Now that the invitations have been distributed throughout the land, the excitement begins to build. Everybody who is anybody will be there along with foreign dignitaries. The Princess is about to turn sixteen. Speculation is rife that the Duke will announce her betrothal at the ball. Young men of quality are preening themselves in front of every mirror and driving their tailors mad with demands for suits of the very latest fashions.

Likewise, every seamstress in the city and the countryside for miles around is besieged with orders for dresses. Dresses in silk, dresses in satin, dresses in cotton, dresses in wool (Jolant can be quite cold, even in the summer months), dresses in tulle, dresses in crêpe. All manner and structure of dresses from the scandalous to the very proper.

Victuallers and wine merchants, green grocers and bakeries, sweet shops and coffee shops are all seeking to employ temporary staff and purchase new stocks. The days leading up to the ball will see a veritable orgy of parties, gatherings, parades, picnics, hog roastings, luncheons, high teas and general carousing throughout the capital city.

Many businesses will be at a virtual standstill while others, those that cater to the consumption of fine things and the entertainment of the bored will do as much business in the next two months as they would in a normal year.

Even those who are not invited will share the occasion and the excitement. The newspapers will be full of speculation about who will be wearing what, who will be escorting whom, and who will not be there.

In general a great thrill ran through all the land from the North to the South, from the sea to the mountains. And everybody you met would ask you "Have you been invited?"

After Alisette and Rowene left the stagecoach and Alisette returned home to Blackthorn, she began to pack her best ball-gowns, her favourite jewels.

"Is there an invitation for me, Alisette?" her husband Richard asked, somewhat jokingly.

"Well, I cannot go alone now, can I? You will come as my escort." Alisette said to him smiling.

Within a few days of her returning home, she and Richard - and Rowene, had left for the capital of their fair country.

Richard smiled enigmatically at her comment and went back to his salacious study of Rowene Gray as she practiced her dance. He was a cruelly handsome man, tall, well made and a vigorous lover, but of late, Alisette was certain his desires included young Miss Gray. She was certain of it, but not quite sure if he wanted Miss Gray all to himself, or for a menage a trois with her as well. And she was not quite certain how she felt about either option, to be sure. Hurt. Desperate. Wildly excited. All in equal measure. And all at the same very confusing time.

Richard was immensely wealthy and he had basically paid her father for her hand in marriage along with the legal right to use the Blackthorne name and to claim its estucheon. But she knew that it annoyed him that she was a Countess, born to the nobility and having her title by blood through her father's ancient line, while he, though a decorated war veteran, accounted as brave as lion and twice as fierce, was known only as Captain Blackthorne.

In reply to Inkantrix (msg # 3):

Ooc: Alisette and Richard are cousins from her father's side.

Rowene had never been to the capital, nevermind the fact that she was from the East of Jolant herself. And she had grown up in the forests, so she could not show Alisette and Richard about the capital.

"You move very gracefully, Rowene," Captain Blackthorne spoke in a husky voice as he stepped forward. "Will you dance with me? I need to practice before the ball so that I do not look foolish.

"Alisette, will you make sure my dress uniform is sent to the cleaners? I believe it is in the attic. Perhaps you would check?"

In reply to Captain Blackthorne (msg # 5):

"But of course, dearest husband. I am sure it is in good condition, but I will check." Alisette assured. She left the room and hurried up the staircase to the dark, gloomy attic.

In reply to Captain Blackthorne (msg # 5):

"Of course, Captain. " Rowene said in her quiet voice. It was only a favor for Alisette's husband, after all.

"Thank you," Blackthorne said, though whether to his wife or Rowene it was unclear.

As soon as the Countesse had left the room, her husband stepped boldly out onto the dance floor and took the slender dancer in both of his arms, pulling her nubile body tight against his own powerful frame. She could feel his muscles tense as he started to move with her on the floor, humming the melody of a famous waltz.

"I find you very attractive, Rowene," he spoke in her ear, the soft whisper of his breath stirring her hair and warming her neck. "Beautiful and wild in a way that intrigues me no end."

Rowene noticed that Captain Blackthorne was a very accomplished dancer and certainly needed no practice. She suspected that his request was simply a chance to be alone with her, and close to her. His rugged body molded itself to her willowy frame and she felt his manhood stir against her belly.

As they continued to dance and Rowene made no protest at his intimacy, his hand began to explore, sliding down her back to stroke her buttocks.

He said nothing but the exploration continued with increasing intimacy and urgency.

They were no longer dancing, really, just standing in the middle of the room moving slightly in time to the music from the gramophone as he held her and ran his hands freely over her lithe young body.

In reply to Captain Blackthorne (msg # 9):

Rowene pulled away before he could do anything more. "I might be a ballet-dancer," She spoke before he could say anything, "But Alisette is my friend, and I do not wish to hurt her."

"She is very fond of you as well, Rowene," he smiled and made no move to stay her.

"Good friends. Almost . . . family." His smile broadened, but it seemed a sinister smile to Rowene.

"Perhaps we could all dance together. To practice. For the Ball."

He snapped his heels together, bowed to her and marched away, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor

In reply to Captain Blackthorne (msg # 11):

"That is a good idea." Rowene called out, but the CaptaIn had already left the room.

Rowene sighed, and decided to go upstairs to the attic so if Alisette wanted any help.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Sat 03 Sept 2022.

At dinner that night, Captain Blackthorne ate sparingly and eventually set his silverware down on the snow-white linen tablecloth very deliberately.

"It seems to me, my lady wife," he spoke to Alisette, but his gaze was fixed upon Rowene as he talked, "that you have a fondness for our beautiful ballerina. And she is very loyal to you. Do you have a desire for her? A carnal want to pleasure yourself with her?

"I am not jealous if you do. Indeed, I would do my best to see such a desire consummated."

Now his dark eyes slid to hers and the heat of his excitement filled the great dining room with fluttering gusts of scalding hot air as if a flow of molten lava slid by outside just beyond the window sill.

In reply to Captain Blackthorne (msg # 14):

Alisette practically gaped. Of all the things she had expected her husband to say, it had not been that.
She hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Realizing that he has misread some queue or other rather drastically, Captain Blackthorne's face turns white and then deep red. He stands up abruptly and marches towards the door.

"I've just remembered," he stammers, "that I have to return to the capitol. Important business. Royal business. I may not be back for a day . . . or more. Several days, in fact. A week. At least a week."

Still muttering about the importance and duration of his almost forgotten business, he goes through the door and closes it firmly behind him. Within the hour, his carriage clatters through the courtyard on the way out into the night. It will be after midnight before he reaches the city, and storm clouds are gathering in the hills.

In reply to Captain Blackthorne (msg # 16):

Rowene turned to Alisette and put a hand on her arm."Alise, I can assure you that nothing has been going on behind your back."

Her friend smiled. "You know I am fond of you, Rowene. I expected Richard to ask such a thing, but not at the dinner table."

Rowene turned her head back to her plate. "So when Richard comes back, you will tell him yes? I do not mind if you don't."

Alisette smiled."Yes. Poor dear Richard."

Alisette, while waiting for her husband's return, fetched her sewing, and Rowene sat besides her and read a book of Grimn's fairy-tales.

"I hope your husband comes back safely." Rowene said after a while, putting the book on her lap.

"I know. It will rain soon. I can hear the thunder."

The storm broke as his carriage left the grounds. A bolt of lightning terrified the horses and the vehicle slewed across the road. The front right wheel shattered with a crunch as it slammed into one of the stone markers along the road, and the entire carriage slumped to the side.

In the pouring rain, the scene illuminated by flashes of forked lightning against the lowering sky, Blackthorne leaped free of the foundering vehicle and made his way towards the horses, trapped in their traces and screaming with terror. Realizing in a moment that they would harm themselves if not freed quickly, the Captain drew a small but razor-sharp dagger from his boot. With the agility of a monkey, he surged up and over the side of the carriage, climbing out on the limber shaft to slice at the various straps that imprisoned the hysterical animals.

The driver had been thrown aside in the initial collision and he staggered out of the gloom to help, but the flashing hooves of the horses kept him well back and he watched in amazement as Blackthorne risked life and limb to cut the horses free. Within minutes, both animals slipped out of their traces and galloped away into the storm.

"They'll be back," nodded Blackthorne, jumping back down the road again and clapping the driver on the shoulder. "They're scared right now, but that will fade quickly and then they'll come back looking for a dry place to weather the storm.

"Wait for them here, in the shelter of the gatehouse, and have the ostler send word when they're back in the stables, and let me know if either is hurt."

Soaking wet, the big man turned away and stalked back towards the house. As he approached the lighted windows, he could see his wife and the lovely Rowene sitting together. His desire boiled over and he stalked into the drawing room, still dripping, his clothes plastered to his body.

His blood pounded in his ears as he moved toward them. He shook his head like a dog to drive away the rain and pulled off his coat, discarding it, sopping wet on the polished wood floor. His linen shirt, wet through, clung to his massive frame, his muscles plainly visible as he breathed deep with desire.

"Now!" he commanded. "I want you now. Both of you. Here in front of the servants, or upstairs in private, I do not care. I have come close to death this evening and I will not shy away from my heart's desire."

He reached out a hand to each of them to pull them to their feet.

In reply to Captain Blackthorne (msg # 20):

"Upstairs would be best." Alisette said, a bit shocked by her husband's sudden appearance, but trying to remain calm. "Come upstairs with us, Rowene."

She took her friend's hand, and with the other, took her husband's.

In reply to Countess Alisette Blackthorn (msg # 21):

Rowene took her friend's hand, and followed her and the Count upstairs, timidly.