"But you are a man and therefor have the ability to do more and earn respect much quicker than a woman." She lifted a brow, "A woman will get accused of more nefarious things if she were to climb the rungs of this social ladder we seem to me on." And then she squinted her eyes in obvious good humor. "Does this gown truly make me look like a trollop?" She could not even be faulted for her taste. She was everything society accepted of a woman of her new status, respectable, charming, and perhaps lovely... nothing about her was presented in a way that could be considered sexual. Though she had missed his pants tenting.

"Hardly." Nate chuckled deeply, setting his spoon to the plate, a sign he was finished eating. "A trollop would be far too obvious, she would be trying too hard with a bold painted face and a bold dress, but everything would somehow appear substandard, cheap. You exude the very opposite. Dare I say you could be presented at the Queen Charlotte Ball without a blink."

The footmen collected the bowls and then they were replaced by the next course. A fish course. It was Herring Pye (pie), herring and butter that was baked in puff pastry. And it was delicious. Amelia could not help but to make a sound in the back of her throat at her first taste of puff pastry. She closed her eyes and nearly wept with genuine delight... And then his words registered.

She darted a glance back to him. "Is that what you want, Mister Appleton? Or is it more than that?" she put her fork to the side for the moment and tilted her head, "Do you want this to be nothing but a business arrangement, or do you want me to fall in love with you? Tell me what you need out of this marriage. If it's affection, I've already been finding that easier to obtain than I thought I would."

What did Nate want in this regard? A woman with financial backing to annoy his brother and cement his position has the better Appleton son? A wellheeled lady hung on his arm to rejoin polite company. Certainly, he would not have agreed to this venture if these two conditions were not met. But could he love her?

Love, that intoxicating life sentence handed down by divine judgement. On the basis of what sat before him - and on the present angle of his tiny gavel - he already did. If love were solely based upon the fabric of a dress, or the daintiness of her gloved hand, her flawless complexion, then yes, he did love her. But, that was not love, that was lust. Raw sexual power. She was asking for more, something much deeper, a much more intimate connection.

Shifting in his chair, Nate could raise absolutely no objections to the notion of a sympathetic ear. For the law was an fickle mistress, a ruler absolute. Guilty, Not Guilty. Life, Death. To come home to a trusting soul days end and melt under their touch or lighten one's spirit. That sounded delightful. His eyes were unfocused, enveloped in this fantasy.

"Love as you know is not an instant condition; it takes time to build a loving relationship, much like a successful legal prosecution. Evidence must be collected to support the case to ensure victory. With time though, I believe love can flourish between two people. I fear I may be a difficult man to love."

"Love was never to be a requirement when it comes to marriage," she started. Her pause was a long one as her stormy eyes drifted over his face, and then other parts of him. If he could see the way her pupils seemed to dilate because of his nearness. The scene was, after all, a more intimate one. She let her eyes return to his, her brow lifting in a subtle way that would reflect her shock at the realization that she liked that he was affected by the way she now dressed. "I am perfectly able to handle it if you don't give me your affection," she lied, at last. And he could easily pick up on the fact that she lied, for her eyes darted away at some point for a mere second. Her voice had been forced into a cooler tone, but there was a slight wavering to indicate she was putting on a front that she was used to putting up, so practiced it was. "I am used to it. After all, my brother and father are... shining examples of what love is." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm.

She suddenly wanted nothing more of the food, "This was a mistake," she whispered and placed her napkin on the table, preparing to launch from her chair. "We're marrying for convenience, that was the agreement. Have you drawn up your contract? I would get it signed." She was no longer looking at him, as if wanting more was a sin. "I have no objections to your requirements, as you well know."

Nate had cross-examined many witnesses in his legal career, some as beautiful as she, but most not. Wearing their finest, looking their best hoping that mere appearances and not their words would sway a jury. Thus, he was able to catch the fleeting glance away, that obvious pause, physical guestures at complete odds with what was said. She was lying.

The fish pye was good, Nate could not offhand recall when he had had better. Yet, in that moment his dinner companion decided that supper no longer held her sway and she rose from the table. Nate rose too. From across the tablecloth, she appeared to need a man to honour, cherish, and adore her. Hmm The words entirely formal. A desire to rapidly formalise their marriage mere partnership.
 
“I took the liberty, Miss.” Nate reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced a vertically folded wad of paper tied tightly together with red ribbon. Actually, he was glad to be shod of it because of how it jabbed him in the ribs when he sat down. The enchanting aroma of orange blossom and honey reached his senses. He looked at the stunning creature before him and his composure began to wavier, his cheeks reddening. If he was fast enough, he could seek refuge behind the packet “I am certain you shall want to review it for completeness, before signing. I left particulars of the location and-"

The scent of citrus oils, soap, and her own musk was heady; her beauty so close to him, was intoxicating; the stain of his own trousers considerable. Christ, he felt drunk. Could she see all this? His words suddenly quieted to a whisper as his thoughts just wandering off to luxuriate in her presence. The rest of it did not seem important to say. If she needed love in that moment, he would give it to her in spades. He was liable to give her anything. What felt like a lifetime passed before he regathered his wits and remembered that he needed to finish talking.

“umm time umm yes time; I left them blank, as I did not know your religious leanings.”

She was having the hardest time with looking at him, and then not looking, and then, God, she was confused by the emotions swirling around within her. She barely heard what he had to say; at the moment, she was fascinated in the movement of his hands as he pulled out the contract he had drawn up that would hopefully state her part as much as his. She didn't reach out immediately, her eyes kind of drifted toward a place that was unlikely to have gotten her attention so much and that was his mouth. For the moment, she was trying to keep from imagining what it would feel to be kissed.

She would not, however, give him that chance if he so happened to notice the moment she started to actually yearn for the answers only he could give her for the way her eyes questioned. In fact, she could not help but to give a step back and pivot, trying to save face by addressing the footmen, "Please tell cook the food is lovely, but I am afraid I am quite full." Never mind that they had yet for their third, fourth, and fifth courses. She had no idea what was made since all of it was a surprise. The two footmen exchanged glances, as they had never seen their former friend and now employer so very flustered. She wasn't fooling them either. Nate might even be able to catch a glimpse of the way they smirked knowingly once they both decided it wasn't about the food.

The attraction between Nate and Amelia was almost palpable the way it radiated between them... at least to the onlooker. They both snapped to attention then and, both trying very hard not to grin and to look stoic, took the plates away quietly while Amelia stood there giving herself a moment to come back to reality.

"It does not matter of my... form of worship. I'll go to church, of course, but I'll leave which one up to you. My faith is..." she paused. How did one say in this day and age that faith was hogwash? Or at least hers. Faith certainly didn't do much for her as she grew up the daughter of a Vicar, one who seemed completely incapable of demonstrating love toward his only daughter but bestowing the lot of it to her twin.

She then just simply waved it off like it didn't matter. For the moment, it did not. She then took the offering, the paper that was tied with a ribbon. "Then to the Library, shall we?" She started to read the paper as she began to lead the way, and it would only take a few moments before they were up the first flight of the grand staircase and off to the left wing, where the library door sat ajar. She led him in. It was a massive room and it consisted of the three remaining stories of the manse. There were books from floor to ceiling, and a ladder leaning against the shelves. It was a well loved room, the furniture and ladders, all the books clean yet the smell of library was quite distinct. She moved toward the desk that sat in front of the most beautiful stained glass window, one that was clearly older than the house. The rainbow of colors cascaded through the panes, casting their multicolored glory against her as well as the things in front of it, the floor beyond the desk, and even part of the shelves on either side of the door.

And she wasn't looking at any of it at the moment, a shame really since it deserved to be admired just as much as she. She went for the quill pen, one where the feather was just barely there anymore, but it had been Constance's favorite piece for some reason... what was it, it belonged to the someone important and it was rarely used. Constance had taught Amelia how to write using such a pen, that one must seal the ink with sand, and it just seemed appropriate to sign the contract that had been drawn up for her. First, though, she read and saw nothing that bothered her about the contract. Without another word, she scratched her name in feminine handwriting that said much about the fact she'd been educated well, and then she offered the quill over. Did he even know how to use a quill pen or was he more into the pens they had around these days? "If you would prefer a different pen, there are others," she said unnecessarily, for it wasn't hard to see that Constance had been very much a pen collector, and there were at least four of them scattered on the desk. Good quality ones.

Nate missed the honest exchange of knowing glances from the assembled staff, his attention entirely held by Miss Mason. There was the scraping and clinking of plates as the debris of dinner was removed. Nate had little notion that those who served him now would be the very same who would serve him once he had entered into an arrangement with Miss Mason. Apparently, the young woman had little inclination for matters spiritual. Saint Michael's C of E was just a few streets over, so that was as good as Saint Hilda's. It also had the added bonus of being a grander church and did not have an identical catholic twin thus erasing confusion. Three short weeks of public announcement to object to their union and that was all.

She was obviously eager to sign it, so led him off into the house to a location with an ample supply of pens and paper. The library to which he was led was magnificant, a bibliophile's dream. Countless coloured volumes, fixtures and fittings worn luxuriously smooth. With the effeciany of business, Miss Mason appeared to add her signature. She appeared to be a collector of implements and so Nate had many to choose from. Selecting the closest, Nate dipped the nib in the ink pot and added his own name to the document. There was no sense in wasting time.

That was that. They were officially betrothed to each other. They would be wed as soon as they could legally marry. She didn't look at him until after she took the paper and sprinkled sand over their signatures to seal the ink. She then looked up at him, her eyes hooded. "I suppose we should begin to call each other by our given names since technically, we're now engaged, yes? Please... call me Amelia." She wanted to hear her name on his lips, wanted his voice to lend it's rich quality to the three syllables her father had given her for a moniker. More than that, she found herself unable to say anymore anyway, for she was looking at the colors of the stained glass as they were cast upon him.

There were so many things to do, yet she couldn't think of them at the moment. All she could focus on was his face. Her heart was hammering in her chest, pounding so hard she wondered if he could hear. And then she kind of closed her eyes and forced herself to take a calming breath. He would probably tire of her soon enough and find another woman to warm his bed. Problem was, she was jealous of whatever tart might catch his eye. She shouldn't care since this was a business transaction after all.

"I will see to it that everything is ready. A small wedding is fine, I... don't care for the pomp of a grand ceremony, but I won't object if that is something you want. I can't promise something lavish since it takes... well... lots of time, and we only have a few weeks." She might be business like, but she wanted very much to know what his lips felt like against her own to the point of madness, it felt. And she, not one ounce of her, was equipped with the knowledge of anything that went on between a man and a wife other than vows were sealed with kisses and that she had seen others kissing and it looked enjoyable for both parties. She didn't know why she felt... heat? Not just heat but the kind created by an electric sensation. Her belly was filled with the fluttering of a thousand pairs of butterfly wings. She was starting to feel slick in a place that she didn't know could get that way other than... well... a woman's cycle. Had she just... started? No, considering she just finished THAT not a whole week prior.

Sweat accumulated in the most inconvenient places, places that longed for something she couldn't even name since she knew nothing about intimate activities. Why, she could even feel the heat building up in her cheeks. Oh, god, she thought, just... do what needs to be done, make it stop aching... Without her realizing it, the hunger was stark in her eyes, and her iris' were almost black with her unknown wanting.

It was done. The ink was still wet, but they were now promised to eachother, soon to be husband and wife with all the joys and sorrows that accompanied such a formal union. Matter-of-factly, it was suggested that they now use Christian names. Hers was Amelia, but he knew that from their formal correspondence as lawyer and client.

"Amelia.. " Nate allowed her name to roll around his palette. He could say it; he could whisper it; he could scream it "Charmed to make your acquaintance. My name is Nathan, but Nate is best."