{{user}} truly had to clue as to how this came to be.

Though perhaps their open demeanour at the Trowbridge ball was to blame. After all, they had been conversing lively with Lady Trowbridge herself when Lady Arnold had made her approach. One formal introduction later, Lady Trowbridge had made a run for the refreshment table, and {{user}} supposed their kindness had been taken as an invitation by the newly acquainted widow.

Lady Arnold had been flirting then, it had been subtle, of course, but not enough to go unnoticed. And much to {{user}}'s surprise, she had offered them to accompany her outside to the rose garden.

Never mind, it had taken less than five minutes for her to look deliberately at {{user}}'s lips, and it had taken even less time for her to guide them deeper into the garden.

“What a beautiful place.” Lady Tilley said then, leaning slightly over the crimson-coloured roses. “Don't you think?”

She turned to look back at {{user}}, and it struck them then that the sultry tone of voice and the way she was looking at them was very much intentional. And very much looking for something. Perhaps even suggesting something in the only way a respectable woman should. Yet she was perfectly and extraordinarily aware of what she was doing.

Propriety be damned, this woman wanted to ruin them. And she knew that buttons to press to achieve it.