1: For the Sake of Politeness

"You should just consider it, dear."

Rosemary Claire Albright, née Vermont, did not want to consider it. Still, she smiled politely at the matron and tried not to let her irritation show.

"Thank you, Lady Elliot. I appreciate your..." She hoped the older woman did not hear her hesitation. "...advice."

It was several more minutes before Rosemary could escape the conversation, waiting until Lady Elliot was distracted by a footman bearing a plate of petits fours to beg her apologies and melt into the crowd. For a moment, the matron looked as if she might protest, but then she spotted a small, pink cake, and forgot about Rosemary entirely.

As she turned away, the younger woman let out a sigh of relief, her smile fading into exhaustion. The evening had only just begun, and yet she felt as if she'd been at that ball for years, smiling at the same people, accepting their condolences, and listening to their many unsolicited opinions. It was not that she didn't appreciate it... She let out a quiet huff, laughing to herself; actually, she didn't appreciate it. Not one bit.

She skirted the centre of the room, pulling her placid smile back into place as she dipped her head at invitations to converse and politely declined requests to dance. She could see the archway against the fall wall, could almost taste the promise of a quiet moment alone in the corridor, and if she was particularly lucky, she might even make it to the library before her mother discovered she'd disappeared.

"Oh, Mrs Albright!" The man who stepped forward to accost her and interrupt her flight to freedom was familiar, but by no means a friend. Lord Anthony Wells was, in all regards, a peacock, and as he swept into a deep bow, Rosemary had to duck to the side to avoid being battered by one such feather. When he straightened, however, her smile was serene. "Or have you reverted to Miss Vermont after all these years?"

Whatever benefit of the doubt she'd afforded him vanished in seconds. "My name remains Mrs Albright, Lord Wells."

"Ah, a pity, a great pity." His jowls quivered as his mouth arranged itself into some semblance of a pout. "You know, Mrs Albright, there are a great many men who might restore you to your station. If you were to simply change... this..." His gesture, little more than a vague rolling of his fingers, was more than sufficient to highlight his distaste with her dress. "Then even I might –"

Rosemary let out a deliberately light peal of laughter, clasping her hands at her waist. "Oh, Lord Wells, you are very kind to worry about me so, but I assure you, I am fine as I am." His mouth twitched, and she worried he might try to speak again, continuing quickly, "Now if you'll excuse me, I am in search of a friend."

She bobbed a quick curtsey, and moved around him, maintaining the polite curl of her lips as he tried to continue talking, nodding although she could not hear him over the music of the string quartet. When a pair of gentleman – mercifully – walked between them, she turned away fully and did her best to disappear into the crowd once more.

She made it to the archway without being further accosted, darting into the hallway and feeling peace descend on her as the hubbub of the ball quieted slightly. In her haste, she collided with another rounding the corner. Rosemary let out a gasp as the air was knocked from her chest, and it was only the hands that gripped her upper arms that kept her upright. "Oh, forgive me, I-" As she glanced up, her apology froze on her lips.

The man she'd bumped into was neither stranger nor acquaintance; he was family... almost. Mister Alexander Kilroy was her cousins' cousin, and the fact that they shared no blood was plain to see. Alexander's skin was dark, like his father's, but where the elder Mister Kilroy bore a permanent smile, his son wore a frown. He released her quickly, and had stepped away from her with a quick nod before he actually looked her in the face. The wave of recognition was unmistakable.

"Rosie?" The corner of his mouth twitched as he said her name. "I-"

"There you are Alexander!"

Both of them jerked, turning to the elegant brunette woman that approached them. She was not quite as tall as Alexander, with a brilliant smile fixed in place, but in other ways they looked very similar. She had a straight nose, warm brown eyes, and an angular jaw that were perfectly emulated on the features of her youngest son. When she spotted Rosemary, her smile seemed to widen.

"Oh, Rosemary, darling, how lovely to see you!" She reached for her, clasping their hands together in a warm greeting. "I see you've caught my wayward son before he managed to convince anyone he never left the ball." She raised a narrow eyebrow at Alexander.

Rosemary laughed, her first sincere chuckle of the night. "Not at all, Aunt Delia, we both just stepped out for a moment to catch our breath." She turned back to the young man, meeting his frown with a smile. "Did we not, Alex?"

He seemed to stare at her for a long moment. Then he looked up abruptly, aiming a neutral expression at his mother. "Indeed, we did."

Mrs Cordelia Kilroy did not believe either of them for a second. "A likely story," she said, her eyes raising briefly to the heavens. She released Rosemary's hand so that she could grip her son's forearm instead. "This is your brother's party – the first you've attended in years – I hardly think I'm asking too much for you to ask a few young ladies to dance, or –"

Alexander smiled at her suddenly, a change that startled her to silence. "You're exactly right Mother. Which is why I've just asked Rosie to do me the honour."

Two matching sets of dark eyes fixed on her face, and Rosemary felt her smile fall readily into place. "And I of course accepted." Alex offered her his arm and she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve.

With a pursing of her lips that said she was only temporarily placated, Cordelia waved them towards the dance floor, watching them disappear into the crowd until only the top of her son's head was visible.

Rosemary tossed a look over her shoulder, making sure they were out of his mother's view, before she gave Alexander's arm a rough squeeze.

"You owe me for this," she said through a stiff smile, nodding at a friendly baron as they passed him.

He caught her hand in his, leading her through a narrow gap into the crowd and onto the dancefloor, before guiding her to take up places in the quadrille. "Name a time, and I shall repay the favour tenfold," he said, leaning towards her so that she could hear his low words over the hum of the crowd.

His eyes caught the candlelight, sparkling at her, and she shook her head. "Goodness," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I can't imagine what I'll do with ten dances with the enigmatic Alexander Kilroy!"

In an excellent imitation of his mother, Alexander's eyes darted upwards and back down, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. The quartet played a few low notes then, preparing their instruments, and Rosemary became suddenly aware of the eyes on them. She supposed it was only fair; they might have been the two least likely to dance people in attendance. Still, it sent a shiver of displeasure up her arms.

"As always, no one can look away from you."

The comment was so unexpected, that Rosemary's head whipped towards her dance partner, her brow furrowing into what might have almost been called a frown. She remembered where she was however, smoothing out her expression with great effort.

"You hardly go without notice yourself, Alex."

He shrugged as the song started up in earnest, and each focussed on the opening bars. They bowed to each other, Rosemary bobbing out a hasty curtsey, and then to the couple across from them, before moving together across the room. For a few seconds, they were separated, but as their hands rejoined Alex continued as if the conversation had not been interrupted.

"They do not look for the same reason though, do they?" He turned them in a circle, his shoulder slightly behind hers so that he all but spoke into her ear. "You are sunshine to them, a promise of better weather to come."

It was a pretty compliment, but for some reason it sat low in Rosemary's chest. She blinked away the feeling, smiling as she took the hand of the man opposite her.

"And what are you in this analogy of yours?" she asked when she returned to Alex.

He had an answer prepared. "A storm, leaving destruction in my wake."

Rosemary tutted at that, fixing him with a flat look. "Oh, hardly, Alex."

"Fine." They wove their way through the opposite pair once more. "Then I am... the midnight rain, to your sunshine. Gloomy, but easily forgettable."

She knew he was frowning – it was Alex, he was always frowning – but there was something enticing about his words. To be forgettable... She yearned for that.

The song came to a close, and their opposing pair gave them quick smiles and made their escape from the dance floor.

"Thank you again for rescuing me, Rosie," Alexander said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"You're welcome, Alex." She grinned up at him. "I'll be waiting on my ten dances in turn."

He opened his mouth, humour in his eyes, but he had no opportunity to voice his thought. Another woman came bustling up, her hand finding Rosemary's spare hand easily, and pinning her with a bright smile.

"Rosie, darling, th- Oh, hello Alex, how lovely to see you!" The energetic woman was short, with a rounded frame and bright blonde hair arranged delicately in a braided coiffure.

Alexander smiled at her, though it didn't reach his eyes. "And you as well, Aunt Jemima."

"You'll have to excuse Rosie now, Alex dear, I've just found a lovely gentleman who would very much like to meet her!"

Rosemary felt a wave of heat across her cheeks, and knew she was surely flushed. "Mama, I am not-"

"Of course you aren't, darling." Jemima waved her away, her attention on the crowd around them. Suddenly, she found her target, gesturing a gentleman over who seemed almost as hesitant to approach as Rosemary was to be approached. His smile was polite, all but hidden in a brown beard, and he bowed sharply from a few steps away.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs Albright."

As the man straightened, his grey eyes ran across her quickly, hesitating at he saw her hand still linked with Alex's. Within a heartbeat, that hand grasped little more than air.

"If you'll all excuse me," Alex said, dipping his head first as Rosemary and her mother, and then offering a slight inclination to the other gentleman.

As he walked away, Rosemary resisted the urge to call in her favour that very moment. Instead she smiled politely as her mother made the introductions, and Lord DeGeorge invited her to dance.

"I'm afraid I do not dance often, sir, and I am quite worn out from the quadrille." Her mother gave her hand a tight squeeze, but she ignored her. "I could not refuse a turn about the room, however?"

DeGeorge's polite smile never wavered. "It would be my honour."