Chapter Text
Ben Solo was in want of a wife. It wasn’t that he was especially lonely--he could easily make a liaison with any prima soprano, ballerina, or charming widow he wished.
No, Ben was in want of a wife for one reason and one reason alone.
His mother, her serene highness princess Leia Organa of Nabeau, dowager duchess of Alderaan, desired grandchildren. And she was making his life an absolute hell until she got them. It started five months ago, when his mother had descended from her northern estate to his London townhouse for Christmas and hadn’t departed since. She was constantly hosting old friends and their marriageable daughters for tea or dinner, or introducing him to some smart miss every time she dragged him to the theatre or opera.
Frankly, Ben was ready to marry the next woman he was introduced to if it meant Leia would go back to her dower estate. And this was precisely why he was standing in a crowded reception room at Buckingham Palace instead of in bed where he belonged after the night he’d had at the club. Armitage had snuck his statuesque paramour Gwendolyn into with half a dozen of her courtesan friends. Cognac flowed while cigar smoke clung to the shadows and the girls did the can-can on the table.
“Ben, are you paying attention?” His mother hissed from where she stood at his elbow.
He straightened up and redoubled his efforts of scrutinizing the girls being trotted before him like cattle at a village fair.
“Miss Bazine Netal, escorted by the right honorable, Viscountess Netal,” one of the heralds boomed.
A dark haired, cat faced girl floated forward amidst a frothing mountain of skirts. She curtsied before their new queen and prince consort, holding the deepest position well. Victoria eyed the girl with appraisal, before gesturing to one of her ladies forward. The crowd applauded politely as the lady-in-waiting pinned a sprig of hothouse flowers to Miss Netal's sash.
“A mark of distinction, Ben,” Leia whispered.
“Mother, please.”
Bazine’s dark eyes flicked over to where they stood very near the dais and Ben worried the young woman had heard them. But his worry passed when Lady and Miss Netal retreated to stand among the crowd, a sharp look of triumph on the mama’s face visible across the room.
“Miss Paige Tico and Miss Rose Tico, escorted by the right honorable, the Baron Hays.”
The two girls--Ben didn’t know if they were twins or if one had delayed coming out--repeated the ritual, though they did not receive a token from the queen.
More girls escorted by brothers, mothers, aunts...the names began to blur together and even Leia seemed to droop a little as the afternoon stretched before them, her fan fluttering endlessly in the corner of his vision. Just when Ben was about to suggest that he send a footman to ready the carriage, a name caught his attention.
“Miss Aurelia Nema, presented by the right honorable Sir. Benjamin Kenobi.”
Ben turned to his mother, “I didn’t know godfather was going to be in town.”
Leia waved a hand in his direction. “I told you last week.”
Ben opened his mouth to argue that she almost certainly hadn’t told him, but Leia snapped her fan shut and swatted his arm with it.
“Focus.” Ben sighed, but did so.
His gaze slid from his godfather’s familiar, bearded face to the girl on his arm. A girl Ben never heard of before, despite what he had thought was a close relationship to Kenobi. His godfather had never once mentioned a ward or a poor relation he was going to sponsor.
Still, he couldn’t quite manage to look away from her. This Aurelia was slender--perhaps unfashionably so--and her waist seemed to disappear in the swell of her white silk skirts. Lustrous chestnut hair was pinned away from her face in a simple braided coil. The gown she wore was not as glittering or ostentatious as many of the other debutants’, but it suited her delicate features he supposed, and gave her a complexion a healthy glow that many of the other girls lacked.
Aurelia and Kenobi stopped before the dais. Ben watched his godfather snap into a smart court bow to the queen and prince consort, before his gaze was inevitably drawn back to the lady.
Aurelia sank low, sweeping her full skirts behind her and holding the pose, arm stretched back and head bent.
“Golly, were we supposed to do that one?” A debutant whispered somewhere to his right.
“ French style...my word…”
“Does she think we’re at Versailles?”
The vast chamber was abuzz with whispers at the girl’s flawless French curtsy.
Queen Victoria stood and the crowd let out an audible gasp. Though the queen was no more than five years older than the debutant kneeling before her, she pressed a motherly kiss to the girl’s forehead and raised her from her bow. She motioned for her lady, and pinned a sprig of flowers to Miss Aurelia’s gown herself.
Applause broke out--almost too exuberant for the normally stately event--as the queen retreated to her throne. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Leia open her mouth.
“Not one single word, mother.” He bit out.
“Of course not, dear,” Leia said, hooking her arm through his. “Of course not.”
The official reception ended soon after and everyone rushed to their carriages so they might rush home to change for dinner or the theatre, or the opera or even the club. Luckily there was no society ball that evening, as far as Ben knew--which in his opinion was a blessing. Balls, like the rest of the upper crust, were best in small doses.
Leia, of course, immediately began going over each and every debutant that had been presented. If she had a good family name, a pleasing figure, what was her dowry, did the women of her family tend to produce multitudes or were they rather barren and on and on and on. Ben’s head was beginning to throb.
“Mother if you do not cease I will leave this carriage and walk home,” Ben threatened.
Leia waved his words away with a look of exasperation--they had had this conversation many times before. “Oh Ben, really, there’s no need for dramatics.”
“I’m deadly serious,” he grouched.
“Benjamin Solo Organo Amidalo Skywalker,” she launched into her lecture. “This is important. Choosing the right girl to wife is key to a well ordered life. This is about choosing a partner to safeguard Alderaan and bear your children, your heir , and you ought to take this seriously.”
With a beleaguered sigh, Ben reached through the open window and pulled the carriage door open.
“Benjamin what are you doing--”
Ben kissed his mother’s forehead and jumped out of the carriage into the street. “Good Evening, mother. I shall see you at breakfast.”
“Benjamin!”
Ben ignored her. The driver and three footmen would be more than capable of seeing Leia home. Ben took off, weaving his way through the crush of horses and wheels.
“Alderaan! Alderaan old fellow!”
Ben looked towards the voice.
“Kenobi!” He greeted, making his way to the open barouche swimming along the throng.
“Climb in, your grace,” his godfather ordered.
Ben shook his head, eyeing the delicate looking vehicle. “I’d tip your little cart right over if I tried, Kenobi. I’m fine to jog along.”
“Suit yourself,” the older man replied before shifting slightly to reveal the girl at his side.
“Allow me to introduce my ward, your grace,” Kenobi continued. “Miss Aurelia Nema of Creiff. Miss Nema, this is his grace the duke of Alderaan, Marquis of Nabeau, and my godson.”
She leaned towards him in a rustle of silk. Ben bent forward and managed to shove his big body part way into the carriage. The scent of orange blossoms filled his nose as a tiny gloved hand slipped into his suddenly clumsy paw. He bent his head and managed to press a quick kiss just above her little hand.
“Charmed, Miss Aurelia. I look forward to making your acquaintance over the Season.” There, he thought. Leia would be pleased that he was making an effort.
Aurelia smiled at him shyly. “The pleasure is all mine, your grace.”
Dimples. She has dimples . They popped when she smiled.
thunk
Ben found himself sprawled in the street, blinking up at the bright blue sky. After barking an order at Aurelia to remain inside the carriage, Kenobi and his driver rushed to his side. Around them the whispers of ton gossip buzzed in the streets like flies at horses.
“Did you see the duke?”
“My goodness, is his grace okay?”
“A lamppost? His grace should be more careful.”
“Miss Nema? Who?"
Kenobi appeared above him and slid a hand under Ben’s shoulders, helping him to sit.
“I’m fine,” Ben assured as he climbed to his feet. “I’m fine, Kenobi."
His godfather did not look convinced. “That was a knock to the head, Alderaan.” A pause, to see if Ben would be persuaded to see reason. When he wasn’t, Kenobi continued. “Where’s your carriage? You’re in no shape to walk home.”
“I’ll get a hansom cab,” he answered.
“Your Grace, allow me,” a voice called.
Ben turned to see Viscountess Netal motioning to him with her handkerchief from a carriage a few feet away. Next to him, his godfather breathed a sigh of relief.
“Capital! Lady Cynitha will see you sorted,” Kenobi declared, clapping him on the shoulder and propelling him towards the coach with it’s female occupants.
With a glance back at his godfather, and the carriage holding Miss Nema behind him, Ben climbed into the viscountess’ vehicle.
It was a gross miscalculation on his part.
By the time he got home, Ben had somehow agreed to dinner with the viscountess and her family next Thursday and to a chaperoned carriage ride with Miss Nital on Saturday. Bazine and her mother had kept up a steady stream of conversation and he learned that the young lady excelled at drawing, dancing, singing, piano forte, and the modern languages. He smiled politely and tried to make conversation, but his head was bloody killing him.
Finally home, Ben eyed the carriage from his front parlour window as it drove off. Bazine Netal was exactly the kind of girl he should marry, he supposed. She was clever, handsome, and rich.
Absently he rubbed the center of his chest as a pair of hazel eyes flashed through his mind.
The pleasure is all mine, your grace .
Ben crossed the cavernous front hall to his study and rang for his butler. A moment later Pio appeared. The butler was ancient . He tottered around and fussed at the staff, was generally rude to his betters, and gossiped about the servants, but he’d come with Ben’s mother from Italy, so there was no getting rid of him.
“Your Grace?”
“Send a footman for a doctor,” he instructed, rubbing at his temple.
“Very good, sir. I thought to mention you were looking sallow and feverish. Good of you to think of it, sir,” Pio chirped. Ben wasn’t sure if the old codger was mocking him or not.
“Has the dowager returned home yet?”
“Yes, sir. Her grace says she expects you at dinner so that you may discuss which acquaintances you wish to call upon this week.”
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, alright.”
Ben hated calling on people, and he also rather hated having people call on him. It didn’t matter that it was in his parlour. Honestly that made it worse--strangers trampling through the house made his teeth stand on edge. But here he was, seated on the ridiculously low chaise with Bazine wedged next to him in her voluminous skirts. Viscountess Netal sat across from them next to Leia.
The housekeeper set the heavy silver tea tray down on the table between, and Leia began to pour. Ben glanced at the girl next to him. She smiled, her eyelashes fluttering over exotic violet colored eyes.
“Do you have something in your eye, Miss Netal?”
Her response was cut off by the sound of the door opening once again.
Pio announced in his reedy voice, “Sir Benjamin Kenobi and Miss Aurelia Nema.”
Ben stood, deftly ignoring the fine porcelain teacup his mother was just about to hand him, and inclined his head towards their new guests. They bowed back.
“Please Miss Nema, take my seat,” he said, motioning to the now vacant spot next to Bazine.
Miss Aurelia stammered out a thank you, and her way to the sofa. As she sat, she flicked her gaze up to him, a curious expression on her face.
Up close and in the bright morning light, Ben could see that she had a smattering of freckles dusting her the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He rubbed at his chest, making sure his cravat was in place. Freckles were considered unattractive by society standards, but he rather thought they looked cute against Aurelia’s golden skin.
Once again the pleasant scent of orange blossoms clung to her. Ben inhaled, suddenly reminded of the citrus groves in Nabeau.
“Is there something the matter, your grace?” Aurelia asked, her voice soft to not attract notice from the others.
Ben frowned, not understanding the question.
“Nothing’s wrong, Miss Aurelia."
She looked away from his gaze as a pretty pink flush broke across her cheeks. “I think you must be teasing me, your grace. I fear I must have a smudge on my face or some other calamity.”
“No,” he said, unthinking. “Your face is perfect.”
She stared at him, eyes widening as she processed what he said. Ben flushed once he realized what he said.
“Excuse me,” he murmured, retreating to the other side of the room.
Best to beat a hasty retreat .
Ben lowered himself into a much more reasonably sized armchair and extended his long legs out in front of him. Leia frowned at the posture, and Ben reluctantly straightened up. He turned to his godfather.
“I didn’t know you were coming to town this season,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.
His godfather shrugged. “There’s always business to be done in town. Besides, Aurelia was old enough to come out, so here we are.”
Their conversation paused for a moment while the ladies in the room continued chattering.
“Shall we go to your office?” Kenobi suggested.
Ben nodded his ascent and both men stood.
“Excuse us, ladies,” old Ben said with a smile. “His grace and I have some business to attend to.”
Ben turned and strode out the door before Leia could object. When he reached his office across the hall, he went to the sideboard and poured them both a drink. Kenobi took the glass tumbler and walked towards the fireplace.
“Surprisingly nippy for spring,” his godfather mused. “Though I’m sure we’ll be complaining about the heat once it starts hotting up."
Ben took a swallow of whiskey.
“How’s your head, by the by,” Kenobi asked, half turning to look at him.
Ben moved closer, sitting on the edge of his blessedly sturdy desk.
“It’s fine,” he said, combing his fingers through the dark hair at his temple, hoping the bruise was covered.
A carriage went by outside, horse hooves echoing on the cobblestones, melting with the crackle of the fire in the hearth.
“Is Miss Nema enjoying the season so far?” Ben asked.
Kenobi smiled. “I do believe so. Not many young ladies can boast the distinction of dropping a duke with a smile.”
Reflexively Ben scowled--he was uncomfortable with the idea of any young lady boasting of “dropping” him.
“Not that she’s the sort of lady who would boast,” Kenobi amended.
“I had no idea you had a ward. Why have I never met her?" Ben asked, unable to keep the question from bubbling past his lips.
Kenobi shrugged, and Ben got the distinct impression he didn't want to discuss the matter. “She was educated in Switzerland from a young age.”
Ben contemplated the amber liquid in his glass; it appeared that there was a whole swath of his godfather’s life that he hadn’t known about. Crossing his arms over his chest, he scrutinized the older man before him. What other secrets might he be holding close abreast?
Aurelia--or Rey as she liked to be called--glanced at the parlour door before turning back to the delicate porcelain cup in her hand. Her ears strained for the sound of men’s boots on the marble floor. It wasn’t that she wanted to leave, exactly, it was just that she felt unease without her uncle nearby. She could hardly believe that she was here, after all, and she half expected it all to melt away like meadow mist at sunrise.
Rey took a sip of tea and nodded along with the conversation between the elegant ton ladies around her. Their rapid-fire speech was peppered with references to people and places Rey hardly recognized, let alone could keep track of.
Oh, she hoped her uncle would return soon. And just her uncle, of course. She certainly wasn’t hoping for the black eyed duke to return to the parlour so she could ascertain if his hair was truly that soft looking. Absolutely not.
Your face is perfect .
“Did you visit Madame Archambeau or Madame Lapin for your wardrobe,” Miss Bazine Netal asked.
He was handsome though, Rey allowed to herself. Even if he was a little strange.
“Miss Nema?” Bazine prompted.
Rey gave herself a mental shake and scrambled to remember what the question was. She was keenly aware that all three ladies were looking to her for an answer.
Something about a wardrobe? Oh! Paris!
“Oh, um, neither. I didn’t go to Paris for my wardrobe. Sir Kenobi paid for a modiste .”
“Paid for a modiste? My word,” the Viscountess Netal exclaimed, setting her tea cup down perhaps too abruptly on the saucer. The dowager duchess winced.
“Do you mean he sent for the local dress marker?” Bazine asked, brows drawn over violet eyes.
Rey looked down at her light blue and white checkered dress. Perhaps it was a bit plain--it had none of the delicate embroidery or lace frills that Miss Bazine’s gown sported. Besides the pearl buttons at the sleeves and down the front, there was no decoration.
The silk taffeta skirts rustled like autumn leaves as she walked, though. And that made Rey happy.
“Yes, my lady. A Mrs. Claire Beacham, was the lady’s name. I believe she trained in Paris,” Rey answered, hoping the credentials, at least, sounded prestigious.
“And what of your governess?” the dowager duchess asked, a glimmer of laughter reflected in her dark eyes. “Miss Netal, I believe was educated by Mrs. Wollstonecraft Shelley, is that not right?”
“Yes, your gra--” Bazine began, before her mother interjected. “Yes, Bazine has had the best education a girl could hope for. She’s quite accomplished, I dare say.”
At the governess’ name, Rey turned at the girl seated next to her.
“You know Mrs. Wollstonecraft Shelley? Oh I do love Perkin Warbeck,” Rey said with a tentative smile.
“Perkin Warbeck was lovely, but I shall always be parietal to Modern Prometheus.” Bazine said as she returned Rey’s smile and clasped their hands together, “You simply must come to tea on Saturday. I’ll invite Mary--I mean, Mrs. Shelley--and--”
“And of course, you must come as well, your grace,” the Viscountess said to Leia. “It will be a veritable salon.”
The duchess nodded her ascent. “A lovely idea, Cynthia.”
“I’d love to attend,” Rey said to Bazine, a feeling of warmth spreading through her.
Bazine began to say something else, but the Viscountess rose from her seat, prompting the younger ladies to rise as well.
“Look at the time! I do believe we’ve overstayed. Thank you, your grace, for such delightful company,” she bowed to the still seated duchess.
Bazine gave Rey an appolgetic look over her shoulder as a footman showed the departing guests the door, and Rey was left alone with the dowager Duchess of Alderaan.
Rey took a slow sip of her tea and tried not to meet the duchess’ eye. The grandfather clock chimed in the hall.
“Well Miss Aurelia, aren’t you the surprise of the season,” the duchess said, fixing her with a sharp eye. “Now, tell me of your education. Come now, be thorough. Which languages do you speak? Have you any Latin?”
Help me, Uncle Kenobi , Rey silently begged. The duchess was going to eat her alive. When it became apparent that her uncle was not, in fact, going to fortuitously return to the parlour, she smiled, trying desperately to remember how to speak.
“I do have some Latin, your grace. As well as French, Italian and German.”
The duchess regarded her with something resembling surprise. Rey was sure another round of questions was forthcothing, when the door swung open.
“My apologies, your grace, but I believe it’s time for Miss Nema and me to depart,” Kenobi said from the hallway.
Rey scrambled up and carefully set her teacup onto the table. Bobbing a curtsey and a thank you, she followed her uncle out.
Rey exhaled a sigh of relief as they stepped outside, and turned her face to catch the warm afternoon sun while it was free from clouds. The sound of hooves rang out across the courtyard. She turned expecting to see their carriage, but instead saw the Duke leading a massive black horse from the side yard.
The slight breeze blew his dark hair back from his forehead as he strode towards them and the afternoon sun reflected off his shiny black boots.
“Kenobi, I forgot to ask if you’ll be at the club later this week. We should have dinner,” he said by way of greeting, with a quick nod and ‘Miss Nema’ in her direction.
She bobbed a courtesy, “your grace.”
She listened as he and her uncle made plans. Rey wondered what it must be like to be so free--to go to a club or be in public without a chaperone. It would be nice to have a ladies club, she mused, where they could dance and play cards and perhaps even drink without the scrutiny of men.
Their carriage arrived a moment later, and Kenobi climbed into the vehicle first to keep it steady for Rey’s ascent. She stepped up, and a warm hand enveloped hers. Rey looked down, surprise coursing through at the feeling of skin against her own. The duke of Alderaan had not yet donned gloves, and her fingerless lace ones were hardly a barrier. Her fingers looked so small clutched in his--
She sat, and he let go of her hand. Alderaan snapped a bow in her direction and turned, mounting his horse before riding off.
Rey fought the flush that threatened to spill across her face. He made her feel so peculiar, like her skin was too tight suddenly. But perhaps it was simply because she so rarely felt another person’s skin against her own.
Her uncle smiled as their carriage lurched forward. “I hear you have an invitation for tea on Saturday.”
Rey nodded, ducking her head under his twinkling grey eyes. “Yes, Miss Bazine invited me.”
He nodded and sat back with his hand crossed over his stomach, thoroughly pleased with himself. “See my dear, you’re making friends already.”
Rey nodded, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that her entree into society would not be as smooth as the past week might suggest.