Chapter Text
Theo
One.
The whispers and stares surrounded Theo like a cloak, choking him and weighing on his shoulders. It was only through years of practice that he didn’t pull at the collar of his suit. No amount of practice could ever make him feel at ease with the burden of duty and expectation, however. Nor could he feel ease with the greed of most of the attendees of this ball. They were all vultures, waiting for the opportune moment to swoop in and take the prize his title offered. Theo’s jaw clenched. How it grated at him. He ignored them all as he ascended the staircase, only making eye contact with the nearest waiter to obtain a glass of champagne. Drink in hand, he found an empty spot by a wall to stand at for as long as politely possible.
It was from his perch that he learned that not all the whispers were about him. There were Americans attending this ball. Rich ones, whose mothers were disappointed with being excluded from their own society, so they decided to forge a new one here in England. Theo wondered if these American mothers forced their daughters to this ball like his own mother did him.
The debutantes made their grand entrance, looking like swans as they descended the staircase in their white ballgowns and feathers in their hair. Jean Hopeleigh caught his eye and smiled. He gave one in return, though he was sure it looked more like a grimace. He didn’t want her to get her hopes up. As he gave a cursory glance over the other ladies as they glided past him, his gaze lingered on one in particular.
Like Jean, she also had dark hair. But unlike Jean, she did not look his way, even though Theo was sure she could feel his eyes on her. Her unwavering gaze remained forward, her head held high. There was almost a regal air about her that Theo had never been able to master, no matter how many times his mother tried to train him. Theo found himself envious of her poise…and curious, despite himself.
Rustling echoed across the chamber as the ladies brandished their numbered paddles in perfect unison. Theo took note of his mystery girl’s number (nineteen) before he shook himself from his reverie. He was only here to make his appearance as duty required of him, and nothing more. And besides, he can’t have been the only one to take notice of Number Nineteen; she was sure to have her pick of any of the eligible bachelors in attendance.
A girl in a blue gown swooped by in front of him, standing out amidst the endless parade of white. Theo smirked as she boldly chastised Lord Livermore. It seemed as though he found one of the rumored Americans.