Honour?

Amber stood in the middle of the debutante ball, dressed in a green taffeta that sets off her eyes in the most glamourous sort of way. John's hand was around her waist, and they were engaged in the midst of a waltz that the rest of the debutantes were also involved in. She beamed her happiness all about as she danced about with the most desirable man in the entire town, he with the simple name but a rather fat chequebook. Her face was plastered with the smile that was of pure happiness.

Except it was anything but.

It wasn't wrong -- John was incredibly rich, but he was nothing much to look at. He was as plain as a banker could be, earnest looking, with eyes that one would easily trust. But there was something deep and dark behind that face that no one knew save Amber and John.

He wasn't really the gentleman he appeared to be.

While in polite company, he was everything a gentleman could be, courteous, understanding, and even witty, things that helped defray his rather plain exterior. But that day, when Amber was out walking in the gardens with him, he showed his true colours.

He had the audacity to hug her tight and kiss her deep on the lips despite her initial protestations. Then, under the pretext of an encroaching storm, proceeded to make love with her in a shack that was conveniently nearby. It wasn't forced; by then Amber had swooned with the surprise intimacy that she placidly agreed to let him into her.

When the passion was finally over, she realised to her horror just what she had done. John then suggested a series of action that they would go through to legitimise their affair to retain both their honours. Seeing no way out, she agreed.

They danced on in the debutante ball as the evening drew near. By this time tomorrow, he would have proposed and she would have agreed and everything would turn out alright.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 21-Mar-2014 22:26:38)