roamed town and allowed anyone travelling to do so anonymously she let her thoughts wander to the handsome, untamed officer who had so brashly and openly challenged her.
She wondered if the Commander would come, as he seemed to promise at the ball. She wondered what attire in her wardrobe she should favour tonight: something revealing that she would forbid him to touch? Or something demure? No… If indeed he came, she wanted to wear something that might entice him yet relinquish nothing. If indeed he came she intended to curb his challenging and domineering attitude. If indeed he came she hoped it would kill her curiosity for a man whose heroics and fame fascinated her in the most unwelcome sort of way. It would be good for her to see the man behind the hero; and he was obviously interested in allowing her to glance at himself at his most vulnerable. If there was anything vulnerable in him at all… Maybe tonight would tell.
In response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s wordle prompt #152
1. Lightly 2. House 3. Petulant (adj.)) 4. Liberosis ((n.) the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.) 5. Tall 6. Banish 7. Officer 8. Afternoon 9. Kill 10. Marmalade 11. Wardrobe 12. Attitude
And in response to the Daily Post writing prompt Gray