Claire immediately wrinkled her nose at the thought of shopping. Besides, she supposedly already got fitted for a custom dress this morning. “No, I don’t enjoy shopping,” she admitted, watching a servant pick up their picnic supplies before turning to step into the carriage. “Except for hats…I don’t think I could ever get enough of those. But as a general rule, I try and get out of the shops as quickly as possible.” Something about the frustration of finding exactly what you were looking for and spending time on something so monotonous didn’t interest her. “Besides, if you want to know what I fancy, just look in the closet. Simple as that.”
She communicated to the driver that they wanted to visit the Royal Observatory before settling into her seat, this time a little closer to her husband. “I’ve never actually been, though I’ve been told it’s beautiful. I love looking up at the night sky. It makes all my worries seem so small, every time,” she told him, timidly taking her hat off, placing it in her lap, and gently laying her head on his shoulder. “How are you feeling? Your side. Tell me if you need to go home, I wouldn’t mind,” Claire added, tilting her head to kiss his neck before resting on him again. He needed love and care shown just as much as she, and Claire was willing to give it, to go all in. If that was what it took to make this work, making herself vulnerable, then so be it.
Claire reached for his hand, turning it palm up within her own. “Your hands,” she murmured, “they’re a little rougher than I would have expected in your line of work.” It was a tiny comment as she ran the tips of her fingers over his, one by one. “Don’t worry, I like it. Gives you a very masculine feel.” It was said with a hint of mischievousness, but she meant it all the same.
Again she changed the subject quickly, seeming to do so when her mood was light and uplifted. “I don’t think you should show me what you’re wearing to the masquerade. Surprise me,” his wife encouraged, letting out a soft sigh at the simple thought of her ballroom dance. “Our eyes meet from across the room, faces shrouded in mask and shadow. Despite the attention from both of us being unforgivably striking to everyone who lays eyes on us, we have no desire for conversation with any of them. A dance starts, and hold out your hand without a word, as if we are made for one another. Then we dance, and the people are quick to make room for people with such graceful feet. Afterwards,” she continued, clearly caught up in her own story, “you steal me away, not bothering to say goodbye to a single guest. There are so many people there, nobody will notice its hosts missing for the remainder of the night.”
Claire laughed, letting out yet another dreamy sigh. Apparently she was hiding quite the romantic imagination. “Yes. I want your suit of choice to be a surprise. Will your cousin still be around by then, Timothy? He seems very kind, he should stay long enough to attend. Perhaps we could find him a dancing partner,” she grinned, looking up at him.