February 12th, 1891 — Sonata #7, De Montfault Theater, High Street

The acrobats and contortionists had been his idea. Not that anyone in the audience would know that. He was one of a small pool of patrons for tonight's event, and one of the privileges of patronage was that one could occasionally make suggestions to influence the course of the work one was sponsoring. It was hard to say no, he knew, when he was already footing the bill for half the orchestra and was prepared to fund the contortionists, too. The evening was still early enough that he hadn't heard anyone comment on their performance, yet, but he still considered it money well spent, if only because it would give him something interesting to look at during moments when he felt he needed to get away from all the fucking debutantes.

Playing nice was no fun. The idea of sticking around in a conversation long enough to woo one of these ladies was making him nauseous. Which made no sense; it was not as though he was a stranger to society, or to putting on a charming face for pretty ladies. He'd sweet-talked a handful into his bedroom in the past... but somehow the spectre of marriage hanging over his head had taken all the enjoyment out of the conversations. The idea that one of these women might be living in his house was...

Ugh. If only there was some other way to get rid of pesky rumors, but the diviner had been quite clear (as clear, anyway, as diviners ever are), and if his conversation with Mrs. Lestrange was any indication, people had already started to talk. He couldn't abide that. So... once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.

(It was a shame that morbid poet he'd forced to dance with him last summer was a halfblood; he might have considered proposing just to see the look of horror on her face).

He scanned the crowd, saw an unfamiliar face, and approached as she was picking up a small plate of bite-sized refreshments. "I wouldn't eat the fish," he recommended. "It's not fresh. They ought to have gone with something more seasonable, but —" he shrugged emphatically. "Musicians; they have such decided tastes."

  

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Lou made this! <3

The opera was thus far the most enjoyable evening she had had since reentering society. Verity possessed a lifelong affection for music — specifically complex instrumental arrangements. She had little patience for singers, likely because it was a talent she failed at herself, but nevertheless could still appreciate their value at times. Tonight was no exception. Verity watched in awe as the musicians played, stepping away only as Mother sought to retrieve some refreshments.

Her plate had only a single bite on it when the warning came, causing Verity to immediately regret picking it up at all. If the fish wasn't fresh, then what was skimped upon? "Musicians, indeed," she answered as she spared the table one last glance and turned to the man. "I appreciate the warning, Mister ..." For how well dressed he was, he had to be wealthy, though why she didn't instantly recognize him as she did the many other bachelors she didn't know.

  

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set by mj

He had a sudden and entirely inappropriate urge to give her a fake name in response, but bit it back. "Selwyn," he said with a passably charming smile. It was as though he was going stir-crazy in his own mind; his impulses were looking for ways to sabotage him before this got out of hand and he ended up past the point of no return.

Now that he was closer, he realized she was younger than he'd first guessed. There might not have been a large difference in maturity between twenty and twenty-three, in theory, but at least in theory there was an equally insignificant gap between seventeen and twenty — which made a woman like this just slightly round the corner from being a child. Oh, well. It was too late to cut and run now, at least not without seeming rude, which was what he was trying to avoid. Besides, maybe there was some benefit to being seen having close conversations with eligible women even if it amounted to nothing.

Presuming, of course, she was eligible. Surely she was too young to be married already?

"I could hardly stand by and say nothing and doom you to a stomach ache just at the heart of the performance. I'm a gentleman, Miss —?" he said, letting his voice drift off into a question; fishing.

  

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Lou made this! <3

Immediately following the giving of his name, Verity realized just who she was talking to — the last remaining very eligible Selwyn brother. Had he noticed the delicate charm work she'd put into her gown that evening, then? Or perhaps it was that she'd forced their maid to pull her waist in even tighter than normal. Surely, Mr. Selwyn didn't approach random debutantes to warn them about fish. No, something drew him to her, and now she had to ensure he remained ensnared.

"Greengrass," she offered with a demure smile. In any other scenario she would've offered her first name as well, seeing as Grace was set to debut in just a few short months, but a little mystery would hopefully serve her well. "I would so hate to miss the show, it's been delightful performance thus far. Might I ask your opinion on what I might enjoy if not the fish?"

  

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set by mj

Greengrass. He knew nothing about them, he didn't think. Normally, this might have been cause to dismiss the girl; if her family had never reached his notice they must not have been particularly interesting. On the other hand, for this particular task, being uninteresting would work in his favor. That was the ideal, wasn't it? Some perfectly ordinary young debutante whom no one could possibly say a word against and with whom people might feasibly believe he was smitten. Ugh. He might, sooner or later, have to pretend to be smitten. That was decidedly less work than just being charming; he had practice being charming, when he wanted something from someone. He had no practice at all pretending to be in love. (Well, unless one counted his occasional forays into replying to the Witch Weekly Lonely Hearts column under pseudonyms, but it wasn't quite the same; with those he was always trying to take one more step towards ridiculousness and see whether or not his letter-writing partner would follow).

"Well, a canape at least won't unsettle your stomach," he said, indicating the small bits of pastry with olive spread atop. Nothing could have been more mild, and since there wasn't anything to cook it was impossible that anything was undercooked. "I'm partial to the ostrich-egg quiches, but they're not to everyone's taste. I'm glad to hear you've been enjoying the performance," he continued, switching topics; food was not particularly interesting and if he had to stay here, he was at least going to talk about the acrobats he'd paid for. "Have you had a chance to see much of it, so far, or have the gentlemen been keeping you busy out here?"

  

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Lou made this! <3

Canape was, quite frankly, disgusting and that they were Mr. Selwyn's first suggestion was disappointing. The ostrich egg quiches were at least interesting, so that redeemed him a bit. Not that his taste preferences mattered much in the scheme of things, seeing as she would eat a bull's testicles if it meant securing her place in the world. Short of betraying her family, there was little she wouldn't do.

Verity was beginning to suspect Mr. Selwyn had more invested in tonight's performance than she was aware of. How else would he have such intimate knowledge of the refreshemnts? And to say he was glad? It was such a peculiar word choice. It wasn't as though they'd met prior to this conversation, so he couldn't have any knowledge of her likes or dislikes. How bizarre.

"Quite busy," she fibbed. That he was the first gentleman she had the pleasure of speaking with that evening was a fact he needn't know. "I saw only some of the orchestra's performance. They're playing well." The violinist was off key a few times, though that too would remain her own knowledge. "Have you enjoyed much of it?"

  

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set by mj

Emrys shrugged indifferently. "I'm familiar with most of this suite already, so I've been drifting in and out," he explained. Both halves of the statement were true, though the connection between them was more tenuous. He was familiar with the music; he would hardly have agreed to sponsor the composer's new song without knowing at least a little of his work already. And he had been drifting in and out, but that was not so much from a lack of interest in the orchestrations as it was his peculiar social situation at the moment. He was trying to force himself to be actively seen to be conversational, but the idea of just carrying on boring small talk conversations with utterly uninteresting women all night made him feel physically ill in much the same way that he'd warned her the fish might. So he was taking it in doses; a conversation (or half a conversation, if his partner was particularly odious) and then a break to sit back with the music in his gallery seat and watch the acrobatics on stage.

"The dancers on stage are a novel addition," he commented as though he had nothing to do with it. "And I've heard the Sonata itself is rather brilliant, from a few people who ought to know." He'd heard it himself, in fact, but couldn't say so without seeming to boast about his patronage, which wasn't really the point of this conversation.

  

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Lou made this! <3

The dancers on the stage ... had she taken note of any dancers yet? There were a few beginning to enter when Mother and she stepped out but they hadn't yet performed anything truly spectacular. They must've had something planned, though, for Mr. Selwyn to feel comfortable commenting upon the performance. (It also solidified her belief that he had more to do with tonight's show than she knew.) Not daring to look towards the entrance to the theater, Verity decided to comment instead upon the first half of his response. "You're familiar with this composition?" She asked lightly. "I believed it to be the debut."

However, she knew she couldn't allow the dancers to go wholly unaddressed. Not when he made such a point of mentioning them. Merlin, what to say, though? Unlike her blunder with Mrs. Devine, Verity knew she couldn't ruin this chance too. Mrs. Devine was already a wife who, presumably, operated in whispers and gossip. That nothing had yet been said about her character meant Mrs. Devine didn't find her notable enough to comment upon. Mr. Selwyn, though, he was an elibile bachelor with connections everywhere. Should they be seen dancing, well, she could very well have five more suitors by morning.

"The dancers were dressed peculiarly, though I must confess to being pulled away before being granted the opportunity to watch." She decided on eventually.

  

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set by mj

"It is the debut," he answered with a nod, taking another small plate from the concessions table and popping a few of the miniature quiches onto it. Since they were still standing here, he might as well. "I'm acquainted with the conductor, who's been practicing it all week. He speaks quite highly of the piece." Or Emrys assumed he would, anyway. He was acquainted with the conductor, because he'd previously slept with him, but they hadn't actually spoken in the past two months, so they certainly hadn't exchanged opinions on Sonata #7. Actually, come to think of it, how had they left things off? Emrys had no particular intention of renewing the relationship prior to this evening, which was why he hadn't spoken to him at all during the lead-up to this event, but after tonight he might be in desperate need of a chance to blow off some steam. The conductor might not have been the best partner Emrys ever had, but at least he was discreet.

But he probably shouldn't run about sleeping with men until he'd gotten the potential rumor situation under control, since that had been the entire impetus for this endeavor.

Maybe there was another way to address things, rather than marrying. Would people stop talking about him if he got caught in the act with a woman, maybe? There were plenty of opportune places in a theater like this, though he wasn't sure who a good target might be. The woman in question would be ruined forever, of course, so any of his recurring affair partners were off the table. And presumably anyone new would take a little more convincing than he could manage in one conversation.

"I thought their costumes were quite striking," Emrys commented, turning his eyes to survey the rest of the crowd around them as his thoughts continued to wander. "But I had the benefit of seeing them in motion. Dancers can really only be observed in motion, I think; they look silly otherwise. It's just not the way they were designed to be."

  

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Lou made this! <3

Speaking of the music and listening to it were two separate entities, though perhaps Mr. Selwyn didn't have the same appreciation for a stunning composition as she. Either way, Verity wouldn't force the conversation there. "As he should," she said. "It's quite beautiful thus far." She wouldn't have left her seat if the expectation to socialize didn't exist.

"You seem quite educated on dancers, Mr. Selwyn. Have you attended many operas?" She asked innocently. Such performances were rarely put on in Hogsmeade, but perhaps he was a well traveled man. (He was also old, so the chances of him having the opportunities to attend were plentiful.)

  

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set by mj

Emrys shrugged. "Enough to have formed some opinions," he supplied vaguely. Opera was not particularly his forte; sopranos could be stuffy, and there wasn't enough movement on the stage to captivate his attention. It was better than doing nothing at home, but given any alternative he would preferred to have done something else.

He was getting bored of this conversation, and wondered if he'd endured it long enough that he could leave without seeming too rude. Maybe, but he would need an excuse. He scanned the crowd again and his eyes lit on an investing connection. "Oh, excuse me, Miss," (what was her name again?) "Greengrass. Business calls," he said, with a vague nod towards the other gentleman.

  

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Lou made this! <3