mnkee — Roleplayer Guild

Location: Almack’s
“Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness.”

	Fyror looked down at Millicent with a warm smile as he held her petite frame in his arms. “And I too have greatly enjoyed your pleasant company, Miss Wyndham” he responded earnestly. He was honestly a bit disappointed that the dance was coming to end. Perhaps he should ask her for one more dance. Surely, she would not refuse him. 

	However, her next statement drained all the warmth and happiness from his face, and his arm instinctively tightened around her waist in a protective yet comforting manner. His head whipped to the side, following Millicent’s gaze, to find the cause of her sudden change in demeanor: Lord Rutherford. The tension that over took him was becoming all too familiar these days. His jaw clenched and his face hardened almost imperceptibly as he met the loathsome Earl’s gaze. Fyror’s gaze quickly returned to Millicent as he felt her slip from his grasp. He wanted to cry out in protest, and the look in his eyes pleaded with her to stay.

	But of course, Millicent did not stay with Fyror. Lord Rutherford had such a hold over her, something Fyror could not wrap his head around. What did that man have on her that would make her go back to him time and time again? His heart sank into his stomach and he felt sick as he watched them: the woman he felt a fondness for with the man who was destined to disgrace her. There was turmoil within him, a crude mixture of anger, protectiveness, frustration, and heartbreak. His gaze was laced with emotional pain, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Yet for some reason, he found that he could not tear his gaze away from them. Or so he thought…

	When Lord Rutherford kissed Millicent, he could watch no longer. He ripped his gaze away and stormed out of the building as a desperate and violent urge to rip the two away from each other threatened to manifest itself. Now was not the time to lose his cool. It would only make things worse for Millicent. He pushed through the front doors and stepped outside, the air biting at his flushed face. The hardness in his demeanor caused some of the people standing just outside the entrance to Almack’s to scatter. He wanted to scream and cry out his frustration. He felt like he had terribly failed Millicent. He could not keep her safe from Lord Rutherford or give her anything more than fleeting happiness. 

	The truth of the matter was that sometimes he cared so deeply for people that it slowly killed him inside.

Fyror & Millicent
Location: Almack's

	Fyror watched Millicent’s facial expression and awaited her response intently. Yet the reaction he got was not what he had expected. She seemed almost deflated? Disappointed? Offended? His brows furrowed in confusion. “Please forgive me if I said or did something that offended you,” he stated earnestly. No sooner had the words left his lips did a thought occur to him. Perhaps the problem was not what he had said or done per se. The problem was him. 

	Hurt crept into his gaze. She was rejecting him as so many women had done. It had been made clear to him over the years that it was degrading to be approached or spoken to by a man of his marred appearance. That was the reason why he did not ask women to dance with him at functions such as this. He did not want to unwittingly damage a woman’s social standing in the eyes of everyone. But he had thought that Millicent Wyndham was different from the rest. Perhaps he was mistaken, as he could see from the look on her face that she was going to decline his offer. 

	The words swept passed Millicents ears, barely registering them as her eyes looked at him. Had she heard him correctly? Offended her? How on earth could he offend her? He had never done anything remotely ungentlemanly, ever the consummate gentleman of the highest honor and accord. The question left her speechless, something that was a rarity for Millicent when it came to such matters. The look on his features made her sure that she had not misheard. She had to say something but her eyes had caught Rutherford coming towards her, it had to wait. 

	However, as the music began to play, her demeanor changed entirely. She tensed and abruptly stated that she would be honored to share the next dance with him. It did not take much deduction on his part to realize that the loathsome Lord Rutherford’s presence had put her on edge. Evidently, she felt safer with Fyror. That surely had to count for something. Fyror swept his hurt under the rug so to speak and turned to offer her his arm. He paid no attention to Lord Rutherford as he led her to the dance floor.

	Millicent quickly laced her arm through his and let him lead her, gathering folds of silk in her free hand. As they walked onto the dance floor she let out a sigh of relief. Catching from the corner of her eye that her mother and Lord Rutherford were now cut off in wondrous thanks to her dearest friend. She would have to repay her for her kind intervention. How she had no clue but she would. Some how. Taking a calming breath the fear left her eyes for the first time that evening and she noticeably relaxed at Fyror's side as she turned to face him. Resting on gloven hand in his, her other rested on his broad shoulder. Dark brown eyes drifted up to his and a soft smile that rarely graced her lips came as she waited for him lead her in this dance. 

	To Fyror’s satisfaction, the tension seemed to drain from Millicent as they stepped onto the dance floor. Their height difference required him to look down slightly when she turned to face him, and her hand just reached his broad tapered shoulder. He noted how small her hand was when he took it in his own. He tentatively put his other arm on her waist before meeting her gaze. He felt his heart skip a beat when a smile lit up her features, and he gave her a small, somewhat shy smile in return.

	He felt like he was encroaching upon foreign territory, as he could not recall a time when he had ever been this close to a woman. She felt so fragile in his muscular arms, and this only fueled his protective nature. Yet in the moment he pushed these distracting thoughts aside and scrambled to recall the dance steps that his mother had taught him. He began leading her in the dance in time with the music. His steps were not as refined as they could be, but it was the best he could do. “I am a bit rusty, as I do not often get the opportunity to dance,” he explained apologetically. 

	Following his lead, Millicent let out the softest of chuckles, her lips parting slightly to reveal the pearl color of her teeth. "If you will be kind enough not to let the Ton know that I do not have such opportunities to dance often and am in fact rusty myself I believe we shall do fine," she said softly as they danced, turning across the floor. Millicent felt an ease in his arms she had not felt with Lord Ruthford. She welcomed his touch and closeness, it was strong and yet not overbearing. Her cheeks roseing at the warmth of his hand emanating at her waist from his hold.

	Millicent’s statement drew another smile from Fyror. “Your secret is safe with me, miss,” he replied quietly as he continued to lead her around the dance floor. There was slight amusement in his voice but also an ever-present earnest quality to it. He was glad, and honestly a bit relieved, that she seemed to be enjoying his company at the moment.

	As they continued Millicent found her mind wandering back to what he had said previously and she took the close quarters chance to clear the air. "Sir Kildragon... you did not offend me," she said quietly as her feet glided across the floor. Her chest rising as she took a thoughtful breath. "Never could a man such as yourself offend me. You humbled me." Her eyes had drifted away as she spoke but came back to his timidly at the end of her words, finding herself biting her bottom lip gently as her gaze found his.

	Her next statement peaked his attention. If he had not offended her earlier, then what had been the reason for her reaction? He looked at her questioningly, but her gaze had since drifted away. There was an awkward silence between them before she finally spoke again and her gaze tentatively returned to his. A grimace crossed his face as his steps faltered in response to her words. That gnawing sensation of doubt came back to the forefront of his mind. Her kind words always seemed too good to be true, like she was just flattering him. He could hide his doubt no longer. He had to address it, even if it backfired on him. “You speak to me with such flattering words, quite contrary to how most women treat me. I—I cannot help but wonder if you truly mean what you say.”

	The miss of his step and the look in his face caused her concern, his words made her bite down on her lips hard. A look not of offense but disbelief coming to her features. Had he truly just questioned her integrity? Doubted if she spoke truth? What words had people spoke to cause anything that had ever left her lips to seem false? Millicent was known amongst the gossips for many things; being outspoken, too bold, strong willed, not knowing her place. All of these were common and more but a liar? Swallowing hard she kept in time with the music and began to push to lead him now in their dance. Her eyes coming back to his after a silent moment of contemplation only marked by staggered breaths. 

	Her lips thinning slightly right before she spoke, jaw tightening as she lifted her chin and pride came over her. "Never doubt my words Sir Kildragon." Her voice was steady but firm as iron as she spoke. "I do not know what words have floated to your ears about my morality and integrity Sir but I can assure you that whatever words have left my lips towards you have been spoken with the utmost sincerity. I meant what I said this evening to you as much as I mean what I am about to say..." she said, her voice still for a moment before she continued. "If you doubt my honor you needn't bother to lower yourself to be in my presence again."

	If Fyror had questioned her sincerity before, he would be foolish now to do it again. The intensity in her voice took him aback, and he was left speechless while he let her words sink in. If everything she had ever said to him was spoken with complete sincerity and was not an exaggeration or flattery, then what did that mean her opinion of him was? He recalled all the previous statements he had ever heard her make to or about him. Never could a man such as yourself offend me. You humbled me… You honor us with your presence… Always a pleasure to see a man such as yourself grace my presence… I would be more than blessed to have a man of honor as a husband than any other cretin in the room… It dawned on him that she truly had a high opinion of him, one in which that was not swayed by his marred appearance. She saw him for he was on the inside and accepted him wholeheartedly. 

	After a drawn out contemplative silence, he finally spoke up. He poured out his heart in his words, making the sincerity of them clear. “I have made a horrible error and for that I am deeply sorry. It was no one else’s words that have swayed my good judgment but my own foolishness and self-consciousness. I fear that I have grown so used to rejection that I had become blind to the possibility that a woman could ever see past my scars. But you have opened my eyes by giving me a well needed reality check. I am very grateful for that,” he stated earnestly before addressing her last statement. “I do not feel like I have ever lowered myself to be in your presence. I feel that I have tried my utmost to treat you with the respect and admiration you so deserve.”

	It was Millicent's turn to be left speechless and slightly slack-jawed on top of it as she looked up at him. Her feet moving of their own accord across the dance floor as he held her in his arms. He was used to rejection and had a hard time believing a woman could see there was more to him than his scars? Yes, he was scarred. She herself would have to be blind not to see that but they had never been off-putting to her; they had intrigued her and told her that he was far stronger than most who waltzed around them. Her found her fingers curling against his broad shoulder in a comforting manner as he spoke but his last words caused color to rise in her cheeks. She looked away sharply, trying to hide the blush. Her soft locks brushing the underside of his chin as they danced. 

	Millicent was flabbergasted and unsure of what to say right then. He thought her deserving of respect and even admiration? She did not doubt his words, he was a man of honor from all accounts. Well she did not doubt he believed what he said but she hardly felt she was deserving of any sort of admiration or respect; especially considering how her mother had treated him when she was in his presence. Swallowing the lump in her throat she tried to respond in some manner that would not make her look like a complete fool. "We all have scars Sir Kildragon, some of us just hide them better than others," she said as she lifted her head to look up at him once again. Tensing her hand in his, her fingers curling over his palm. "Consider this. Those that have been foolish enough not to enjoy your company were the ones that were blind and you were most fortunate as to not have to tolerate their presence. They were unworthy of your time." Her words were just as firm as before now but there was a lilt to them, a confidence in her own words as she gave a curt nod of her head as if to affirm what she had said. 

	After how voicing his doubt had nearly cost him her trust, Fyror was glad that he was able to put her at ease once more. Some would say that the way he so readily voiced his true feelings and admitted his faults was a sign of weakness; however, to him he always viewed speaking the truth as being a sign of strength. The irony was that the truth could often hurt and yet it could also so easily mend wounds.

	He found that he watched her with growing fondness and intrigue. She certainly was a beautiful and intelligent woman, and she had this bold quality to her that he could not help but admire. He glanced down at her hand as it curled against his shoulder in a seemingly comforting manner. Warmth emanated from her touch. His gaze returned to hers, and he caught her flustered reaction just before she looked away sharply, causing her hair to tickle his chin. He was honestly oblivious to the reasoning for her reaction. After a few moments, her gaze finally returned to him and she spoke once more. A warm smile graced his features at her words. “Wise words indeed, Miss Wyndham,” he responded softly. “Wise words indeed.”

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