Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

London Mayfair: An exclusive event for those of means.

Under the cover of darkness, an unlikely pair discreetly slip beyond the guards at the event of the year – A night at the Versailles Masquerade Ball

“How utterly ghastly! The outfits! The music! I am simply agog, if this dance were actually held in France, not one of these pretenders would get their unsightly hooves through the door!

Lady Eularia Moggerhanger, not a woman to mince her words nor offer kindness in place of a brutal, sledgehammer’s crash of honesty.

“The French take partying to a whole new level.” Raising her chin and narrowing her eyes, the lady Moggerhanger looked down her nose at the gathered lower league toffs.

“Not one of these piss ants is from real money nor breeding.”

“Oh, will you just shut your bloody pie hole!” Nell sighed, already exasperated by her newly forged alliance with the print news entrepreneur.

“Miss Jackson, when someone says costume party, one can’t just throw on some cheap bedsheets and claim it to be a Roman toga!  No, one should go all out and rent a high-end custom gown, especially for the last night at the Versailles Masquerade ball.

Nell glanced about the lofty hall. Her eyes rolled as the collected cesspit of money, privilege and title fawned falsely all over one another, all whilst donning the most ridiculous looking outfits.

“You know them big wire things they're all wearing?”  Nell rudely pointed at a gaggle of girls across the dance floor.

Peering down the length of her pointed nose, Eularia inspected the girls in question.

“Those mimic the girl’s hips, yea? Why would any woman wanna make-em’ selves look fatter?

A great tut and drawn-out sigh billowed like hot steam from the print mogul.

 “They go under the dresses and stick out like that to accentuate the female figure. The curves and twists of a womanly shape are most appealing to men. Not that you’d be even slightly interested by their propositions.” The lady chuckled to herself.

“What you getting at?” Nell frowned.

From behind her glittering mask, the lady Moggerhanger raised a brow, running a knowing gaze over Nell’s choice of masculine attire, as opposed to the perfectly agreeable frock the lady herself had picked out for the snake-hipped renegade.

“Honestly, the number of times some love-struck harlot mistakes you for a man.”

“I can pass for either and you’re just jealous of that.” Nell folded her arms defensively.

“Oh, of course. I’m just desperate to look like a male pre-pubescent chimney sweep.”

Both women startled as a sudden yap sounded out from within the confines of the billowing silk of the lady Moggerhanger’s dress.

Blushing, she turned to face Nell.

“You know, what’s great about all that extra space for the hips?  It’s perfect for storage.”

The yap sounded out once more.

From beyond her decorative mask, the white of Nells eyes illuminated as she zoned in on the source of the high-pitched bark.

“Tell me you ain’t brought that fuckin dog in here.” Nell sighed.

Pursing her lips and stamping a high-end heel upon the floorboards, the lady let her upset be known.

“I simply won’t be without her.” Moggerhanger snapped through an angry whisper.

“Well, that’s it. This is where we fuckin die, inn it?” Nell shoulders sank as she scanned the clustered bodies that suddenly convened upon the dance floor, as a quick paced music sounded out from the stage.

This ball, it was the last place on earth Nell wanted to be. The crimes of Isambard Tulley would not go unanswered it seemed. Despite his heroics in battling Poynton, the thief and galivant had returned to his criminal ways once more, finding himself yet again a target of the law.

 “He has to be here.” The lady discreetly whispered as Nell backed off from the dancefloor.

“I don’t know why you bother with him. Devereux’s a chancer. He’s probably nobbling some other silly old tart now.”

“And you promised you’d help me find him so I might catch him in the act and chop off an entirely different sort of ball.

 Nell let out a cheery laugh.

“Now, that would be worth seeing.” Now I remember why I said yes to helping you.”

The lady herself now chuckled, looping an arm through Nell’s as the highway woman began to lead the lady away from the dance floor.

“If that dog bites me, I’m gonna shoot it and put a hole in this ridiculous looking dress of yours.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” The lady poked Nell hard in the ribs.

“Alright, keep your hair on! Let’s look for Tulley and get the hell out of here.” Nell sighed as she tugged the lady along in a quick stride.

Moggerhanger suddenly stopped and gasped aloud as a stunning vision of a lady wrapped in blue silk caught her eye.

“Now, that is a woman from good stock! That’s aristocracy right there; I can smell the fortune and good breeding.”

Nell's eyes followed the path of Eularia’s gaze…that’s when she saw her.

A perfectly fitting bodice captured the toned, sculptured shoulders and delicate collarbone of a fine lady indeed. Nell’s curious stare fixated, then her mind wandered briefly into carnal thought. Hazel eyes trailed over a delightful swell of breasts made rounder and more inviting by the vice-like grip of that corset, cinching her waist and making it narrow. The constrictiveness above then softened below into a far more liberated eruption of silk trailing down female, shapely thighs and over thick hips. Hypnotically, the hem of the dress began to swish elegantly upon the smooth oak flooring, as this alluring woman walked.

Nell swallowed hard as the masked mystery woman seemed to catch her roving eye. She was a glorious vision indeed.

Dark ringlets of raven hair fell carelessly and without order, ending just above the curve of her rear, a rear made bigger and comelier by the cut of her dress. More wires, no doubt, Nell surmised.

“Oh, she’s just splendid. The sexual energy …its off the chart. I know chemistry. I know smutty liaisons that sell papers and naughty erotic books. She is the most unapologetic bomb burst of sexuality; all wrapped up in dignified silence forced on her by the constraints of her class. Yet, that is a woman that knows what she wants and is looking right at it as we speak.”

“What you talking about? She’s got a mask on. You don’t know where she is looking!”

“I’m rather afraid I do. She is looking at you, Miss Jackson.”

“Yap-yap” The concealed pooch seemed to agree.

“So help me, I’m fixing to take a proper swing for you.”

“Now, now, Nelly.” Eularia mocked.

“Don’t call me that.”  Nell groaned.

“Oh, sweet Jesus. She’s coming over!” Moggerhanger giggled.

Indeed, the pale skinned, dark haired beauty seemingly floated towards their position, turning the heads of all as she passed by.

“God, she’s riddled with some sort of magnetic power, if I were that way inclined, I’d fuck her senseless myself,”

Such was Lady Moggerhanger's confession; Nell spat out a mouthful of wine, much to the lady's cackle of laughter.

“What makes you think that I’m…that way inclined?” Nell mumbled, hands in pockets as her eyes looked to the floor rather than the grinning Eularia.

“Oh, please. You claiming to be heterosexual is just as preposterous as me claiming to be working class.” The lady shivered at the thought of being considered even remotely common.

“I’m not… that way!”  Nell aggressively whispered.

“Well then. You’re about to disappoint this lovely lesbionic creature swooping down upon you.”

“You’re wrong. She probably thinks I’m a man.”  Nell sarcastically snorted.

“No, I sense something altogether sapphic about this one.”

“Sapphic? What the hell does that mean?” Nell shrugged.

“I’m going to look for my betrothed.” Eularia sought her escape.

“No! Don’t you dare leave me!”  Nell reached out for a surprisingly nimble lady Moggerhanger.

“You will be fine. Just let the most utterly stunning woman in all of Christendom down gently. What with you not being that way inclined and all.” Again, from beyond her mask the lady rolled her eyes.

“Shit.” Nell blew out a breath as the stranger now stood mere feet away. Staring.

Nell stood a little straighter under this refined woman’s scrutiny. Puffing out her chest and bringing her arms behind her back. She was glad of the mask. The longer this woman’s ice blue eyes surveyed her form, the more her cheeks glowed red with heat. She was from the top of the toff leagues. Moggerhanger was right about that. The elevated strong jawline. The better than you stance and stoicism radiated from within. Such arrogant posture.

Adjusting her own stance, Nell allowed herself to covet the tempting form once more. Staring at this woman’s feet then travelling up the shimmering blue fine silk of her dress. It was beautiful. Nell clenched her hands into tight fists, as if stopping herself from reaching out and placing a firm hold upon the vixen. Her breasts were exaggerated, Nell knew herself that a corset was an all together misleading contraption yet still, the woman’s skin was pale, vampiric and without imperfection. The appealing swell of each breast caused the renegade to lick her lips.

From behind her expensive, glittering mask, the appraisal was not lost on the good lady. Good, if only Nell knew the truth of who stood before her. Good is not a word she would use freely.

“Is it entirely inappropriate of me to invite you to dance?” The woman dared. Holding out a gloved hand.

That voice was low and gruff, but her words were eloquent and exceptionally well spoken. She was highly educated and well-read, the polar opposite of Nell, whose street smarts and wit made up for her lack of academia.

Nell knew that dark, raspy tone but could not place it.

“Why would it be inappropriate?” Nell looked to conceal her commoner accent.

The lady edged closer, closing the space that remained between the two.

“Because for a lady to ask a man to dance is most unorthodox.” Nell’s heart briefly sank. Did this woman believe her to be male? As disheartened as Nell was, she would soon find her mood greatly lifted and her disappointment brief.

Nell’s blood pressure raised as the dark stranger stepped in closer, bringing plump lips to the highway woman's ear.

“But one would imagine asking another woman to dance is even more daring and outrageous, some might say sinful.”

Nell swallowed hard as she felt this bold creature take her hand in her own, briefly stroking it. The renegade glanced downwards as a light glance of a caress from a hand sheathed in leather suddenly called her blood to simmer in her veins. Leather, another bold choice for a lady as opposed to silk. The touch was precise and reeked of intent as if starting some secret handshake between the two of them.

“Again, may I invite you to dance with me? Would you have me ask a third time I wonder.”

Nell was frozen to the spot and dizzy as her blood flow plummeted south. She was caught in this woman’s orbit and feeling herself already so willing to submit to her request.”

All Nell Jackson could manage was a nod.

A polite curtsy and bow came before either party could permit themselves to link arms. A traditional show dance ensued where lines of couples danced the same routine. Linking arms, then joining hands, but at all times keeping their bodies from pressing together. To hold your partner in close quarters in such a public setting was nothing short of vulgar. So, the strangest choreography proceeded from all. Touching fingertips and allowing only the flirtatious pressing together of palms, all at arm’s length of course.

“These masks…it’s nice to have some level of anonymity, isn’t it? No one knowing who you are. Your past deeds, your… mistakes. The Lady softly spoke. That voice, Nell knew this voice.

Nell spun the lady gracefully into an artful twirl, before bringing her back into hold. A scandalous coming together of hip bones and tummy’s touching could not be helped. This woman was indeed magnetic, Nell couldn’t help but glance down at the increasing pace of rise and fall of those heaving breasts. Again, her coveting did not go unnoticed by her dance partner.

Again, the dark-haired stunner brought her lips close to Nell’s ear, offering up confession.

“I always thought you rather attractive, Nell Jackson.” She purred, placing a soft hand on Nell’s chest, feeling her heart beating erratically under her ribcage.

Nell suddenly stepped back, running a rapid head to toe scan of her tempter. That voice! All at once, Nell remembered …

“Wilmot!” Nell snarled, but still did not retreat from her enemy.

“Yes, but let’s not do anything rash, Nell Jackson.” Sofia tugged Nell back into her arms.

“As I was saying, it seemed somewhat ill-timed and misplaced in our previous predicament to compliment your … really quite handsome features.” From behind the mask. The lady smirked as she discreetly squeezed Nell’s slender, firm bicep.

“Previous predicament!” Your brother murdered my father and you set me up!” Nell now raised her voice. The lady Wilmot at once sought to subdue her prey.

“Hush now. Let’s not cause a scene. If I say I regret my previous actions, will you simply think me a liar?”

Temper rising, Nell pulled Sofia firm to her, squeezing her waist tightly in both hands and causing the shorter woman to gasp pleasantly. The sudden forced contact and coming together of bodies began to draw attention. Nell’s pistol jutted out and prodded the lady Wilmot, pushing through into her layers of silk.

“I’m armed!” Nell warned.

“I have noticed. Your weapon is well-placed and causing the most pleasant sensation. I implore you… see if you can’t get a little more cross with me.” A devilish smile shone from behind the mask.

“You’re a liar and proven dangerous!  I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you or that rat brother of yours!”

The lady Wilmot boldly laced her arms around Nell’s slender shoulders. Pressing herself up against her aggressor as to diffuse the concern from those dotted around their position that she was not being taken against her will.

Nell did very little to uncouple herself from Sofia's viperous hold. The Lady Wilmot still felt the firm grip of Nell's hands. She looked into fiery eyes as Nell’s pupils blew outwards in dark circles of arousal. Nell had never been this close and intimate with a woman before, not anyone, really. Not like this.

“I knew you were like me as soon as I first laid eyes on you. That we are the same sort of creature.” The lady whispered as Nell continued to sink into her dance partner.

“I’m nothing like you! You and your brother are nothing but dark rogues.” Nell sneered.

Sofia slipped off a leather glove, Nell’s breath caught in her throat though as the lady Wilmot’s painted nails slipped into the folds of her shirt. A gentle, calming caress was imposed upon Nells bare, vulnerable flesh as sharp nails gently dragged over heated skin.

“That’s not what I meant. How do I put it?” The lady Wilmot sighed. “I think for once, you and I are on the same team… of sorts. We share the same…closeted preference.” She whispered. Taking note of how Nells eyes still lingered on her breasts and leant into her soft touch.

“What do you want, Wilmot?”  Nell glanced down into blown out pupils encircled by a deeper shade of blue than earlier.

“I wish to dance with the knowledge that not one of these controlling male idiots realises I am in the arms of a strong woman…happily.”

Nell looked about the room. It was tempting to offer out silent rebellion to the gathered pigs and bigots about the great hall. And for all her mistrust, having the Wilmot woman in her arms felt, dare Nell think it…right.

Momentarily, they swayed in hold. Even though the fast pace of the fiddler’s bow did not meet the slow sensual rhythm of hip from both women. The lady Wilmot’s arms still laced around Nell’s shoulders, leaning closer.

“But after this moment of pleasure ends… I need your help.” Sofia’s tone saddened.

“Why would I help you?” Nell scoffed but was less inclined to protest at the lady Wilmots further seductions.

“Because you’re the hero of the piece.” Sofia laid her head on Nell’s chest briefly as their gentle waltz continued.

“Right. If I’m the hero, then that makes you the baddy, don’t it? And you think I am going to set you right, change you?  I’ve never heard a story like that with a happy ending.” Nell whispered.

“Maybe this one will,” The lady Wilmot smiled behind her mask. Nell saw a sparkle in her dance partners eyes that gave away her grinning features beneath as she pulled back. The two now weighing each other up.

Nell delayed, momentarily doubting her better instinct.

“I don’t trust you. You’re up to no good. You’re too dark, I saw how powerful you got. You were really quick and eager to rule” Nell grumbled.

“Perhaps I can prove you wrong.” The lady whispered.

“What have you done now? You and that filth brother of yours” Nell’s curiosity was peeked.

“Thomas is missing, thanks to you, we’re both hunted by more than just the crown. I am afraid, Nell Jackson.  I just want your protection. As soon as Thomas is located, I shall take my leave if I bother you so.”

Nell quirked a brow, her eyes lingering in mistrust as the Lady Wilmot held her gaze.

“There are those among us that would rather I pledge my powers to the dark. Lord Poynton left quite the vacancy in the office of dark art and magic I … I don’t want that but it’s hard to resist.

Again, Nell eyed her nemesis with mistrust.

“Help me find Thomas, please Nell.” The lady cooed.

 At that, the doors to the great hall burst open. An unsettling shriek called out from the ladies first confronted by the intruders. A loud bang sounded out as a warning shot was fired up into the air, causing the more delicate in the room to scream and run for cover.

Nell glanced down as she felt the Lady Wilmot’s touch once more. Seeking Nell’s protection, she stood much closer to Nell, placing a hand on her forearm, pulling herself into Nell’s body as if it might shield her from harm.  She was uneasy, Nell would not think this formidable woman scared, but she seemed at least on the surface unable to defend herself nowadays. 

“Right then!” A hooded goon called out.

“We want one thing and one thing only!” The ringleaders accomplice began to hand out flyers.

“Devereux! The disgraced traitor to the crown and Jacobite!” A great cry sounded out.

“That’s right…I said Jacobite! He’s here, we’re certain of it.

“Damn it!” Nell snapped. Gaining the lady Wilmots attention

“And here I was thinking they were looking for me.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Typical Toff. You all think everything is about you.”

“And your kind think you’re always so hard done by and destitute.” She quickly replied.

“My kind? You mean normal folk that you lot keep bleeding dry.” Nell’s retort was more rapid than her ladies.

“Masks off!” The goon bellowed.

The Lady Wilmot suddenly glanced at the exit. Her previous relief replaced quickly by panic.

“Now you’re worried, ain’t ya.” Nell couldn’t help but tease.”

The Lady Wilmot set off for the door, only to find Nell catch her arm and halt her retreat.

“Alright, I’ll help ya. But let’s get a few things straight.”

“As you wish.” The lady hastily replied as the goons closed in.

“I don’t trust ya. I don’t like ya. And I ain’t…. that way.” Nell stammered the latter.

“Very well, clearly my body is betraying me. I’m not usually wrong but… if you say so. I shall refrain from making further …accusations. The lady released her hold on Nell. Stepping back and changing her manner towards her completely. Nell felt something inside of her call out in protest as the Lady Wilmot was seemingly no longer open to her touch.

“But i shall have you made aware, Nell Jackson…I never ask a woman to dance a third time.” Sofia bluntly confirmed.

The goons close in.

“Quick…out into the garden.” Nell gestured towards the open doors leading to the patio beyond