Hi all, this is my first attempt at a story, so hopefully people will be gentle with me :-).
It's intended that this is the first chapter of a longer story/series, so it may be a bit wordy, but trying to set the scene and I personally like longer stories where the characters are believable and rounded, so this is the style I prefer to write in, too.
I'm grateful for any comments, criticism, thoughts and other input from people here.
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As he surveyed the ballroom, Marcus Lancaster's thoughts were alive with possibility as he espied the many young debutantes and their similarly attractive doting mothers. As the dancers twirled past him, he caught sight of familiar faces –not to mention bodies- as he recalled several of his own former lovers: Alice Carlisle, redheaded beauty of a dozen soirees and her infamous four poster bed where she entertained all of her men; Nadine Clochet, a spirited aristocrat from the houses of France who was not afraid to show the young men of England what their continental cousins could do; not forgetting Bella Frobisher, his latest flame which had burned so brightly, yet for too brief a time…at her insistence, their passions had been expended in chance meetings and hurried liaisons, yet in the end rushing things had proved to be to neither of their long-term tastes.
Genuinely pleased to see most people at this event, Marcus thought that he saw promises of later 'chance-meetings' in the eyes of some…smiles which he returned with a replying glance of intention of fulfilment. Yet, despite the numerous dancers and distance between them, another figure caught Marcus' attention this evening: the haughty smile of Lady Louisa de Montfort seemed to reach out and snare the roaming attention of his deep blue eyes.
The region's soirees were usually attended by 'the great and the good' from many miles away, so nearly everyone attending knew each other in passing and also had some idea of each other family's businesses and interests. However-though the svelte lady in the pale yellow dress was vaguely familiar to him- Marcus sensed that tonight something different was taking place and he could not tear his sight from her body's small rounded curves, no matter which other 'belles of the ball' passed by him. The delicate skin of her cheek seemed to speak of softness as yet untouched by his knowing fingers; the way that the corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she laughed at her friends' jokes almost invited a kiss, yet also hinted at decadence and dominance; the way her slender digits played with the edges of her wine glass and an occasional 'dark' look at several guests intimated that she knew how to manipulate in both senses of the word.
Grabbing hold of a couple of glasses of wine from a nearby waiter, he drained them both in quick succession in an effort to keep a hold of his senses, yet he could not deny the grasp that this unknown lady already had over him. Though he classed himself as 'not exactly virginal', Marcus kept an open mind and was always looking to further his experience, so he hoped that there may be a chance to be even more under Lady de Montfort's power.