[Annabelle Beacham (Betsy)]

Miss Annabelle Beacham could scarcely believe the enormity of the city as the Beaumont carriage rattled through the streets. As there was no hurry on returning to Beaumont House, she'd told the driver to take his time. With her face pressed up against the window, she watched the passersby in their elegant attire and the massive houses and buildings.

"Oh! There must be no place like London in the whole world!" She spoke to no one in particular, though Sophie and Agatha were also in the carriage. "Lud! I hope you've written down everything, for I can scarcely remember! Well it's no matter, anything I forget can be sent for I am certain. And an excuse for another trip to the modistes would be welcome enough. Ah! Here we are!"

The coach had stopped outside the ribbon shoppe, first stop on the list. The storefront was charm itself, with lengths of the latest styles on display, along with a variety of applications for bonnets and gowns. A footman lighted to the door to hand her out, but practically had to catch the girl, whose feet had practically grown wings. She lingered on the sidewalk, staring up and down the grand avenue, wonder and delight written across her face.

The wind took its opportunity. Her bonnet strings were not tied fast enough, and a sudden gust ripped the silk confection right off her head, sending it scuttling down the street. "Oh Lord!" In an instant, and without a thought to the potential danger, Belle took off - after all, it was her favorite, and newly trimmed for town. "Miss!" Agatha took off after her young charge, as did Sophie, and the eight footmen in Beaumont livery.

Belle hadn't been in town three hours, and already she was running down Bond Street after a renegade bonnet.


((ooc: open to any and all who might want to meet the newly-arrived Miss Beacham!))

[William Gosling (Alexandra)]

The effect of scotch consumed an hour ago in the warm, smoky confines of White’s (before his friend had been so rudely ejected) had faded to a dull, pleasant buzz that made a windy London vaguely more interesting and vaguely warmer than it could seem to a completely stone sober mind.

William now planned to return dutifully home for a while. Though he would not admit it, he was curious to see how Nicholas had gotten on calling on his new little minx. He was also ravenous, a feeling which often turned his steps home towards the Goslings’ truly excellent kitchen staff.

However, he was in no real hurry and so detoured through Green Park (where he half-heartedly threw a few stones at some far too complacent ducks – no substitute for hunting), along Piccadilly and ended up near Bond with some half formed idea of seeing his tailor in the fashionable Burlington Gardens area. Once outside the establishment, however, his enthusiasm for the errand faded as he gazed through the windows and took in the sight of Lord Bateman and his two foppish sons fussing about with the with the equally foppish sales assistant and some sort of heinous pastel blue cloth. He was in no humour to play nice. He kept walking.

This seemed to the decision that fate had in mind for him, for the first thing that greeted Will as he turned the corner into Bond St was a projectile of silk and straw, scuttling towards him across the road and making a mess of lunchtime traffic.

When the thing came close he stamped on it. As he bent to retrieve the object he realised stamping might not have been the most judicious option for the object revealed itself to be a lady’s bonnet. A bonnet with a now slightly squashed (though completely repairable) brim. William glanced up, guiltily, to look about for its owner.

He then wondered how he could have missed this in the first place: charging towards him were no less than eight footmen in familiar livery chasing a flustered girl dressed like a ladies’ maid and, taking pride of place and leading the flock, a radiant blonde creature. Without her bonnet.

Surely, caricaturists lie awake at night and dream of such scenes occuring for them to sketch? This scene needed no caricaturist's pen to render it droll.

“Yours?” he suggested dryly, dangling the hat as the horde stopped before him as one.

[Annabelle Beacham (Betsy)]

Belle let out a gasp and ground to a halt as she saw a gentleman turn a corner and stomp directly onto her bonnet. The rest of the party put on the brakes behind her, jostling so as not to run the girl over. She could hardly hide the dismay on her face at the inevitable damage that must have been done to the bonnet.

Still, she had gotten it back, and certainly it could be repaired. Agatha was grumbling angrily behind her, but Belle strode forward to thank the gentlemen for his effective, if deleterious, stopping of the renegade bonnet. He certainly was a dashing fellow - tall, and the cut of his clothing was good, meaning that he might be respectable. There was something a bit sardonic about him, a kind of laughter she detected behind his eyes, though not directed at her. She drew herself up, hoping she looked respectable despite the run she had just taken down the street.

"Thank you, sir, for rescuing my bonnet, I'm afraid I am indebted to you." She reached out and took her bonnet from where it dangled from his fingers, suddenly caring little for the damage to the brim, and more concerned about the gentleman who stood before her.

[William Gosling (Alexandra)]

"Hardly," William corrected her with a shake of his dark head, nodding down at the sorry state of the hat. The wide-eyed bonnetless blonde was just as pretty stationary as she had been in motion. She was also in slight disarray from the brief dash. This was a rare look on a Society princess and he found it alluring. There were, however, ways to attain such a state that were immeasurably more pleasing than leading a jog down Bond.

"You need faster footmen," he told the lady, his gaze trailing along along the line of her servants with a distinctly unimpressed air. He could not fail now to recognise the insignia emblazoned on the servants as that of Beaumont. William was aware that Nicholas counted the matching duke and duchess (and the resultant toddling little heirs) as particular friends of his and even William did not turn his nose up at an invitation to Beaumont House. This was a new addition to the house's charms: if you had been there long at all we would - doubtless - be aquainted, he thought of the sprinting blonde with a private smile. She was a singlular type to set off running rather than to lazily signal the footman with one finger.

Knowing that his actions would be reported back to Lady Beaumont, William was on best behaviour. At least for now.

[Annabelle Beacham (Betsy)]

Belle took her eyes away from him to look down at the bonnet to which he nodded. She frowned softly. "Oh yes...oh dear." She inspected the poor bedraggled thing a bit closer. The wire was bent, and some of the flowers looked like they had been through a tumble, but it would survive. "Well, thankfully we were headed to the milliner's this afternoon anyhow. I'm sure it will all be put to right easily enough."

She looked up to see him regarding her with a slow, secretive smile, and she felt her cheeks turning pink. It seemed as if he knew something she did not. He remarked on the servants behind her, and she realized the footmen were all dressed in Beaumont livery. She hoped he wasn't a friend of Daphne's - or worse, that he might go about telling everyone that the Duchess's relations were the type to lose their bonnets on Bond Street.

"I'm not sure if they need to be faster, or if I need to move more slowly." She let out a wry laugh. Always acting before thinking, no matter how many times she'd been admonished by nurses, governesses and her father not to be so impetuous.

Still, this gentleman seemed kind enough, and she cast him a smile, hoping to deflect any mental judgement he made on her character with confidence.

[William Gosling (Alexandra)]

Nothing seemed to faze her. William wondered whether she would be quite so buoyant was she not quite so pretty nor quite so rich as to see a lost hat as merely an opportunity to buy a new one. Doubtful.

“Your athletic ability is a compliment to you.” He bowed low and refused to meet her gaze as he rose. He had yet to offer her a name and was somewhat reluctant to do so – no need to make it that easy for Lady Beaumont. Besides, he had already played a role in a fist fight and been part foxed in the park before noon. Etiquette could get hanged today. Most days, in fact.

“You are from the country.” It was certainly not a question, more a pleased statement of his own findings. Her peachy cheeks, the fresh faced smile and those wide, wide blue eyes all suggested it. The ability to outrun footmen made it highly likely. The inclination to outrun footmen confirmed it. William bit back a grin. How perfectly delightful . And his smile had already made her blush. Too bloody easy.

[Annabelle Beacham (Betsy)]

Annabelle blushed even more furiously as he complimented her and dropped a bow. Definitely part of the Ton - his manners were too unceremoniously graceful without a studied air that would have marked him as a pretender. Well, if it was true, this was better and better by the moment.

She smiled ruefully at his statement - confirmation of her fears. "Is it truly obvious? I only just arrived in Town, to visit my cousin, the Duchess of Beaumont." She gestured with her head to the liveried footmen. Behind her and out of sight, Sophie pursed her lips into a frown. Belle was saying too much to a man who was supposedly a stranger, even if Lord William Gosling was no stranger to the Beaumont house - or to the ears of any gossiping servant.

She did notice that he had not offered his name yet. That was unusual. Belle, always inclined to suspect the best of everyone and never given a reason to think otherwise, assumed that perhaps this was the way it was done in town - after all, there was no one suitable to make an introduction, she being a lady and he being a gentleman.

"You, however, must be in Town much. I would wager on it, with the effortless and unstudied manner you have of catching bonnets in the street in the midst of traffic." Flirting? Belle probably didn't intend to, but with those laughing blue eyes and smirking lips, she might as well have been.

[William Gosling (Alexandra)]

“You are too kind, but my bonnet-catching skills honestly leave a great deal to be desired.” With the mangled bonnet still in her hands, William attempted to smooth the brim back down in vain and then shook his head as if in regret. If she desired a gallant Man About Town then she could have one. He accidently caught the narrowed eye of her maid companion and his bright gaze was almost – but not quite – enough to coax a smile in return. Luckily the maid’s (now, only mildly) disapproving glare was still behind the young lady’s back and quite unable to impact upon her opinion of him. Luckily. He understood that the domestic news channels were efficient. I would so hate for you to spoil her good opinion of me so early in the game.

“May I escort you somewhere?” he enquired, leaving the bonnet and turning up his hands in a questioning gesture. “I have no immediate business to attend to.” As if he ever did. Naturally, he owned various properties about England but these rarely gave him trouble and his estate managers had wide discretions. The younger Gosling rewarded initiative over meticulous reporting. No, his ‘business’ in Town mostly consisted of ‘meetings’ at the Club and ‘meetings’ at the fencing school. Oh, and ‘meetings’ that were better euphemised as assignations.

What with nine servants ready and waiting to take her anywhere she pleased, the idea that the young lady might need or want his arm was quite ludicrous on the face of it. The way his dark eyes danced playfully intimated that he knew this and that he enjoyed the absurdity.

[Annabelle Beacham (Betsy)]

Belle was never one to hide her emotions well. She did not have the reserved air of the more refined ladies of town; chalk it up to country living, being raised without the guidance of a mother, or the overindulgence of a beloved only child by a slightly unstable father. In any case, the gallant offer of an escort was met with a bright smile and a tittering of laughter that tinkled like chimes.

“You are very kind,” she started. Behind her, Agatha let out a low cough – a warning that he may pick up on, but Belle read loud and clear. “However, we are currently unacquainted and I am afraid I have kicked up enough larks today to keep the gossips busy.” There was a suggestive tone at the end of her voice that perhaps, if he were to introduce himself, she might be more willing – and indeed she was, holding her bonnet in her hands, her face all expectation.

“Besides, I certainly doubt that a London gentleman like yourself would be at all interested in visiting the modistes and milliners.” Again, that tone, hoping that he might prove her wrong. Agatha and Sophie were both now rolling their eyes, wondering if the girl could be as green as she truly appeared.

[William Gosling (Alexandra)]

I don't think so...

He studied her a moment, rolling a few answers to her protestations around his mind, his smile suspended halfway to a full blown grin. No , he decided. On the whole it was more fun this way.

“You already seem know me better than I know myself,” William told the lady with chagrin. He was not sure that she intended to flirt with him but she was doing a fine job of it regardless, and he would be a shameless cad not to return in kind. “A London gentleman like myself would probably not have any interest – nor taste - in such things. Better I leave you in more capable hands,” he added with a vaguely deferential nod to the servants.

They would meet again: this Town was rather small and, more importantly, the Beaumont’s list of social engagements was long. Little Miss Athlete here did not know it but she would see him again soon and she might secure her fine introduction then. In the meantime, she would have to wait. There was no doubt in his mind that she would enjoy the wait - and the giddy thoughts and giggling conversation that could fill it. Meanwhile, he could find out who she was and where she had come from. William was a connoisseur of fair haired country girls and would hazard a guess that this one was from far out, never been to London, could ride tolerably well, speak French less well and was an only child without brothers or sisters. Please God let her have no brothers. He had had his fill of bloody brothers for now.