July 9th, 1891 — Emrys' Home, Bristol
Emrys had learned his lesson from prior attempts. He hadn't become as successful as he had, both in his shipping business and with his private investments, by not taking note of and learning from his own mistakes. He wasn't new to seduction, of course, but this was a different brand of seduction, and with a different purpose. Instead of showering Miss Cosgrove with compliments from the moment she'd arrived, he'd given only one or two demure remarks, then he'd spent most of the opening conversation exchanging dialogue with her chaperone. He was walking a thin line here, because women (or men, when they were on the receiving end of someone's affections) wanted to feel as though they were the center of attention, the only thing that brought light into the room. Chaperones, he had deduced, wanted proof that the gentleman in question had the capacity for respectability; they didn't want to believe him a devilish rogue who might pass the woman over for the next pretty face that wandered by. So Emrys was perfectly respectable, and perfectly polite, and the conversation passed perfectly well — and any time he thought he could get away with it, he'd pepper in something to keep Miss Cosgrove's attention. A quick mischievous glance, a flash of a smile, or maybe a line ostensibly directed at the chaperone but which Miss Cosgrove would understand as an inside joke, referencing their last conversation or one of their letters. This opening conversation was important to set the groundwork, he thought. The chaperone might seem like no one particular, but if Miss Cosgrove's family didn't trust her (and her judgement) they wouldn't have entrusted her with safeguarding their daughter's virtue. Impressing the chaperone would pay off in the long run, no matter if she was a scullery maid or the Queen of England herself.
Having fulfilled his duties in that regard after the first cup of tea had been served and consumed, however, Emrys was eager to have some time to interact with Miss Cosgrove in (relative) privacy.
"I would ask if the house lives up to your expectations, Miss Cosgrove, but I'm afraid you've seen so little of it," he said smoothly, discarding his empty tea cup and rising from the chair he'd been seated in. "Shall I offer you a tour?" A partial tour, anyway. Emrys didn't actually show people his house, most of the time — he was too fond of his secrets to put something as personal as his living space on display. But there was a pageantry to this sort of thing, so there was a rather large section of the house that was primed and ready for her to see it, and it wasn't as though a respectable gentleman ought to be offering tours of their bedroom, anyway.
Having fulfilled his duties in that regard after the first cup of tea had been served and consumed, however, Emrys was eager to have some time to interact with Miss Cosgrove in (relative) privacy.
"I would ask if the house lives up to your expectations, Miss Cosgrove, but I'm afraid you've seen so little of it," he said smoothly, discarding his empty tea cup and rising from the chair he'd been seated in. "Shall I offer you a tour?" A partial tour, anyway. Emrys didn't actually show people his house, most of the time — he was too fond of his secrets to put something as personal as his living space on display. But there was a pageantry to this sort of thing, so there was a rather large section of the house that was primed and ready for her to see it, and it wasn't as though a respectable gentleman ought to be offering tours of their bedroom, anyway.
Lou made this! <3