"The shortness of his breath is brought from the quick tapping of his feet and not by the gentle tendrils of her hair that escaped from the lively dance, brushing against the curve of her neck and begging for a lover's touch. And his heart beats as...
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Gisele felt a welcomed sense of clarity, come morning. Certainly, she was granted a moment of unpleasant emotion given the circumstances-- but if she let her temper get out of hand again, she could spoil the engagement. However reluctant she was to marry Philippe, she recognized the essential truth of the matter: her engagement was purely strategic. If she could learn to tolerate her fiancé, she could certainly learn to love him. Stranger things had happened, after all.
Patience was key. She'd take a moment to organize her thoughts, collect herself, and prepare for more of his taunts. She had an hour or two until breakfast... why not spend the morning in the gardens?
Leisurely meandering through her wardrobe, and settling on something relatively simple, but elegant, a lovely cream colored gown that was snug to the bust and waist, but flared out around the hips to give her a pleasant silhouette. She brushed and manipulated her hair, and applied a little rouge to her lips, before grabbing the book at her bedside and slipping out of her chambers.
The book was a lovely romance about the most beautiful woman in the world, and the noble warrior who'd protected her during an attack. Nearly halfway through the novel, the two had made camp for the night, and the male, Darius, had just offered to share a bed with her for warmth.
She loved to read all the romances in their library, and her brother, Alexandre, had been smuggling her some of the more risqué ones that her father would never allow her to read. An education, he called it, in the romances he was experiencing with all the whores along the Seine. She'd scoff and smack him on the arm for being so crude, but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed thumbing through the tawdry pages.
Gisele's cheeks flushed and she bit her lip, reading on as things got more risqué, finding a place in the corner of the rose garden as the female, Julia, begged him to be gentle with her.
---
Considering Philippe slept in a different bed from his usual one, where the pillows are fluffed to his liking and a particular spot in his mattress exists where he likes to sink into, he wakes up much earlier than normal. The fact that he had not touched alcohol after dinner as well might have had a hand in a rather impressive time for the young lord to have risen from the bed.
Donning a shirt and britches, he throws an overcoat over his shoulders with an intent to scout the area, not bothering with a cravat or all that pomp for a simple morning walk. Perhaps he can find a nice spot to show Solenne when she arrives, because if he insists, and with all these new people around them, his father must waver and send for her to allow her to attend the ball. Also, it couldn't hurt to find that a village, or more specifically: a pub, might be in walking distance too.
