A WEEK AGO - 9TH OF JUNE, 1778
Alexander looked at the pocket watch in his hand. Roughly half past six. He stood against the marble walls of Walmouth House, waiting, anticipating. His toes tap lightly on the marble floor, counting the seconds that pass by. He turned around to look in the mirror. He was looking quite debonair this night, and for good reason. He was about to attend Lady Stirling's ball. Lady Stirling was a thirty-odd year old respected lady who last year had lost her husband to some mysterious malady Lady Stirling won't care to share. One would think she'd cry over Lord Stirling's passing but here she was, using his inheritance to throw dashing parties and inviting everyone she knew in polite society. Alexander thought it was quite ill of her to do so, but Lady Stirling was, after all, a nice acquaintance to him & his family, and all his ill thoughts of her must be evicted.
There was a wild strand of hair that escaped from Alexander's white powdered wig. Carefully, he placed it back in debonairly, looking neatly soigné. Tonight, he wore a powdered wig, different than his usual style which was of his natural brunette hair, just tied back and curled. The wig was simple, quite eloquent, but not to the point of pomposity. He wore a nice baby blue waistcoat trimmed with silver lining, and breeches that match. He wore a frilly lace cravat that neatly lined his chest, and on his legs wore some white stockings and a black shoe, which is simple enough except for the diamond breeches. His outfit was fit for a ball; very simple but was fit for everyone's attentions.
Admiring himself in the mirror, he heard quick footsteps coming from the house's grand staircase. The footsteps were heavy and quick; definitely a male's. "Oi, Alexander!" the man descending the stairs called out. Alexander turned to the man to see his childhood playmate and a close family friend, Spencer Holloway. Spencer was standing a few feet in front of him, clad in a maroon waistcoat embroidered with gold with breeches that match and a pair of red slippers. He wore a simple hairdo, just his natural brown locks tied back and styled, which was outrageously informal for a ball, but Spencer has always been that way - informal. Informal, brass, and arrogant. It is expected that a man like Spencer should not be admired in society, but it is the opposite. How he does it, Alexander doesn't know.
"Looking quite dashing tonight, Spencer," Alexander says politely, eyeing the gold that lines his outfit. "And you too, Alex," Spencer says, "those diamond breeches sure cost a thousand guineas or so, I'd wager." Alexander laughs in response. "Of course, of course, Spencer," he says. "But we must go now, my friend, or else we'll be late, and you know Lady Stirling does not have a liking to those who do so." Spencer nods, and with that, they had entered the carriage that was waiting for them in front of the house.
The author might use this time to describe what exactly is Spencer's relationship with Alexander. Spencer Holloway is the son of a Mr. Richard Holloway, the younger son of some Baron who had quite a lot of money that nobody quite knows the source of. Baron Holloway was quite friendly with Alexander's grandfather, George, and had made their children playmates, which in turn had made those children made their children playmates. Like Alexander, Spencer had an overshadowing older brother who had died prematurely, to which they bonded over. Spencer was very much unlike Alexander, but of course, opposites attract.
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STIRLING HOUSE, LONDON
A footman opened the door of the carriage in which Alexander and Spencer sat in for the past half hour. Alexander nodded at the footman, gently stepping out of the carriage, and waiting patiently for Spencer to do the same. Spencer came out rather quickly, ignoring the footman, and jumped out marveling at the building in front of him. Stirling house was built somewhen in the early parts of the century, built as a huge townhouse where the Stirlings lodged. Tonight, it is very much bedazzling - lights were flashing from its windows, from chandeliers or candles, one might guess, laughter and chatter coming from the building. There was a faint sound of music somewhere inside, which had probably been very much eclipsed by the chattering.
YOU ARE READING
THE HARLOT OF EASTFORD HOUSE
Tarihi KurguENGLAND, 1778. Lord Alexander Harridan is, to almost all of polite society, perfect. A respectable and wealthy family, a good social standing, intelligent, polite, and, most importantly, heir to the dukedom of Walmouth. He is perfect, and he knows (...