Quinton stayed where he was, unaware that he had had an audience to Honora Allemeade’s piece of revenge on him. When the carriage fled away, Quinton was at last able to fall to his knees, and for what seemed like hours, would wail and laugh and wail and laugh. He was eventually found by his most trusted servant, Jasper.

What Jasper saw was his master in a state that he’d never seen him in before. His face was full of hysteria, his voice growing hoarse…the only thing that seemed normal was that the front of his pants seemed a bit damp…with something unmentionable…although the fabric was so dark, it could have been a trick of the light. He rushed to his master’s side, “what happened, my lord? Are you alright?” But Quinton was still beyond words. He only let out a groan and a sob. His master was in no state to return to the ball. It was more than time for it to end anyhow. Thinking quickly, he left Quinton long enough to fetch some other trusted servants to discretely bring Quinton to his rooms.

With his master taken care of, Jasper would go to work. He’d enter the ballroom and go to each servant, whispering a brief situation of what happened. He’d go to the musicians next, letting them know to start slowing down the music. At some point, he’d try to get everybody’s attention (given that most of the people were still dancing in the room and not fleeing or boinking somewhere in Quinton’s newly refurbished home) and state that their host was suddenly unwell and that the festivities were drawing to a close. He would thank everyone for coming on Quinton’s behalf. And then he would wait and organize and prod until everyone had finally left.

A valet’s work was truly not for the weak.

[END THREAD]