"What in bloo--?" Beatrice let the curse fall short on her lips when she remembered the company she was now instantly keeping and the man that had reached out to steady her. Nose to nose with the shop window glass was a rather firm warning of what might have happened had he not reached out to help her.

Straightening, Lady Howard brushed down the front of her gown and adjusted the button on her pelisse that had slipped free of its hold. At the sound of her name, her reddened lips spread into a bright smile, masking the confusion of moments earlier.

She began a silent assessment of the two people of importance before her. Rarely there came a time when she didn't. She always assessed. It helped to try and decipher where someone was from before putting on the current character of society. If she had run into a street vendor or a 'Covent garden lady', she would know just exactly what air to adapt in their presence.

First Bea took in the gentleman who was quite tall and completely unfamiliar to her. His darker curls could lead one into believing he had rakish qualities, but the true blue of his eyes and his deportment stamped down such an insinuation. Then there was his dress, a detail that made her brow rise. In full uniform, the gentleman looked as if he were born to wear it, and Beatrice noted immediately by the markings on his epaulette that he was a Major. Men of uniform always tended to intrigue Beatrice and she had spent much time at Drury Lane entertaining various militant members as they passed to and from the city. They'd always ranged so much in personality - from stiff as a whip to as 'handsy' as a boat men back from a long trip at sea.

Then came the lady. She was certainly pretty, that could not be denied, and looked untainted by the polluted London air. Not a smudge of soot, or a peppering of sullen ash that some complexions took on over prolonged stays in the city. She herself relied on her many expensive moisturizers and skin exfoliants to keep herself as fresh looking as though she had just stepped out for a country walk. But this girl certainly looked as though she hailed from the country. And what of this large train of footmen? Was she a member of royalty? They weren't in livery - but they were certainly in greater number.

The pretty young girl held proffered her fallen reticule and Beatrice retrieved it, bowing her head in a nod of gratitude.

As she looked between the gentleman and the lady, the feathers swooping from her hat danced merrily in time with her chin's movements. "How often it is I find myself in the unfortunate situation of being known by name when I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting."

Deep blue eyes moved again between them. "You'll forgive my misstep - I was not prepared for the sudden stop of the guard march!" A delighted laugh pressed passed Beatrice's lips "Might I know your names?"

Now that Lady Beatrice was once more on two feet, Hugo bowed courteously. "Of course. Forgive my presumption in not introducing myself sooner. Major Fotherington, ma'am, and please allow me to introduce Miss Annabelle Beacham, whom I have just met myself. It seems fate has decided to take a hand in throwing us all together," he added with a wry twinkle. Oh well, if nothing else, he had at least met a pretty young girl and a famous actress today. Some would call that a profitable afternoon in itself!

Belle dropped a pretty curtsey. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am." Imagine writing to her friends in Kent with the news that she had met Lady Beatrice Howard! Lady Anne Pensworth would be positively green with envy. Well, she couldn't just stand here looking like a grinning idiot.

"Thankfully Fate put Major Fotherington here, or I'm afraid there would be some broken limbs and twisted ankles between the two of us." She cast him a smile. "Do they teach you how to catch clumsy ladies in the military, Major? A useful skill, if I may say so."

"Most pleased Major Fotherington, Miss Beachem." Beatrice intoned while twirling the drawstrings of her reticule delightfully within her fingertips.

She listened to Annabelle's jest and let an eyebrow rise for the second time in minutes, in delighted surprise. A debutant with a sense of humor - what a literal breath of fresh air.

A far cry from the giddy girls, giggling behind open fans because their 'Mummy told me to laugh at all of Lord Prestwold's jokes.' When really, Lord Prestwold hadn't a humorous bone in his body, but rather an extravagantly large estate in Dorset and a fortune to last a profligate a lifetime.

Today Beatrice did not speak up with a witty remark of her own but rather tilted her chin in the Major's direction and waited for his own response.

He chuckled at that. At least she was pleasant, and not bashful. "No; but they do teach us to be prepared for the unexpected, and I would say that catching ladies in the street falls under that category!" he smiled, deliberately leaving out the word clumsy. Anyone could have an unfortunate stumble, it didn't necessarily make them clumsy. And even if they were, a gentleman would never say so.

"But of course, if I had not been here, there would have been nothing to trip over in the first place. You see, I was the one to step out of the shop right into Miss Beacham's path."

"This is true, Major, but I was the one who wasn't looking where she was going. However, if you would like to take responsibility, I am glad to give it up." Annabelle beamed between the two of them, who obviously approved of her. She didn't know whether Daphne would be horrified that she nearly caused a traffic jam, or glad to know that she performed well when conversing. She was hoping the latter.

She turned to Beatrice. "Your Ladyship will forgive me, for I have never been to see you in any plays. However, I have heard marvelous things, and I am very honored to make your acquaintance." There. She'd gotten through a whole conversation with someone without announcing that she'd just arrived from the country. It was probably written across her forehead anyway, but all the same, she would have to learn not to blurt out just anything.

Beatrice watched the two converse in polite passive-aggressiveness until she could no longer quell the urge to add "How utterly polite. I for one do know it was at no cause of my own." The actress paused, her red lips quirking at the corners "Although I must say that being the addition to the calamity has been rather amusing.”

Turning towards the younger woman at the mention of the theatre, Lady Howard brushed off the shoulder of her pelisse and looked down her nose with mock indifference. “Never seen me in a play, you say?” Her lips pursed together dramatically and she made move to turn on her heel and leave, though only for show.

When she turned back towards the woman, a wide smile had spread across her face, her ability to enrapture an audience inarguably apparent. “There is only one way to correct that then, is there not? You shall come to the theatre. It is simply something that must be done!”

Beatrice tucked the silk strings of her reticule around her wrist. “Perhaps the Monday or Tuesday matinee? The play is Forty Thieves and it is a whirlwind comedy of errors. Although you could also attend the evening showings of Errant Symphony this Friday or Saturday but it is terribly dramatic and I must say that Samuel Phelps from Forty Thieves is much too dashing a sight to miss –"

Beatrice’s monologue was halted when she remembered the Major and realized that he would probably not fully appreciate a description of Samuel Phelp’s finer esthetic qualities.

“Have you been to the theatre lately Major Fotherington?”

(OOC - I apologise in advance for how lame this is going to be, since this is a rewrite)

Hugo waited patiently for the rhapsodising over Mr Phelps and his handsomness to finish. It was a topic he could have nothing to add to, since he'd neither met the man nor had any interest in whether he was dashing or four feet tall with warts and no hair. Fortunately, Lady Beatrice seemed to realise this very quickly, and since Miss Beacham had also (he assumed) not seen the actor, the conversation moved swiftly on. No doubt they could - and would - resume when Hugo had gone on his way.

"I confess I have not," he replied. "I have only recently returned to the country. But I am given to understand that I missed a sterling performance the other evening, so this is a situation that will have to be swiftly rectified. Perhaps even one of the performances you have just recommended to Miss Beacham?" he suggested cheerfully, stepping aside to allow a gentleman to pass.

"I must say that the idea of a comedy of errors appeals to me more than a dramatic, tragic romance," he grinned. There was a slight wryness to his expression, considering that the little meeting had commenced as a scene potentially out of a comedy of errors itself.

Annabelle almost melted into a puddle on the sidewalk - first in horror that Lady Beatrice was offended, then in giddy elation that she obviously saw fit to personally invite Belle to see one of her shows. Behind Belle, Agatha braced for a fit of happy squeals, but the young girl had enough common sense to simply beam with pleasure.

"Thank you very much for the suggestions! I myself would prefer a comedy, though I do love a romantic tragedy. I shall make the suggestion to my cousin, the Duchess of Beaumont - I am staying with her in town, you see, and she will know when we are free to take in a performance."

She turned to Major Fotherington. "If you do see one of the plays, perhaps you could tell me what you think of it. Though I confess I hope to be able to see them all by the end of the season, I should like to know where to start!"

"Major Fotherington... you are most kind." The actress fluttered her long dark lashes, splaying her hand across her chest delicately as she lowered her eyes in response to the gentle praise. She rather liked this gentleman right away, she decided. He was after all a handsome sort, with strong words to match his disposition. All were qualities she considered appealing. And of course Beatrice could never resist flattery.

To Annabelle,Lady Howard acquiesced "Then it is quite settled, Miss Beachem. However, I must absolutely insist that after the play, you make a special visit to my dressing room. I will hear no more on the matter." Beatrice re-adopted the indifferent persona and lifted a gloved hand to silence any protests.

"I do enjoy hearing critiques on my performances..." Beatrice's eyes widened cheekily and she all but winked before allowing a pleasant laugh to escape her lips. "...As long as the critiques are absolutely positive."

"Perhaps..." she wondered aloud "You might go together!" she exclaimed as though the idea were apparently quite obvious. Her blue eyes darted from female to male "Then you might share your opinions together!"

Beatrice couldn't see why either would object. He was handsome, pleasant... a Major after all. She was innocent, friendly and very pretty indeed. Really... object? Impossible.