((Continues from Luxurious Ladies ....))
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Royal Oaks was a beautiful house, set deep in a park of its own in an affluent suburb of Chicago, Illinois. Even in the daytime, it was unique, a lovely place to just look at, even without knowing the interior as well as those who lived and worked there did. But on a night like this ....Royal Oaks certain lived up to its name. The ballroom had been draped in rich reds and golds, the many doors opened up onto the wide terrace that was lit with the irridescent sparkle of many fairy lights in a web that wound between the undying rose bushes that wrapped the colonade.
The beauty of classical and contemporary music mingled through the rooms, performed live in the ballroom by a select quartet representing the Chicago Philharmonic Orchestra, and in other rooms by other, smaller groups from the same orchestra. Chicago's elite were there, mingling easily with one another, each of them susceptible in their own way to the eccentric charm of their hostess. No one ever missed one of Lady Cavendish's parties. They were legendary for being quite the best night of any given month. As the evening crept on toward midnight and the hours beyond, Angel finally managed to escape from Peg's clutches, slipping out into the shadows of the wide terrace to hide from the curious and, in some cases, the overly handsy men her employer had been introducing her to all evening. The dress she wore shimmered under the delicate fairy lights, white satin that clung to her torso and flared from her hips despite her request for black. But rather than get Marge in trouble with Peg, Angel had swallowed her irritation and told the darling woman that she had changed her mind.
Peg had opened up her own jewellery box to lay diamonds on her young companion, and had been intimately involved in the careful gathering of Angel's hair half up, off her face, and caught with a crystal barrette. She couldn't deny, she certainly looked the part of the debutante. Angel just hoped she wasn't letting the side down with her lack of scintillating conversation.
As the hours slipped by and the amount of alcohol consumed reached ungodly heights, the money flowed like the champagne in the fountain. The conductor of the Philharmonic, as predicted, was passed out on the living room couch in a drunken stupor. Before he passed out, he expounded to anybody who would listen about Lady Cavendish's generosity. But if the truth were to be known, she threw this party and others like it because she loved being surrounded by happy, laughing people. And the house seemed to overflow with them this evening. Couples danced upon both dance floors, diamonds and precious gems twinkling in the fairy lights. The hours were wearing Peg down, though. The excitement of waiting for the party to start, then the joy of mingling and listening to countless stories that made her giggle with glee, had Peg feeling a little peetered out by the time Angel made her escape onto the terrace. She made her own way upstairs to the relative peace and quiet of her own rooms. In the background, Joshua had been watching and enjoying the party, as well. He was well dressed in his fashionable tuxedo and white bow tie. But when the women went their separate ways, he was a little torn as to which way to go. While intrigued by Angel, he was loyal to Peg. So, to Peg he went first. When he was sure she was settled for the night, he returned to the party, hoping that Angel hadn't wandered too far. He spotted her out on the terrace, still.
Wading through the crowd, he finally found himself in the relative quiet of the terrace. "Some party," he smirked. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he deliberately kept from looking at her head on. His profile was cast in shadow, keeping his identity a secret for now.
Angel hadn't heard anyone come close by, a little startled by the attractive voice that resounded so near in the shadows. She glanced toward the man who had come out into her darker end of the terrace, seeing nothing but a tall, well built darkness of shadow within the greyness around her. "Something is certainly one way to put it," she agreed with a smile. "I hope you've given generously, or Lady Cavendish may hunt you down with her chequebook of charity."
Joshua placed his hands upon the balustrade and leaned against it as he gazed out onto the moonlit grounds below. "She loves the Philharmonic," he commented quietly. "I think everybody here will do anything to keep Lady Cavendish happy." It felt odd to call her that. Peg was Peg and her formal name felt awkward as it rolled across his tongue. He changed the subject then. "Had enough of the dark side of Chicago society?" He meant how she had escaped onto the terrace away from drunk advances and grabby hands. She wasn't the only one; there were cougars by the pack inside.
Angel laughed a little nervously. "I was kinda hoping if I stay out here none of my so-called suitors for the evening will come looking for me before they pass out or, you know, need to have their hips replaced." She leaned a hip against the balustrade, folding her hands on the railing to fidget awkwardly. "Oh, I'm Angel, by the way. Peg's - Lady Cavendish's companion."
"Nice to meet you," he bowed his head slightly towards her politely. "And good plan. You were offered up on a silver platter, as if Lady Cavendish were looking to marry you off." He put his hands into his pockets then and rocked back onto his heels. Decisions, decisions. He'd thought about this moment so often since the disaster that had been their first meeting over a week before and still hadn't figured out just what to do. "Did you find any that you'd consider?"
"God, no." The answer was instantaneous, blurted out before she could consider being tactful. "Or, you know, if you're one of those guys who've been trying to feel me up all night ....maybe?" She snorted with laughter, hiding her face behind her hand for a moment. "Oh, wow, I'm digging a hole."
He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I've not been groping and grabbing. I've been running from my own gropers and grabbers. Didn't think I'd escape that Widow Wilkes. She's quick!"
Angel laughed, suddenly relaxing in the company of a fellow victim. "I know, I saw her chasing some poor guy through the ballroom," she giggled, turning her back to the garden to lean against the balcony beside him, her face cast in soft light from the open doors not so very far away. "I guess that was you, huh?"
"You saw that?" He cringed, embarassed. Then he laughed and caught her turning about out of the corner of his eye. She was lovely and, if he was honest with himself, Peg's match-making was working. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make a scene. Her bony fingers hurt when they pinch! I think I'm going to have bruises for a week!"
"Well, to be honest, you stole my escape route," she grinned, looking up at him through her genuine smile. She wasn't sure why, but she could have sworn she'd met this guy before. She just didn't remember where, or when, or even what he looked like. "You think you're gonna have bruises? You should see the state of my *ss after Mr Forbes and his son were finished dancing with me."
Royal Oaks was a beautiful house, set deep in a park of its own in an affluent suburb of Chicago, Illinois. Even in the daytime, it was unique, a lovely place to just look at, even without knowing the interior as well as those who lived and worked there did. But on a night like this ....Royal Oaks certain lived up to its name. The ballroom had been draped in rich reds and golds, the many doors opened up onto the wide terrace that was lit with the irridescent sparkle of many fairy lights in a web that wound between the undying rose bushes that wrapped the colonade.
The beauty of classical and contemporary music mingled through the rooms, performed live in the ballroom by a select quartet representing the Chicago Philharmonic Orchestra, and in other rooms by other, smaller groups from the same orchestra. Chicago's elite were there, mingling easily with one another, each of them susceptible in their own way to the eccentric charm of their hostess. No one ever missed one of Lady Cavendish's parties. They were legendary for being quite the best night of any given month. As the evening crept on toward midnight and the hours beyond, Angel finally managed to escape from Peg's clutches, slipping out into the shadows of the wide terrace to hide from the curious and, in some cases, the overly handsy men her employer had been introducing her to all evening. The dress she wore shimmered under the delicate fairy lights, white satin that clung to her torso and flared from her hips despite her request for black. But rather than get Marge in trouble with Peg, Angel had swallowed her irritation and told the darling woman that she had changed her mind.
Peg had opened up her own jewellery box to lay diamonds on her young companion, and had been intimately involved in the careful gathering of Angel's hair half up, off her face, and caught with a crystal barrette. She couldn't deny, she certainly looked the part of the debutante. Angel just hoped she wasn't letting the side down with her lack of scintillating conversation.
As the hours slipped by and the amount of alcohol consumed reached ungodly heights, the money flowed like the champagne in the fountain. The conductor of the Philharmonic, as predicted, was passed out on the living room couch in a drunken stupor. Before he passed out, he expounded to anybody who would listen about Lady Cavendish's generosity. But if the truth were to be known, she threw this party and others like it because she loved being surrounded by happy, laughing people. And the house seemed to overflow with them this evening. Couples danced upon both dance floors, diamonds and precious gems twinkling in the fairy lights. The hours were wearing Peg down, though. The excitement of waiting for the party to start, then the joy of mingling and listening to countless stories that made her giggle with glee, had Peg feeling a little peetered out by the time Angel made her escape onto the terrace. She made her own way upstairs to the relative peace and quiet of her own rooms. In the background, Joshua had been watching and enjoying the party, as well. He was well dressed in his fashionable tuxedo and white bow tie. But when the women went their separate ways, he was a little torn as to which way to go. While intrigued by Angel, he was loyal to Peg. So, to Peg he went first. When he was sure she was settled for the night, he returned to the party, hoping that Angel hadn't wandered too far. He spotted her out on the terrace, still.
Wading through the crowd, he finally found himself in the relative quiet of the terrace. "Some party," he smirked. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he deliberately kept from looking at her head on. His profile was cast in shadow, keeping his identity a secret for now.
Angel hadn't heard anyone come close by, a little startled by the attractive voice that resounded so near in the shadows. She glanced toward the man who had come out into her darker end of the terrace, seeing nothing but a tall, well built darkness of shadow within the greyness around her. "Something is certainly one way to put it," she agreed with a smile. "I hope you've given generously, or Lady Cavendish may hunt you down with her chequebook of charity."
Joshua placed his hands upon the balustrade and leaned against it as he gazed out onto the moonlit grounds below. "She loves the Philharmonic," he commented quietly. "I think everybody here will do anything to keep Lady Cavendish happy." It felt odd to call her that. Peg was Peg and her formal name felt awkward as it rolled across his tongue. He changed the subject then. "Had enough of the dark side of Chicago society?" He meant how she had escaped onto the terrace away from drunk advances and grabby hands. She wasn't the only one; there were cougars by the pack inside.
Angel laughed a little nervously. "I was kinda hoping if I stay out here none of my so-called suitors for the evening will come looking for me before they pass out or, you know, need to have their hips replaced." She leaned a hip against the balustrade, folding her hands on the railing to fidget awkwardly. "Oh, I'm Angel, by the way. Peg's - Lady Cavendish's companion."
"Nice to meet you," he bowed his head slightly towards her politely. "And good plan. You were offered up on a silver platter, as if Lady Cavendish were looking to marry you off." He put his hands into his pockets then and rocked back onto his heels. Decisions, decisions. He'd thought about this moment so often since the disaster that had been their first meeting over a week before and still hadn't figured out just what to do. "Did you find any that you'd consider?"
"God, no." The answer was instantaneous, blurted out before she could consider being tactful. "Or, you know, if you're one of those guys who've been trying to feel me up all night ....maybe?" She snorted with laughter, hiding her face behind her hand for a moment. "Oh, wow, I'm digging a hole."
He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I've not been groping and grabbing. I've been running from my own gropers and grabbers. Didn't think I'd escape that Widow Wilkes. She's quick!"
Angel laughed, suddenly relaxing in the company of a fellow victim. "I know, I saw her chasing some poor guy through the ballroom," she giggled, turning her back to the garden to lean against the balcony beside him, her face cast in soft light from the open doors not so very far away. "I guess that was you, huh?"
"You saw that?" He cringed, embarassed. Then he laughed and caught her turning about out of the corner of his eye. She was lovely and, if he was honest with himself, Peg's match-making was working. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make a scene. Her bony fingers hurt when they pinch! I think I'm going to have bruises for a week!"
"Well, to be honest, you stole my escape route," she grinned, looking up at him through her genuine smile. She wasn't sure why, but she could have sworn she'd met this guy before. She just didn't remember where, or when, or even what he looked like. "You think you're gonna have bruises? You should see the state of my *ss after Mr Forbes and his son were finished dancing with me."