FashionShowPreparationsHaroldDecumaMaunA Fashion Show. How in the world he had got sucked into going to a fashion show, Harold still wasn't quite sure. Still, it was what was best for Tremontaine, and perhaps Maun itself, to be seen there, to make an appearance, and impression. Harold thought all of this as he stared at the full length mirror. There was still a little time before he took the cab to pick up his date for the evening, as he uncharacteristically tugged at buttons and fingers plucked at his sleeves. He wanted to look *good*, more than relying on charm and appearance, but actually cut a figure that was worthy of his position. After a minute of admiration in the mirror, and last minute primping, Harry headed out of his quarters and down to the entrance. He trusted the carriage to be waiting for him, on time and smiled as he discovered that was the case. A few words to the driver, and Harry boarded, sitting back with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as the carriage made its way toward, and eventually came in front of a certain flat in the city... The door was opened almost immediately, and a neat figure in a coat of soft grey came down the steps. Demure and discreet - as Sasha Matisse's outward appearance always was. Only her eyes, the luminous green blue, betrayed something of the depths within. She walked swiftly to the carriage, but hesitated there. "Are you sure that this will be all right?" she asked. From the open door of the carriage, Harry noticed the hesitation in Sasha, and responded by coming forward and halfway out of the carriage, with open hands. "There's a saying back on Earth, on an island called England." Harry said with a smile. "In for a penny, in for a pound. Of course, the expression is meaningless, since England doesn't use pennies or pounds anymore." Harry leaned a little more forward and offered Sasha his hands. She grasped them in her own gloved hands and sprang lightly into the carriage. "If my future Duke commands me," she said mischeviously - and then she took off her bonnet and shook her dark curls out. "But will your family be there?" "Many people are going to be there." Harold admitted. "I hope my brother, the other possibility for the Dukedom, won't be. But its occurred to me that he might put in an appearance, because so many influential people are going to be." "It's a little late, and I should have asked you the night I came to you, but..." Harold hesitated. "Do you have a problem being Seen?" he asked quietly, and gave Sasha time to answer by tapping the roof to indicate to the driver to proceed to the Nest. Sasha hesitated. Being seen ... Her family was far away in Torre. The chances of them ever seeing the Aquilan broadsheets were remote. The College authorities, on the other hand, were another matter. But it was vacation and she was living in her apartment, not at the College. Surely they couldn't object to a decorous visit to a fashion show? "No," she said at last. "No ... not like this. If you are sure your family won't object." Harold noticed the hesitation, and drew his hand to cover hers as she finally responded. "My life is so much like a shoe being cobbled by others, I deserve a few choices of mine own." Harry finally said. He paused and then continued. "On a recent boat trip my family and I took, Father finally did the inevitable and began to mention martial possibilities, although Mother thought it premature." Harold said, watching Sasha carefully. Sasha felt a sudden choking sensation in her throat. No ... she should have expected this. It was, after all, what had happened to her mother. Cits ... they were amusing dalliances for the young nobles. But marriages were contracts, were matters of policy and arrangement. And Sasha had hardly gone into this with her eyes shut ... She forced herself to speak lightly. "And has any particular young lady been chosen for you? Might she not feel a little ... dicommoded to discover that you're escorting me to the fashion show?" Harold looked at her sympathetically. Sure, she was a cit, but he was his father's son. His birth father's son. And yet there was a bond and connection between him and Sasha. It was unmistakable and undeniable. "No choice has been made, but Lord Tremontaine has mused over thoughts of uniting Maun with Acciaio." Harold said quietly. "My mother does not overlike the idea of me being married off in a political manner so abruptly but we agreed to throw a party where I could meet eligible young women from Major and Minor Houses. And Alex, too." Categories: GalacticRenaissance |
