Virtues Uncounted, Part 4
Series Pairings: Gwilym Lee x Reader, Joe Mazzello x Reader
Chapter Summary: The year is 1820, in the charming English village of Ashwick Heath. You are a young lady of distinction, rather bored during the long summer months in your family’s country estate. The only reprieve from this boredom is the handsome, if shy, Mr. Gwilym Lee, the youngest son of the noble family living adjacent to you, and his mysterious and brash American cousin, Mr. Mazzello. The first ball of the season is held at Moorhead Park on a beautiful summer evening, where your dance card is quickly filled and you spend time with friends, new and old. Gwilym’s sour mood and Joseph’s proclivity for Madeira wine send the evening into a whirlwind of emotions.
Chapter Warnings: Flirtation, alcohol consumption, angst, a kiss…
Chapter Word Count: 12.4k (oh my god)
Author’s Note: The ball has arrived! As always, I had so much fun writing this chapter and doing my research for the costumes and food and dancing. The fact that this chapter is so long….whew. Someday, I may learn to be concise but today is not that day. A huge shout-out to the Discord, and especially to @o-holynight for beta-reading and designing the moodboard (gorgeous as always)! This is a work of fiction, and all place names and peerage titles are made up by me, for ease of writing. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, because they give me feedback! I love to hear your thoughts on the stories I write! Are you Team Gwilym or Team Joseph? Sound off in my inbox!
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Most days, you spend very little time in front of your looking glass, just glancing briefly in the morning to tie your hair back and tuck it underneath a bonnet, if you are going out. As a fresh-faced look is en vogue, there is no need for daily cosmetics, except on those mornings when you wake up with an angry red spot on your forehead, begging to be covered in concealer.
Today, though, you swear you have stared in the mirror so long, you hardly recognize the face staring back at you. Margie has worked every kind of magic on your face and hair, spending hours twisting mounds of curls into the elegant updo you are now sporting, a few ringlets hanging down by your temples to frame your face. She has anointed your face with soft, perfumed creams and powders, which make your skin as luminous and smooth as a harvest moon. Your favorite shade of rouge has delicately been dabbed on your cheeks, warming your complexion and giving you the healthy glow that the magazines promise. With a final dusting of powder, Margie steps back, marveling at her creation.
“You look positively divine, Miss.”
why i sense some more drama coming up soon?