She wanted so much to ask him what the rest of his thoughts were; both gentlemen had been nothing but kind and even jovial when she’d met them but it was obvious something was bothering Dory, and despite their newly rekindled friendship…she trusted him. Within the span of an inhale she realized that and it struck her like a spell out of nowhere. Perhaps she didn’t trust him with her heart anymore - at least that’s what she told herself - but his opinion mattered to her. It mattered even more now that she saw the restraint he was obviously exercising.

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but a squeeze of her hand from him saw her close it. His low voice reached her easily as they whirled about the floor with the other couples, causing a series of chills to ripple down her spine. They were too close for her to stare directly up at him, so her gaze landed on his jawline. She could see the pulse of his heartbeat there. In a fit of madness, Mabel had the sudden urge to lean forward press her lips to that point. And in the next moment she had furiously chased the thought from her mind just as he leaned closer, ever so slightly. He had no right garnering that type of reaction from her. Mabel’s cheeks flushed once more as she swallowed and nodded mutely. How was she supposed to respond in any sort of fashion when her mind had immediately been spirited away to places it had no business being?

What are you most hoping for in this new year? he’d asked.

Most hoping for…

Again, her answer got caught in her throat. Should she answer truthfully? That the thing she wanted was to truly mend their friendship this year, that she wanted to clear the air between them about what had happened with him and Winnie, and that she wanted to put it behind her? “I’d like to see my friends more often this year, I think.” She found the response eventually, but Lord did she have to dig for it. Her voice came out breathless. “Rowan for example,” She said of their mutual friend. “She’s been distracted as of late. I’d like to connect with her more. And…there are more, of course.”

  

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The pause before her response alarmed him slightly. To him, the question had been innocent, a varied version of the same question everyone was asking tonight. Dory hadn't thought it would be one she might struggle to answer, and when she did he immediately began wondering about the possible resolutions she might be clinging to. The obvious, to him anyway, was marriage, but with their friendship still so fragile he could understand not mentioning it. (Not to mention, if she began discussing marriage within earshot of Coyle Dory might have lost his composure.)

When she eventually settled upon one (seeing friends, his stress lowered some. Surely, she meant him as well even if she couldn't say as much in this setting? "Rowan, of course." Dory echoed with a chuckle. "And Miss MacFusty too, I'd imagine? Any others?" He was teasing now, though his tone was still low enough that he hoped no others would overhear.

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beautiful set by lady

She saw the effect her response had on him, or at least before she had answered, and yet again wanted so desperately to know what he had thought. This entire night might as well have been a trial into testing Mabel how patient she was to reacquaint herself with her long-lost friend, and the truth of the matter was that she was failing miserably. She wanted to jump right back into poking and prodding him for answers but that wasn’t how it was supposed to be anymore. She didn’t have any more right to his thoughts than he had to hers.

She pushed out a laugh. “Yes, Tilda too, I hear she’s doing quite well at the Abbey and with rehabilitating her creatures. And Mr. Berkwood too, given that he doesn't kill himself on accident before the first month is up!” But she didn’t want to talk about Harry or Tilda or Rowan, and she had a feeling Dory didn’t want to either. His last question betrayed his interest to her, despite his playful tone. “Of course. I’ve just become reacquainted with someone recently and I think it should prove quite enjoyable in the new year.” That was all she dared say, but she hoped her coyness would express the words she couldn’t as the song came to a close.

  

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"Don't hold out too much hope for Mr. Berkwood," Dory joked. The potioneer was a considerable concern of hers years ago, that he'd survived this long was a stroke of luck. Well, luck and the help of a certain mediwitch.

To that - Dory allowed himself to draw her in an inch closer as the final chords of the song were struck. It was a risk to the fragile peace they'd established to push the boundaries of respectability, but the coy smile on her lips had caused him to lose all sense. There were only seconds left now until he was due to part from her anyway. The light touch of her palm on his would have to sustain him for the rest of the night.

"I have every hope it will be," Dory then answered, his statement sounding more like a promise than a mere hope. Then, a beat later he added, "For now, I believe this is where I have to leave you."

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   Mabel Brighton

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beautiful set by lady

His response held multitudes; a revelation that he knew exactly what she was thinking and that he had the same wishes for the incoming months. Mabel wanted to say more, but the music softened, came to an end and with that so did their conversation. Their short, filled with things left unsaid conversation. Instead of drawing closer, she had to step back further and dip a curtsey to him as the couples parted ways. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Fisk,” Mabel parroted the rest of the women around her, catching one last glimpse of him before they had to part ways.

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   Dorian Fisk

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Miss Brighton’s dance concluded as it should have with Mr. Fisk and happily they seemed to go their separate ways. Coyle made sure to keep his distance from her from then on; they’d had enough to go off of to report back positively and Chetwode was still zeroing in on a flowery doe-eyed debutante who seemed to be entirely in her own little world. He eventually kept his word though and circled back to Miss Brighton later that night, seemingly charming her with a very lively dance and leaving her laughing at the end of it.

It was when the clock was about to strike midnight that he circled back around to the blue-eyed healer, finding her conversing with a familiar raven-haired friend. “Miss Brighton,” He bowed as he was introduced to her friend - Miss Yaxley - though he’d already heard enough about her; however neither of them were to know that. It was Miss Yaxley who had been involved in the death of a man somewhere on the lower rungs that Coyle couldn’t possibly bring himself to care about, but he found himself intrigued all the same.

“I came to wish you a happy new year, Miss Brighton,” Coyle let uncharacteristic warmth flood his features. “And to express my wish that we might see more of each other in the future.” And with the echoes of the clock striking midnight around them, he sketched a bow, pressing his lips to the back of her gloved hand.

Yes, he hoped to see a lot more of her, and soon.

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