She'd secured her future... well, mostly. There was still time to change one's mind even after signing a contract. But she didn't want to. Amelia Mason wanted to end the wait and just get married, and then they could go about their lives as if nothing was out of the norm. The servants were placing bets on whether she would lose her innocence before the wedding. She'd heard them talking when she was wandering about to explore the mansion further now that it was hers to do with what she wanted. She would soon enough.

The dark-haired woman was sitting there at her dressing table, looking at her reflection with unease. She was still not used to dressing this way, she mused as she gazed at the elegant gown for the party she had informed Nate about that she'd gotten a last minute invitation to. She was now dressed in her first ballgown. It was absolutely stunning, and it was a color that would shock her father... Crimson. The modiste was rather proud of herself for the creation of this one, with the elegant puff of the sleeves and the fall of the skirts. Her hair was curled and put up in a simple but elegant coif, flowers pinned about in her hair.

Jezebel. Whore. 

She pulled on her silk gloves, pulling the cuffs up to her upper arms. Then she exited the bedroom and headed for the stairs, this time not caring whether Na-- Mister Appleton was already there or not. She would not, could not, think of him the same way after the kisses they shared. Her cheeks went almost as crimson as the gorgeous gown. She would not be letting him close again, could not let him addle her senses so. Of course, all thought fled when her gaze lifted and found a familiar figure at the bottom of the grand staircase, assuming it was Nate.

Nate was no stranger to parties, but invitations to them had been scarce since leaving London, the center of the social universe. So, informed that his intended bride had been invited and needed a chaperone, Nate volunteered. Naturally. His evening wear was a few seasons out of date, but he had aired it and brushed it off.

The servants let him in with their previous formality, but was there a raised eyebrow or the remenants of a crushed smirk. Nate ignored the servants. They had their own minds, they could think what they liked. Indeed, they just left him to loiter at the bottom of the stairs. His shoes made distinct noises as he paced across the floor. He did not much care for the ancient ancestors staring down at him from the walls, so he ignored them too. A creak on the stairs, and Nate looked up. He hoped it was Amelia and he was not disappointed. At all.

"My God!" He breathed softly. If she heard his oath, so much the better.

Last time an angel had decended, but tonight she was replaced by a totally different creature. A gorgeous accolyte of Satan, wrapped in a fiery fabric that both consumed her form but also acsentuated plenty of it on show for Nate to enjoy. His eyes were wide and his mouth was suddenly wet. There was that sudden pulse again from his loins, his little lawyer madly filing his briefs. To hell with this party. Yes, she looked utterly fallen, but that made him want her all the more. Tease.

Her eyes met his and she saw in him a predator... though she was not sure she wanted to fend that off. She descended to the bottom of the stairs, averting her eyes so she wouldn't see the lust she could not believe was for her. Amelia kept out of his reach for the moment, a servant bringing her wrap. She covered herself nervously, but it was too little too late, yes? None of that, she silently commanded, her chin lifting proudly. "Mister Appleton," she said instead of his given name, keeping her tone as aloof sounding as she could. She would pretend to ignore his looks when those very things were causing her to heat up in those places again. He'd made her want him, bad, so now he could want her and suffer the way she had.

She took her fan in hand and turned to face him, a schooled expression of calm upon her face, "I should like to dance twice, of course, with you... A waltz is planned, of course..." It was a clear intent to stake one's claim upon their intended when they danced more than once in one night and she wanted to stake her claim as well. He was, after all, her fiance now.

The footman opened the door and she gave a slight nod toward that one, making her way toward the carriage, but not on his arm. She just couldn't trust herself not to grab him by the lapels and show him what he had done to her.

Nate overruled the objection of his little barrister, though his mind was torn between the present and some imagined sinful future.

"Miss Mason" Nate answered but there was a subtle distraction in his voice, his conviction built on a foundation of sand. Hmn, back to formal names. Bare shoulders were covered and her features hidden briefly by an opened fan. The meek Miss Mason appeared to be once more in charge. There was casual mention of dancing. Nate was not the most gifted of dancers, better than a fool, but on no account should he be let near a ballet stage. "Twice. Yes, well of course. A waltz, I see. My waltzing is somewhat subpar."

His companion did not wait for him to led, instead leaving him to follow after her, appearing to forgo his arm and make her own way.

She at least did wait to be handed up into the carriage, finally able to breathe once outside. When they were both seated, assuming he followed soon behind, she finally answered him. "It doesn't matter how well you dance as long as you make it clear I am your intended. That's what this whole thing is about." It was business, of course. She would appear on his arm, they would dance together, people would talk. That was the nature of things, right? She had never been to a soiree before, so she did not know. She'd only learned to dance recently, she was not adept in such things as of yet as far as she was concerned.

Then there was a stretch of time where the young woman kept silent regardless of whether he was chatting or not. She was avoiding his gaze for the moment, then she glanced his way and... damn it, stared at his lips. Her eyes darted away. "I trust your day was pleasant enough, Na-- Mister Appleton?" She'd caught herself saying his name. Hopefully, she thought, he would ignore the slip up and not catch her in the blatant act of pretending she was unaffected by him.

With the ignorance of a thousand generations of men before him, Nate clambered into the carriage after his fiance. What had he done?  The carriage ride was bouncy but the cushions firm enough to soften the blows. She clarified, he was to be on her arm as her property, a living, breathing, accessory to fashion. Well, from how she looked coming down those stairs, he wasn't so saddened by the prospect. Nate nodded at her questions - or that might have been the jostling of the carriage. The confined space was enhanced by her fragrance.

After a fashion, she asked about his day. A suitable conversation topic for a wife. Wait, there it was! The aborted syllable of his first name.  The wisdom of a thousand generations of Adam was abruptly made clear to him. She was being cold to him, for no particular reason.  Nate chewed on his lip as he pondered. Well...

Was it that kiss the other day?

That'd do it.

If she had wanted to wait until their wedding day to be so passionate, she shouldn't have looked so stunning. She should have worn a potato sack... No, wait!

Entirely her fault. It would be entirely her fault again tonight if he kissed her because she looked so yummy.

"My day was not out of the ordinary, Miss Mason. Thank you for asking.  Yours?"

She fanned herself. He seemed to ignore or miss the slip up. She glanced his way once more and was about to reply, when she found herself taking in his appearance. Her lips tightened a little visibly enough to belie her thoughts. The attraction sizzled between them and even she had to admit that it was compelling. But he'd hurt her feelings. He'd kissed the devil out of her and then pushed her away. How could he have done that?

Hmph.

She murmured, "Nothing out of the ordinary."

The carriage clattered over the cobbled streets, and she said, "I hope this helps drum up some business for you as well. After all, it's not just about me. You'll be meeting Constance's friends... They are all filthy rich and as eccentric as she, but I imagine the need for a lawyer would always be welcome." She couldn't help but to reach out and pick a stray thread from his lapel, then froze and snatched her hand back as if burned. She cleared her throat. It seemed she was thinking more about the appearances for him, so he could get a leg up in society as he had wanted to. She was already doing her part for him despite her cool facade.

"Well, barristers are a bit like bandits, we're not usually welcome unless we're needed for something sordid." He noticed she leaned across for a stray thread. The arm seemingly retracted, but his eyes followed the contours of her pale skin up until the bare arm disappeared under that shawl... the carriage bounced his eyeballs just enough that his gaze fell upon her bosom... Oh yes, this evening would be such a hardship for him..

She snorted, "You'll just have to trust me on this." She kind of gave an interesting look, not insulted because he truly didn't know the strange things Constance Harlowe and her friends did that might require certain services performed by lawyers. There were some cases of trespassing and petty theft, to name a few... but for interesting reasons. In fact, she was so confident that he would see what she meant soon enough, that she pulled her fan away from her face and gave him a grin and a wink, there was no other way to convey her feelings on the matter and she longed to see him smile too anyway.

And then her guard seemed to drop a little more, "We'll be there in only a few more minutes. I hope your time is genuinely grand tonight."

And she was right. He had time to respond, of course, but the carriage rolled to a stop and there was a double thump given to the roof by a solid object. She arched a brow, "Do have fun. I know I shall." And she gave a lovely smile before she stepped out since it was customary for the ladies to go first. When she was safely on the ground, assuming he followed, she would finally settle her hand upon his arm, smiling up at him. There was no facade, her guard was down.

Women were mysterious and unknowable creatures. One moment they were frosty to you, the next warmer than a Sunday roast. Thus a look of puzzled amusement fell upon Nate. Miss Mason, no Amelia - she was his intended - had confused him so. But she was beautiful to look at, so Nate could easily forgive, the tiny barrister in his trousers was doing at lot of thinking for him tonight.

The carriage rolled to a stop, now was the time to exit, Ladies first of course. Nate plopped himself down with a slight hop, catching the backend of his companion's request to have. "I'm sure we shall both. Lead on,"