The steady clopping sound of horses' hooves treading at an even pace brought Rogue's mind back to the present, and she wondered exactly when she had stopped paying attention to her scenic, almost picture perfect surroundings, and allowed her mind to wander off into daydreams. Saturday had finally arrived, and with it the Acquillas' all-day party that had apparently inspired Miss Ororo, Jean, and Kitty to practically throw eligible young men at Rogue as escorts to the ball. Rogue smirked as she remembered that afternoon when she'd returned to the plantation to discover herself the center of attention with Warren, Bobby, and Ray, her amusement growing when she recalled the unmistakable look of jealousy that had flashed briefly across Pietro's face before it was replaced at lightning speed by his usual arrogant smirk. Rogue's amusement soon disappeared, however, when she also recalled how she'd lied and said that she'd already promised all the dances to Remy when the Cajun hadn't even known about the party. At the time he'd simply leaned back on his horse and smirked and said nothing, but since then Rogue hadn't had a chance to catch him alone so that she could ask him whether he would escort her to the party after all. She'd tried to reassure herself by reasoning that Remy couldn't possibly be surrounded by people at all times, and that she'd be able to talk to him privately some other time. What she hadn't counted on was Saturday arriving so quickly, and now, as she sat in the carriage next to Jean and Kitty and watched the gentlemen riding on horses beside the young ladies, it was too late. Remy was riding a couple of paces in front of the carriage, carrying on a polite conversation with Charles Xavier. Once, when Kitty had been busy pointing out the families of blue jays and sparrows noisily fighting over the azalea shrubs to Jean, he'd glanced back and flashed a wink in her direction, but other than that Rogue had had no other signs as to whether he intended to be her escort at the party.

Just because she didn't know whether or not Remy would even spare a look in her direction that day, however, hadn't prevented her from dressing up in case he did dance with her. Ororo had laced the stays of her corset to form a nineteen-inch waistline, which made breathing difficult enough that she almost feared fainting at the party but dazzlingly showed off her new green moiré dress. Jean had lent her her diamond earrings, while Kitty had tucked a fragrant sprig of honeysuckle into her dark auburn hair lest the diamonds and conservative lemon verbena sachet give the impression that Rogue was any older than her fifteen years.

The extra primping worked, when the short trip to the Acquilla plantation ended and Rogue happened to be the first girl to step out of the carriage. Immediately, young men who had previously passed her over as merely the charming Misses Jean and Kitty's ill-tempered sister now rushed and jostled each other to help her out of the carriage, to hold her hand, to fan her face and neck, to get her drinks and garlands that she had no use for, and to request dances for the ball that evening. The fact that everybody assumed Miss Jean's engagement to Pietro Maximoff would be announced that evening had taken the statuesque older redhead pretty much off the market, and now her suitors flocked to Rogue, who only a mere two weeks earlier had appeared her usual petulant and surly self at the Summers' party and who had now reappeared as a dazzling belle. Rogue nearly fainted at this sudden onslaught of new beaus that had rushed at her, trying to push through the sea of ruffled shirts and starched breeches to see where Remy was. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught a glimpse of Kitty being dragged off by Kurt to see something amazing that he just had to show her, while at the same time Pietro sauntered over to greet his bride-to-be, sweeping down with a flourish as he bowed at Jean while catching Rogue's eye at the same time and smirking and making a gesture of tipping his hat, which he'd just taken off a few moments earlier to greet Miss Amara and now his future fiancée, in her direction. Rogue frowned irritably at the blush which had seeped up her cheeks at Pietro's gesture, before shaking away mental images of the smirking silver-haired youth and continuing to try and look for Remy. Her eyebrows slanted together sharply above her olive-green eyes in poorly concealed anger, when Ray nearly slapped a harsh red mark right against her snow-white cheek with a palmetto fan, then nearly sneezed when St. John Allerdyce thrust a cluster of orchids practically right up her nostrils. This has gone on long enough, Rogue thought dryly to herself. If Ah don't get away from all these so-called suitors, Ah'll definitely suffer one kind of injury or another before the morning party's even over! There was also the fact that she wanted to talk to Remy, to merely catch a glimpse of him, even, which was rather hard to do when Bobby's silly grinning face was hovering right in front of her own more delicate one, asking if he could bring her another glass of water.
"Ah told you already--" Rogue began to snap frostily, forgetting all of Miss Ororo's careful teachings on manners and etiquette, before an idea suddenly formulated in her head about how she could ditch her suitors and seek out Remy. She smoothed her features into a saccharine sweet smile, fluttering her eyelashes in what she hoped was a coquettish fashion as she murmured, "Ah would appreciate some water, after all, if you'll be so kind as to fetch me some." Bobby was off like a shot, and Rogue next turned her attention to St. John, cooing sweetly, "And John, those orchids were lovely, but you know mah favorite flower is the fuchsia..."

After five minutes, all her unwanted suitors had been sent off on one little errand or another, and Rogue was about to head off and search for Remy when she felt a small, shy tug on the rustling green skirts of her moiré dress. She turned around slowly, only to realize that one young man still remained.
"Miss Rogue? Is there anything I can do for you?" a blushing twelve-year-old Jamie Maddox asked timidly, and Rogue internally cringed and searched for the gentlest way to turn the young boy down.
"Oh, Jamie," she began earnestly, "please don't take this the wrong way, but..." At that moment, Kitty's carefree laughter sounded, and her ears perked up and she quickly changed the subject, "Ah'm not supposed to tell you this, Jamie, but mah sister, Kitty, thinks rather highly of you." Jamie's face flushed with delight and embarrassment, as he echoed in awe, "Is it true? Miss Kitty likes me?" Rogue felt guilty about unloading the twelve-year-old little boy on Kitty...but then again, she was the one who'd set her up with Ray Crisp and his palmetto fan, after all, and the auburn-haired girl soon convinced herself that this was just a highly appropriate thank you gift.
"Absolutely true, Jamie, the only reason she's talking to Kurt now is because you're not supposed to know until you're old enough to start courting girls," she lied with a straight face. "However, Ah'm sure mah sister will appreciate a little attention from you--nothing big, just a carnation, maybe, or a request to sit by her side at dinner..." Jamie frowned thoughtfully, looked over in the direction of Kitty, who was still chatting with Kurt, and squared his twelve-year-old shoulders as though preparing to go off to battle.
"All right, then," he said, and Rogue gave him a small push in Kitty's direction, barely containing her laughter as the brown-haired boy determinedly marched off.

All of Rogue's would-be suitors were now taken care of, especially the ones that Miss Ororo and her sisters had tried to set her up with--Warren seemed much more interested in Jean than in Rogue, and was currently carrying on a pleasant conversation with the statuesque redhead, whose dashing silver-haired future fiancé had slipped off to somewhere. Hot-tempered Ray, whose only reason for calling on Rogue in the first place was because of Kitty's prodding, had found his way to a boulder under a huge oak tree, and was now brooding and glowering beneath its shade. And Bobby, who'd initially been smitten by Rogue's suddenly more dazzling appearance, had paused on his way to get her some water and was now watching in amusement as Kitty tried to shake off Jamie in vain. Rogue held in her laughter, lest she risk fainting from how tightly her corset was laced, and discreetly slipped away from where most of the youths were gathered, intent on looking for Remy and finding out his true feelings about her promising all her dances to him. She spotted a tall youth leaning against a young tree, with an air of gallantry and self-assurance that only Remy could have, his hat sitting smartly atop his head to shade it from the hot sun. Rogue eagerly sped up her pace to a light trot, and swiftly approached him as quickly as her dainty velvet slippers and her corset would allow her.

"Remy, Ah'm sorry if Ah was being too forward and unladylike when Ah told everyone that Ah'd already promised all the dances to you when you hadn't even asked," she began apologetically, slightly out of breath from having jogged while being tightly laced into her nineteen-inch waistline. The young man turned around upon hearing her words, and Rogue felt her face drain of all color when she realized, to her dismay, that he was certainly not Remy LeBeau. Pietro grinned lazily in her direction, flicking off a small leaf that had just fallen onto the shoulder of his coat, before drawling with his trademark arrogant sneer, "So I see, the dashing Mr. LeBeau hadn't even asked you yet for a single dance that day...and nor has he still, I'm willing to bet." Rogue scowled, her eyes flaring cold emerald as she snapped, "And so what if he hadn't? It was still better at the moment than having to stand your jeers!" Pietro opened his blue eyes their widest, reminding her with fake concern, "My, my, Miss Rogue, it's certainly an unladylike trait to lie like that. I wonder what Miss Ororo would think of it if she knew."
"She doesn't know," Rogue replied, tight-lipped but now wary. "And you will never tell her, not if you expect any peace and quiet in your marriage to mah sister." Pietro looked only amused by her angry threat, which served to infuriate her all the more, as he drawled lazily, "Do go on, I'm quite interested in hearing just how you plan to make my married life completely miserable if I inform Miss Ororo of your ungracefully bold ways." Rogue scowled, snapping in her rage, "For one thing, Ah would never let any sister of mine be married to an arrogant scoundrel like you!"
"Well, nobody can accuse you of lacking ambition and courage in that case, then," came the playful retort, and Rogue's eyes narrowed before she suddenly saw just how much Pietro was enjoying teasing her and watching her furious but helpless and weak responses to his taunts. The auburn-haired girl set her lips in a firm line, telling herself that if a Maximoff was going to make an amusing show out of her emotions, then by God she would turn the tables on him.
"Why thank you for the compliment, Mr. Maximoff," she abruptly shifted gears, smoothing her eyebrows which had before slanted sharply across her forehead at Pietro's goading. "Ah always knew you'd appreciate some strength and personality rather than just silly and giggling empty vessels." Pietro looked suspicious at her sudden change in personality, before realization dawned upon him and he wasted no time in flirting back, "And you're certainly quite the classy lady to notice that and praise me for it, when it's obvious you would much rather hit me before running off to find that so very charming Cajun gentleman of yours, now isn't it?" Rogue pretended to be surprised, fluttering her eyelashes innocently and replying, "Why, Ah haven't the faintest where you would get that idea from, Pietro. You know Ah've always admired you as the most dashing gentleman this state has to offer; Ah would never dream of laying one finger against you!" It was getting rather silly now, and Rogue herself could barely contain her laughter when she saw the look on Pietro's face at her attempt at charming him by bestowing him with the title of the most dashing gentleman in Mississippi. Unfortunately for her, Pietro had noticed her barely concealed mirth as well, changing direction and telling her with a smirk, "Come on, go ahead and laugh. You know you want to...just don't faint, all right, because I'm the last person here who would be walking around carrying smelling salts!"
"Ah don't know what you're talking about," Rogue tried to keep a straight face, but already a grin was peeking out from the corners of her lips as she gushed, "Why would little old me laugh at such a, um, gallant and noble and handsome gentleman?" Pietro threw back his head and laughed outright, nearly causing Rogue to do so as well, but her own mirth quickly disappeared when he informed her with poorly concealed mockery, "Why Miss Rogue, you must not have been paying much attention when Miss Ororo tried to teach you about flattery, because your attempts at being charming are downright hilarious!" Rogue scowled, shooting back icily, "And you yourself must not have been paying much attention when your father tried to teach you about etiquette, either, Mr. Maximoff, because you're still the biggest cad the South has ever been cursed with!" And she spun on her heels and stalked off, her skirts swishing loudly and the honeysuckle in her hair trailing a fragrant breeze in the air after her, while Pietro simply leaned back and watched the departing girl with an unreadable smirk on his face.


Evening had arrived, and with it came the much anticipated ball as the stately Acquilla mansion glittered like a star amid the velvety darkness of twilight with its diamond-and-gold chandelier lighting up the dance floor. Rogue irritably blew away a strand of hair that was forever falling into her eyes, watching the young girls in their brightly-colored hoop skirts and flashy jewelry dancing with beaus. After storming away from Pietro that morning, Rogue had tried in vain to find Remy and have a private conversation with him, but when she finally managed to catch a glimpse of the Cajun, Tabitha Smith had practically latched herself onto his arms and dragged him off to see the flower garden with her. Rogue was still furious at the blonde bombshell for that particular incident, especially considering how Remy's eyes had met hers and he'd made a movement as though to head across the plantation grounds toward her, before Tabitha had popped out of nowhere dragged him away. Rogue had bristled over the particular incident, but didn't have time to dwell on the thought of Remy with Tabitha for too long, because at that moment John showed up to offer her a hastily thrown together bouquet of fuchsias she barely remembered she'd asked of him, muttering something about how Mrs. Acquilla wouldn't be too happy the next morning when she went to inspect her flower beds. Afterwards, Rogue had spent the rest of the morning dodging one suitor after another while trying to get a moment alone with Remy, which she soon discovered was pretty much impossible when she'd found him surrounded by a growing group of giggling girls, Tabitha still latched firmly onto his arm. He'd only glanced up once, somehow sensing her presence a few yards away from his cluster of adoring fans, but the minute he'd looked her in the eye Rogue had gathered her skirts and walked away as well, much like she did from Pietro a couple of hours earlier.

Rogue now watched the dancing couples underneath the massive, elegant chandelier, slouching down further in her seat and ignoring the disapproving glances the matrons seated nearby were shooting in her direction. So what if they thought she was acting like a wallflower, or that she demonstrated bad etiquette through her posturing, or that she was fast for having been surrounded by so many admirers that morning only to have sent each and every single one of them away by noon. Rogue could barely resist rolling her eyes heavenward, settling instead for forcefully tucking her unruly strand of hair behind her ear.
"Having fun?" a dismayingly familiar male voice spoke up from directly in front of her, and Rogue started at the sound of his voice, flustered that in her sour mood she'd failed to even realize he was approaching until he was standing right in front of her.
"Ah don't have the patience for your little games, Pietro, so why don't you go ahead and just say what you want," she told him in a listless voice, too tired of the party to even sound angry.
"I didn't come all the way here just to insult you," Pietro told her innocently, "if that's what you were thinking."
"Of course not," Rogue humored him with half-hearted sarcasm, darting him a testy look as she demanded, "So what did you come here for, then?"
"To ask you if you wanted to dance," he surprised her by saying, without a single hint of mockery in his voice. Rogue glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, her brows lowered suspiciously over them as she echoed, "To dance? Why with me?" Pietro shrugged.
"Well, I couldn't let a lovely young lady such as yourself just sit in some corner with the washed up old matrons and sulk and pout, like you're doing right now," he told her, and Rogue frowned at the insult that had been snuck into his compliment about her being lovely. "And besides, your sister seems more interested in talking about books and music with that Englishman than in dancing--hey, not my fault I've got better things to do, like marksmanship and gambling and riding horses, than sit down and read old plays by some guy who's been dead for over two hundred years so I can discuss them with her!"
"Yeah, God forbid you do something intellectual every once in a while," Rogue muttered dryly under her breath, and Pietro shot her a smirk.
"You're one to talk, there, Miss Rogue," he reminded her in that maddening tone of his, "considering how you don't exactly have a stellar academic record yourself." Rogue glared at him.
"If that's the way you think you'll convince me to dance with you," she gritted out acidly, "then forget it. Ah'd rather be a wallflower than dance with someone who seems to have nothing better to do than insult me."
"I'm sorry," Pietro apologized smoothly, and Rogue blinked in surprise, never expecting those humbling two words, no matter how carelessly spoken or insincere-sounding, to ever come out of a Maximoff's lips. "So, then, Miss Rogue, may I have this dance?" Rogue debated with herself, already feeling the matrons' eyes fixed on her like hawks, waiting to judge her actions with her sister's future fiancé. Why not? a voice in her mind argued. Who cares what these old shrews think about you, anyway, they're always gossipping...and besides, it's not as if Remy'll just miraculously show up and ask you to dance; he's probably too busy entertaining Tabitha and Amara and all those other girls.
"Ah guess so..." she began to say, her voice trailing off uncertainly before she could complete a full sentence.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Maximoff, that Miss Rogue here won't be able to dance with you tonight," a familiar voice tinged with a rolling accent that was a mixture of French and Southern spoke up. Both Rogue and Pietro looked over in the speaker's direction, and Remy LeBeau glanced right back with amused, easygoing red-tinted black eyes.
"After all," he continued smoothly, "she'd already promised all the dances to me that afternoon we rode back to the plantation, or have you forgotten that?" A stretch of silence fell over the group, before Rogue was the first one to speak up and break it.
"Of course not, Mr. LeBeau," she replied graciously, standing up and smoothing over her full skirts. "Why, Ah'll be delighted to dance with you."