April 6th, 1891 - The Cruise Ship Santa Antonina

Her dress for the evening was one of Madame Rose’s constructions, light blue and low-cut enough to almost be daring. She’d spent much of the afternoon in the cabin working on her hair with Bellona, ensuring that it was up in an extravagant braided updo.

The point of the cruise had been to see the world, not to see men — except that of course there were men on the boat, and one of those men was Mr. Prewett, and so now the point was for him to see her and how desirable she was.

Camilla waited three songs to seek him out, knocking the remainder of her wine glass before she went to approach him.

“Mr. Prewett,” Camilla said, with the wry smile she’d reserved for him when they ran into one another on the boat. She held out her hand, expecting him to ask her to dance even though he had not had a chance to respond yet.

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A small part of Fitzroy had been worried that he would be missing out, somehow, by attending the two-week voyage but early glimpses at the guests aboard the Santa Antonina had quickly allayed these fears. He needed some time away, after all, and the only thing better than a vacation was a vacation surrounded by pretty faces.

(Some belonged to his cousins, which was less than ideal, but at least his mother had been nowhere in sight!)

Fitz had resolved himself to spend limited time with the women who caught his interest, or else spend a great deal of time with every woman, so as not to give any false illusions about his intentions towards them.

Especially (though he wasn’t certain which part of that was “especially”) Camilla Zabini.

He had, by and large, ignored her in the weeks following their interlude, lest she expect a proposal to follow. As time wore on, though, he had begun to warm to the idea of her once more (though he had never cooled to the idea of her after dark…) and he had reasserted himself appropriately at recent events. They had, of course, encountered one another on more than one occasion since the voyage went underway—often, though he would not admit it, orchestrated by Fitz himself. It was she, however, that sought him out this evening, a delightful turn of events.

”Miss Zabini,” he greeted in return, taking the proffered hand and noting first the marvellous cut of her dress and, next, the decided absence of any of the other Zabinis from her immediate vicinity. Politely, he brushed her fingertips with his lips, lingering a fracture longer than would be considered appropriate to most before he relinquished her hand once more.

”I had expected to see you on the dance floor—don’t tell me the men here are too foolish to have asked? No—” he corrected himself swiftly with a flirtatious wink, ”more likely they are too foolish to have been accepted. I hope I do not fall into either category?”

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   Reuben Crouch

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Camilla shivered at the extended touch of his lips to her fingers; she did not make a habit out of shivering at the slightest touch from men, but Mr. Prewett was an exception, with his arms and his wink and his general level of attractiveness.

She tilted her head just slightly so as to better highlight the curve of her neck. ”No, those are not categories I would use for you,” Camilla said, with a wry smile.

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   Reuben Crouch

”Then I must inquire,” he answered, eyes tracing the line of her neck. It was a fine neck, longer than that of most debs, but in a most becoming way. ”Have you space on your dance card for me? Or have you...tired of the dancefloor this evening? If the latter, I would, of course, be duty bound to walk you back to your cabin.”

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   Reuben Crouch

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Camilla had planned to insist that Mr. Prewett dance with her, but the concept of going for a walk with him was also… appealing. They could kiss again, and that would be sure to solidify his interest, and if she bored of being in her cabin she could come back to the dance floor without much notice. ”I believe that I have become a little too acquainted with the dance floor,” she said, ”Since you have so gallantly offered your services in escorting me, I will accept the offer.”

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   Reuben Crouch

"You must lead the way,” he directed with a self-satisfied smile, hand gesturing for her to do so, as though he didn’t know the location of the cabin she shared with her sister, didn’t know it was directly across from her brother’s own—and on the opposite end of the ship’s more genteel quarters from his own. An inconvenience, to be sure, though one that had allowed him a great deal of leeway without risking upset to Miss Zabini on the voyage thus far.

  

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Camilla tucked her arm into Mr. Prewett’s and led him out of the room, into the hallway, and towards her own cabin. ”I trust you’ve found the journey to your liking so far?” she asked, less because she suspected otherwise and more to fill the small talk as they walked. She wanted him to kiss her again, but did not know how to ask — and perhaps that would better wait until they were nearby her cabin and likely to be seen by no one at all.

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The closeness of her briefly set his nerves on edge. It was not the closest they had been by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something about the confines of a ship, the isolation of being at sea, that made the matter seem more risky than usual. Not that Fitz was in any way averse to risk, of course—but still, he cast a quick eye about the room to find Matilda safely ensconced in conversation and not looking at them at all as they left the ballroom.

”It has been…diverting,” he answered carefully, the sounds from the ballroom still echoing even as the pair rounded a corner. Unlike the quarters for the less affluent, the cabins for the wealthier guests lay well above the water line, prompting the pair to actually ascend a set of stairs. “One might even say freeing, in some ways,” the wizard added.

  

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Diverting, freeing — both were interesting choices of word, particularly with the emphasis which Mr. Prewett had used them with. ”And what freedoms have you found on the sea?” Camilla asked, quirking her eyebrow at him. She could still hear the ballroom, but the sound of it was significantly dimmer now.

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The pair rounded another corner; Fitz waited a beat to ensure this corridor was empty before giving Miss Zabini his answer.

“This,” he breathed headily, pushing her against a closed door door before claiming her lips with his own.

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   Ruby Urquart

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Camilla made a pleased little sound in the back of her throat as Mr. Prewett pushed her against the door. She leaned upwards to kiss him back — she had refamiliarized herself with any books she had involving kissing since the first time — and twined her arms around his shoulders, making an appreciative note in her head once again re: his arms.

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The downside to this change in position was that there was solid wood where Fitz wanted his hands to be. Instead, the wizard made do with clamping one around the back of her neck to hold her to him, his other grappling with the knob on the door behind her.

  

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The door to the room she shared with Bellona sprang open at Mr. Prewett’s grappling, and Camilla took a step backwards into the room, keeping her hands on his shoulders and her lips pressed to his as she backed up. This was an unprecedented level of privacy, and she had not conceptualized the reality of their isolation, although some part of her was calculating it.

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As luck would have it—Fitz had been too busy doing solid work with his tongue to pay attention to their locale—the cabin revealed proved to be that of the Zabini sisters, eliminating any risk of accidentally stumbling upon Rufina or someone equally judgmental.

“It seems,”, Fitz teased after pulling away just enough to speak, “that I have fulfilled my promise to see you safely to your cabin. Here, a gentleman ought to bid you goodnight.”

It was not framed as a question, but his eyebrows raised in question nonetheless.

  

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The difference between this and one of her novels was that in novels, the woman was not supposed to want it. She kept her hands on his shoulders even as he pulled away, eyeing the still-open door behind him, and very aware of the risks.

”And if you weren’t a gentleman?” Camilla asked, raising her eyebrows at him in turn.

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   Ruby Urquart

“By the time I did leave, you would be begging me not to,” he murmured before returning to her mouth.

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   Reuben Crouch, Ruby Urquart

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