Strange Meetings Over a Fine Meal

[authorflies]

    There was always a strange comfort that came with the end of the day. For one, it meant that Eloise could finally settle into her writing, be it practice, her novel, or perhaps even a letter, it was still something and something that she enjoyed quite a bit. More than that, though, unless there was some event that tore them all away, it meant that the entire Bridgerton family would gather together at the dinner table and discuss their day, their thoughts, and more likely than not get in some kind of argument. It was her family and she adored their company and conversation, no matter how loud and chaotic it might have been. 

    With the marriage season ongoing they seemed to happen less and less now, and whatever free moment she had, Eloise spent pouring her every thought into writing, usually only snapping out of her head and rushing down the stairs when one of her siblings had called out, not moving to wash the ink from her hands just yet. She had already started to ramble before she got to the bottom of the steps, her words moving just as quick as her step. 

    "Did any of you read the latest Whistledown? I am currently rereading it in order to catch a hint on what position she must hold. Further I have been trying to gather who she talks about the most because whoever said family is, she ought to be either from said family or perhaps she despises them, or works for them... In any case, I do believe that it will be a clue. There has to be something that is hidden within the page. Furthermore I do believe-" Her words trailed off as she looked and saw the stranger in her room, a strange feeling that was not embarrassment or shame but not kind filling her. She swallowed and clasped her hands together in attempts to hide the ink, smiling just a little. Though her hands might have been shielded for a moment, there was no hiding her curiosity or confusion, though, not from her voice or eyes.  "Good evening. Who might you be?" She could practically hear mother in her head scolding her for improper manners, but in the moment she cared little, nor did she think that she should apologize instead trying to piece together who this was and if she had forgotten something, such as this man being invited over for dinner. 

Tag : ~Lewis Anwyl~
Note : Hopefully this is alright! Let me know if you would like me to edit anything. I! am so excited!!!

[Lewis Anwyl]

THE   CAUSE   YOU   ARE   SUPPORTING IS  NOT  OUR  CAUSE,  BUT  YOURS tagged authorflies

Anyone who had known Lewis Anwyl for more than five minutes knew that the man was not exactly comfortable in most social situations. At best, he was simply quiet, awkward, and a little stiff in manners; at worst, he could manage to offend half the event’s attendees within half an hour. The larger the event in question, the worse things tended to be. Balls, by far, were the worst — they demanded not only the usual polite conversation, but the added complication of dances. Lewis had been foolish enough, at first, to assume that the only thing to worry about with dancing was the footwork, but it had not taken him long to learn that choosing the right partner mattered just as much, if not more. By the time he had fumbled his way through the first few balls of this season, he found himself almost longing for the simpler social engagements.

It had been somewhat of a relief, therefore, when Anthony Bridgerton had extended this invitation to dinner. Dinner, compared to a ball, was a relatively tame affair; he thoroughly expected that he would still have to engage in mind-numbing small talk and other such pleasantries, but at least dancing would not be part of the equation. Besides, of all the noble families in London, he found the Bridgertons to be the most bearable of the lot. Anthony could be somewhat intimidating, but Benedict had proven to be rather pleasant company — truth be told, a part of Lewis was rather curious to meet the rest of the family.

He had not expected his first introduction to a Bridgerton sister to be quite so… chaotic. When Anthony had left Lewis alone in the main hall, he had counted on a moment or two to survey his surroundings and compose his thoughts, but the sudden descent of rapid footsteps and the excited babbling that accompanied them dashed all hopes of either luxury. For a moment, he could only stare dumbly at the young woman, who looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her. When he finally found his voice again, he dipped forward into a stiff bow and managed to reply, “Mr. Lewis Anwyl. I thought— Well, I presumed your brother would have… mentioned my invitation. To dinner, that is.”

OWL