The disheveled young man.

Deciding to be bold, Peggy takes a deeper sip of punch and moves along the edge of the ballroom to the young man who's alone. He's got a smirk on his lips, framed in an elegant little goatee, and light brown hair swept back over his head in puffy, tumbling curls. He's leaning against a small decorative table, and doesn't take his eyes off the dancers as she approaches.

"Look at them," he says quietly as she arrives. Clearly he's talking to her, though he hasn't looked at her yet. "The petit bourgeoisie, all mingling about, trying to impress each other enough to social-climb and get themselves one rung higher on the ladder that is this corrupt and passionless society."

Peggy doesn't quite know what to say to that. Was he talking to her? She takes a sip of punch and clears her throat awkwardly instead of speaking.

The man's eyes flit over to her; for a split second he seems annoyed, but as his eyes rove up and down her body, he smiles. Peggy feels herself flush slightly; the man is examining her in a way that men from polite society generally don't. Still, she's flattered when he straightens, turning to her and giving an elaborate bow, taking her hand and planting a rather firm kiss on it.

"I apologize!" he exclaims. "I did not realize at first that I was in the presence of such radiant beauty." He reaches forward and kisses her other hand, making Peggy giggle, then smiles up at her. "You have enchanting hands, madamoiselle. Dare I ask the pleasure of your name?"

"Oh, you're too silly!" Peggy exclaims, blushing slightly. "I'm Margaret Foxhaven. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr...?"

"Winthrop," the young man says with a smile, straightening. "Percival Winthrop, but I insist you call me Percy."

"Not Mr. Winthrop?"

He snorts. "Never." Looking at her face, he tilts his head to the side and smiles. "Foxhaven...yes, I believe Annalise told me something about your family. You'd be Peggy, then? Among friends, I mean?"

"Oh, er, yes," Peggy says with a little laugh. "However do you know Annalise?"

"We are technically - but only very technically - related," Percy says, dropping her hands to take a rather deep swallow of punch. "Fifth or sixth cousins I believe. It would be more apt to say that we are friends, now; we met while we were both touring the Continent, and when her family urged her to come back to England, I decided to come with her to see the old homeland. Tell me, Peggy, have you ever been to the Continent?"

"Oh, I wish! But no. I've hardly ever been outside of Wiltshire, save to London a couple of times."

"Ah! Not seen the marble ruins of Rome, or the mighty castles of Germany? You've never stepped foot upon the Alps? You really must. It changes your life."

"Well, should I ever get the chance, I'll certainly do all those things," Peggy says with a smile.

He studies her. "Do you speak any of the Continental languages, Peggy?"

He's being a bit forward with her name, but she does like this man; he seems exciting, to say nothing of sophisticated. "No; only English, I'm afraid."

He smiles and says, "Benefits of a classical education. Well then, let me be the first to say to you, 'Se potessi, ti fotterei nel culo proprio qui sul pavimento.'" The Italian just rolls off his tongue, and he gives her another bow.

"Well, thank you! What does it mean?"

He gives her a smile, though this one is edged with a smirk. "It's a great compliment to your beauty, Miss Foxhaven. If you like, I could teach you the proper meaning eventually, but ah...not now. It's a party, after all. Who has time for linguistics? Even if I do suspect you have a talented tongue. I have an instinct for these things."

Peggy blushes. "Well, thank you, Mr. Win - Percy. I appreciate the offer. But I'm sure you flatter me too much! I'm no great beauty."

"Ah, it takes a special eye to see these things properly. I'm a poet, Peggy." He comes to stand close to her, turning slightly to face out to the ballroom, and puts a hand on the small of her back, sending tingles down her spine. "Look at all these people. What do you think they see? What do they go about their day thinking about?"

Peggy obeys, copying his stance and watching the dancers. "Well...ordinary things, I suppose. The usual."

"Exactly," Percy breathes in her ear. "They don't think about more than their petty lives - the checking account, the latest fashion, what their neighbor thinks of them. Their minds are not occupied with higher things, like the pursuit of beauty! Of truth. I've learned one thing in my twenty-two years, Peggy, and it's that beauty is all; it's the whole point of living. But you can't just expect it to fall into your lap. You've got to seek it out deliberately! You've got to reach out and grasp it."

Peggy lets out a squeal and darts forward in startlement, causing several of the people nearby to glance around at the two of them in surprise; Percy's hand had moved slowly and imperceptibly downward while he spoke, and as soon as he'd said "grasp it" he'd suddenly seized the cheek of her ass firmly through her dress! Percy is smirking, looking completely innocent as he puts his hand behind his back and takes another sip of tea, while Peggy feels utterly exposed. She feels very warm, suddenly, and her breathing is uneven, but she makes herself take a steadying sip of punch and gives Percy another slight curtsey.

"I...apologize, Mr. Winthrop," she says formally (for the benefit of those still looking in their direction). "I thought I saw something that startled me, but it was just a shadow." Percy is still smirking at her enigmatically, but gives her a nod. She's blushing now, for sure. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

As she hurries away from the forward young man, Peggy tries to tamp down the blush that she knows is spreading like wildfire across her cheeks. But the feeling of his hand on her remains: the way his fingers dug into her flesh, how he grasped and hefted that round part of her as though weighing it, evaluating it. She feels a warmth and a deep ache flow through the core of her, and she hurriedly pours herself some more punch in an effort to subdue it.

***

Meanwhile, Alice wanders the party, {if Bellington-Party-Alice-Drunk = True}more than a bit buzzed and enjoying herself, {endif}wondering what to do next. On the one hand, she might not be able to meet anyone if she doesn't go introduce herself. On the other - she leans coquettishly against a column at the edge of the ballroom - shouldn't the men be flocking to her? She'll wait here for them, she decides, and see who approaches.