For reasons that couldn't really be more clear by the clothes that she wore or the air that she carried, money had never been an obstacle from the French young woman. Some might even go so far as to say she had an excess of it that was more or less at her disposal whenever so so desired the next fleeting fancy that might come her way. Despite the fact that she could have easily paid for her way around the world, that she could have gone to whatever desolate or busy corner of the world she might yearn to see, still the desire to see those places she'd only ever read of in those books both new and old remained unsatisfied. It was one thing to have the money one needed for such ventures, but it was next to impossible without one other piece that; freedom. The two things existed together in a frustrating way where it seemed that if she only had just one of these things and not the other, that want still remained just beyond the reach of he slender fingers. Now, it wasn't to say that she was entirely forbidden from wandering off the estate because that would be a lie. She had gone several times with her mother when they decided to have a girl's day away from the south very often unbearable French nobleman that seemed to always concern himself with what it was that his dark-haired was up to, where she was in deciding if she'd found a husband in one of the suitors he'd invited within those high iron gates and concrete walls that separated the LaBelle Estate and the beautiful outskirts or Paris. There were afternoons well spent that the two women would shop those refined and elegant boutiques for whatever mind catch their eyes, evenings where they would laugh over a dinner table at one of the finest restaurants in that gorgeous city a part of her missed. Yet, as much as she had enjoyed those little ventures to the heart for that city with the company of her mother and Townsend, it just wasn't the same thing to Adelaide. Ever since she'd discovered what true and wondrous beauty there was in the world beyond the limits of France, everything seemed so small to her.

It was her mother than had seen the rising restlessness in the young woman as she grew more and more loathing of those walls and the ground that she seemed so anchored to. Perhaps there was a chance that her father had seen the burning desire in his daughter's sage green eyes as she would sit there on that favored bay window in the study surrounded by all those dusty old books and crisp newer novels, staring out the impeccable glass and to those for off mountains, daydreaming of everything that was only just out of sight. If he had seen it, then he hasn't said a thing to her in some attempt to comfort her or soothe the restlessness that would help her feel once again like she belonged in the very place that she was. No, not a word had ushered from those arrogant lips that wasn't about how nice the last young man was and how that son of his old friend's had really seemed to enjoy the young French woman's company. Her mother had been the one to sit beside her on that bay window one day. It had been her mother who had taken the time to ask Adelaide what it was that made her seem so unhappy when she'd once been such a happy young girl running around in the vast yard with the other children of the estate, and Adelaide had spilled her heart out for the very first time the in a manner that wasn't in the form of shouting or fierce argument as yet another man was pushed in her direction. It had felt like a burden been lifted from her chest as she confessed that she didn't want to be there on the estate any longer, that she refused to marry before she had the chance to be her own person without someone telling her what she could and couldn't do. And like any good mother, the noblewoman and wrapped her daughter in those ever soft and comforting arms, hugging her silently for a few moments before she would pull away and tell the yearning young woman that she'd had those very same wants and hopes when she'd been Adelaide's age, told her that the world was so big and that in the end her father only wanted the best possible future for his only daughter. Those softly spoken words would calm the storm for a little while and the dark-haired woman would promise her mother that she would try and content herself with the seemingly inescapable truth of what it meant to be of noble heritage. She did try. For days on end she would try and ignore the beckon of those books in the study as she wandered the streets of Paris with her mother again for the thousandth time, try and convince herself that what her heart wanted was just far too unrealistic. Oh, how she tried to where she almost felt like she could almost pretend she was happy. In the end though, it seemed there was nothing she could do to bring herself to accept her life as it was. Something had to change.

Then came the day when she simply couldn't take it anymore or else she worried she would lose her sanity. It had been like any other dinner with her mother, the quiet clanking of silverware against fine porcelain plates as the rich aromas of the roast duck and slow-cooked vegetables filled the extravagant dining area when once again her father saw fit to ask the young woman what she'd thought of the last "strapping young man" that had been to see her earlier that day. As usual, Adelaide had replied that she found the man's arrogance nearly suffocating and intolerable, that he was possibly worse that the last one her father had are named a meeting with. For whatever reason, the nobleman seemed more displeased than he had when she'd given him yet another statement of decline, proceeding to say that there were only so many eligible bachelors of her class that could have his blessing, that there weren't many more out there in the country that he would approve of and that if anything she might just have to settle for one of them. That has been the metaphorical final thread holding her self-restraint from completely shattering into a thousand splintered pieces on the polished marble floors of her parents' manor. That was when she'd told him that she was finished with all the suitors, through with all the fake smiles and words of flattery, done with the bare minimum common courtesies that she'd spared all those sickeningly prideful bafoons in stuffy suits. Needless to say, her outburst had left both her mother and father with jaw slackened in disbelief, but it was a truth that had den withheld for far too long. It was the storm that raged within those sage eyes that finally roared into fierce words as she demanded that they allow her to move away to at least taste what was beyond those rolling hillsides and distant peaks.

Now, here she was, standing on foreign soils in front of a foreign man that she felt obligated to offer her assistance to in return for his aide. It ran deeper than that though, whispered of something beyond the common courtesy she deigned entirely necessary and found an unusual mixture of relief and satisfaction. There was nothing forced about the smile that danced across those dusty rose-colored lips or the ease of those silken accented words that trickle over her tongue. Everything about what she wanted to do for Taylor, those feelings of silent curiosity, it was all entirely genuine. For the first time in her life, her words did not go by the wayside and casually disregarded as nothing more than womanly gibberish or fussing or whatever they called it here so far away from her birthlands. He did not look at her like the men in Paris did, like she were some animal they were appraising for quality of breeding. He looked at her with a warmth in his own smile, her interest only encourages as it would shift into that daring smirk that she found oddly exhilarating. Nothing about the tall, defined man reminded her of home and that was perhaps the best thing about him. The air about him was mysterious to her, bespoke of uncharted waters like nothing she could ever imagine, and she found that she ether liked this boldness that he roused in her. A bemused smirk answers her bold words and he moves over to the motorcycle with her, and sage eyes glitter beneath those thick lashes as he expresses a sense of confidence in the French young woman, something she was so unaccustomed to hearing from the many man who'd sought after her. Not even her father had expressed such confidence in Adelaide for some years now. She was finished thinking of that dreadful man though and as Taylor offered her the helmet, she accepts it though her gaze doesn't waver from him for a moment, quickly figuring out how to fasten the thing properly over her head and beneath her refined chin. It was a good thing she wasn't too worried about those dark cocoa locks that tumbled down to the middle of her back, cascading over her shoulders and breasts. Oh, if Townsend could see her now.

Watching intently as he throws one leg over their only mode of transportation that both terrified and excited her at the same time, he turns to pay the seat directly behind him with that smirk upon those handsome features as tenor tones tempt her further - not that she truly needed additional encouragement to brave this new experience only moments away."We shall see", she replies coyly, her own lips dance into a daring and almost impish smile as she carefully moves into place beside him. How long it had been since she'd been so close to a man... Suddenly the machine roars to life as he revved it and she feels her heart quicken with the rush, his words newest being drowned out though she is quick to wrap her arms around his waist, unable to ignore the hardness of muscle beneath that worn shirt as she presses her slender frame closely against his strong back. And then they are off, unbound hair streaming out behind her as the wind whipped through it. At first she had been nervous, but that feeling lasted only seconds when she realized that she enjoyed the exhilaration, the cold wind against her fair skin and in her dark hair, those lips alive with that excited smile. She couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled so much, and yet here she was with a man she only had a name to, smiling more than she had in years. He turns back to her then and speaks just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the Harley, his words causing lilted laughter to tumble into the wind around them."I find it difficult to think such things would be necessary, mon amie", she answers in accented lyrics as lips are merely inches away from his ears. They drive through the night and she guides him with the directions she was quick to learn, the buildings around them shifting into familiar shadows when she is able to see her own home, the front light burning like fire in the night."Up ahead", she says and when he brings the Harley to a gradual half in the driveway, she almost regrettably releasing her hold of his wait and discounts carefully. She then removes the helmet, sage eyes bright like the stars she could hardly see above them."I must admit, that was very exciting. I thoroughly enjoyed it though I believe next time I shall bring a hair tie with me", she speaks in satisfaction while she runs slender fingers through those long, tangled locks, flipping them around until they settled haphazardly over her shoulders.

So caught up in the night's ride she found herself hoping to experience again in the future, she's almost forgotten why they were back at her home until sage eyes looked down to see the wounds on his arm. The blood seemed to stop dripping now, most of it dried onto his skin, but she could only just see the slight gleam of shards in his skin under the light of the front door and illuminated windows. Obviously Townsend knew she would return - or at least he had likely hoped she would."Please, this way", she beckons before turning her back and walking along the paved pathway as up to the mahogany door. Just as she approaches with Taylor in tow behind her, it opens to reveal the blonde and well dressed Englishman with an collected appearance though she does not miss for a second the raised brow."Thank you, Townsend", she speaks to the Englishman lightly as though there wasn't an issue with the time of night by which she was returning home, and with a stranger no less."Miss LaBelle, I do hope you don't intend on disappearing like that again in the middle of the night", he says as she walks through the door. She offers the man an apologetic smile."I'm sorry, Townsend. I just needed some time away is all. Oh, and this is Monsieur Taylor. I met him at the local burlesque. If you could please retrieve a damp and warm washcloth with some peroxide, I would appreciate it", she says in a nearly nonchalant manner as if she were simply asking the time of day. The Englishman casts a wary eye to the man who enters just behind Adelaide, eyes widening only slightly as he noticed the bloody wounds."Yes, Miss Labelle... though I will certainly need to have a word with you about this later", he says firmly in those refined British tones as she closed the door behind them. Adelaide turns to Taylor then."Oh yes, the liquor I promised you. What would you like? We have a fine assortment of French whisky and wine - though I don't see you as a wine type of man. I believe we also have some Grey Goose", she says, a light note of teasing and in her silken words, sage eyes glittering as she gestures for Townsend to wait until the wounded man has a moment to choose the alcohol of his choice, thinking she could indulge in some finer wine as well. Anything she had here was certain. to be better than what the burlesque had to offer the young woman as far as her preferred drink was concerned.