This Pride and Prejudice oneshot was written for the birthday of wicked_thirteen on Twitter- happy birthday, Clare! The oneshot was a request from FraiseDandelion: what happened when Robin and Regina met from Robin's POV.

Robin stood in the corner of the room, observing the simplicity of the lives of the Americans. While their dances were elegant, so many of the details of the room around him were not as refined as those he was used to in England. The drapes on the windows were starting to look worn, the paint on the walls had begun to show its age. It was clear to him that although the hosts would deny it if asked, the wealth they had once had had been spent long ago in pursuit of material goods or worthwhile investments. Whether it had been spent on frivolous pursuits or strategic enterprises that had fallen through remained to be seen.

There had been moments on this venture when he had wondered why he had allowed the Booths to convince him to join them on their journey to the New World. The new country on this side of the great Atlantic Ocean was far too rustic for his taste, leaving him wondering if any true civilization could be found in places other than his home continent. But then he remembered the loss of his parents in that dreadful boating accident on the Thames so many years ago. He and Belle had been left orphans, and while he was old enough at the time to care for her on his own, he had been forever grateful to Marco for helping him resume life after their death. Their families had been close prior to the incident, but it was their loss that truly solidified their place in his life as family.

Only for his second family would he endure an entire evening as dreadful as this one. A fair portion of the evening was spent being introduced to the town's citizens. Although Arlington was close to the country's capital, he would not call it a city, given that the hustle and bustle of a nation's capital had not reached it yet. Though he was positive that they would deny it with an unmatched fervor, this town was far from the splendor of London.

And like the town itself, its citizens left a lot to be desired. Giggling like children, all lined up to meet the visitors as if they were Their Majesties themselves! While yes, he and the Booths were fortunate enough to have had an audience with the King and Queen, they were but servants to the crown, not royalty themselves.

Yet another group of women was currently approaching them. The woman who was clearly the matriarch seemed to be the worst of them, talking nonstop as the group approached. Her three daughters, who all resembled her in some way, trailed behind her. It seemed to him that they, like all the other women in the room, were simply there to gawk at them as if they were animals. The mother in particular seemed to be overly excited, and Robin had to wonder how much of her giddiness was reflected in her daughters.

At last they were introduced to the women, and it was only then that Robin noticed that the women were related to Henry Mills. The man had come to them the day before to introduce himself, and he looked at his family again, considering them from this new angle. Mr. Mills, by all accounts, was a respectable man, one worthy of the highest circles in many regards. But by the looks of his family, particularly Mrs. Mills, it was not immediately apparent that the female members of his family had had any education regarding the proper manners required at a formal event such as this. He had noticed Mrs. Mills with two young women previously, and those girls were just as ridiculous as their mother. It was no great leap of logic to deduce that her other three daughters would behave in the same way.

Despite his impression of their character, which was ultimately the most important, Robin had to admit that two of the Mills daughters were beautiful, but opposites in appearance. While Miss Malvina, who seemed the youngest of the three, was plain and unassuming, her sisters were striking, particularly Miss Emma, the eldest. Her golden hair was styled in such a way that her face could be fully seen, allowing an admirer to appreciate her angelic face, green eyes, and full lips.

Where her sister was the light, the middle Mills daughter, Miss Regina, was darkness. Much as he was loathe to admit it, he had to acknowledge that her curled raven hair had a certain beauty to it. However, that was the only redeeming quality about her appearance. He was a firm believer that one's eyes were the windows to their soul, but her eyes were expressionless, hinting at the simplicity of the woman within.

He caught August looking with rapture upon the eldest daughter, and he subtly nodded his approval. She was easily the most beautiful woman in the room, and therefore, a worthy candidate for his friend's affection. Whether her family was suitable or not, however, remained to be seen. However, he placed a high value on first impressions, and from what he had experienced thus far, they were simple, the lot of them, and not worthy of being connected to the esteemed Booth family.

August proceeded to dance with the eldest Mills daughter for the remainder of the evening, and while he did so, Robin observed the various peasants in the room, particularly the Mills family, as he conversed with Marco and Ruby. With the exception of the patriarch, the whole lot of them spent the evening dancing or engaged in conversation, the quality of which remained to be seen. If the elder Mills sisters were anything like their mother and younger sisters, the conversation was likely full of country gossip instead of conversation about literature or any other topic that displayed their intelligence.

At last he managed to spot his friend without the shadow that was the eldest Miss Mills. He seized the opportunity to pull him aside, their presence in the corner of the room blissfully ignored by passersby. "You have spent much time with the eldest Miss Mills this evening, August."

He nodded eagerly. "Why have you not found a lovely maiden to dance with? I have never seen so many handsome women in one bunch."

He scoffed. It was just like his best friend to see the good in everyone he met, regardless of their true nature. "You were dancing with the only handsome woman in the room."

August beamed. Robin doubted even the sun could shine as brightly as his companion's smile. "She is truly the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld." He paused, clearly contemplating suitable alternatives for him, his face lighting up when he had a solution. "But her sister Regina is very agreeable."

He attempted to picture her face, and while he could recall some of her features, the details were lost in the sea of new faces he had encountered that evening. Then, as he remembered her sister, the woman August had been dancing with all evening, he remembered her- Regina. Her name meant "queen," but her appearance hardly justified the elite status her name possessed. He scowled. "Barely tolerable. But not handsome enough to tempt me."

Suddenly, he heard a rustling of skirts, and he turned to see who had heard them, although he was fairly certain he knew without being told. While to a degree he was unconcerned with who had heard their conversation, he had to admit that if it was indeed Miss Mills, as he suspected he could understand why she would flee. All the same, though, he had merely spoken his opinion. If she was so delicate that she was unable to cope with a man such as he who was habitually unapologetic, then he need not concern himself with her wounded pride.

The look August was giving him suggested that he too had heard the commotion at the ballroom's doorway and come to the same conclusion he had. "Go after her," he ordered sternly.

While Robin was not one to bow to the whims of others, he had to admit that in this case, his friend was correct to an extent: he did owe Miss Mills an apology. However, when he entered the corridor, he found it deserted, void of the second Mills daughter and any other innocent bystanders. With that, he brushed the incident out of his mind, determined to make a formal apology should the topic arise, but equally convinced that he would not allow the incident to color the remainder of the evening.

So it was that he found himself standing near the house's exit, attempting to leave despite numerous women clamoring for his and his companions' attention. Honestly, the way they were swarming around them like a pack of wolves, it was ridiculous! Their disrespect irked him, for their behavior would have been unacceptable in London, and he was not inclined to forgive their ignorance. The societal rules that pervaded London should be the way the world operated in every country and in every social setting.

He saw the Mills family approaching them, and he braced himself. He was already exhausted from the persistent attention of the townsfolk, the last thing he needed was to encounter the younger Mills daughters and their mother for a second time. Once had been far too many times. In fact, if he had his wish, he would never see them again.

Then he remembered what Miss Regina had overheard, and he reconsidered. While her siblings and mother were intolerable, and it was likely that she was as well, he did owe her an apology, whether he liked to acknowledge that fact or not.

But before he could say a word, Mrs. Mills began speaking, and he knew his opportunity had been lost. The woman truly did not know how to have an intelligent conversation in more ways than one. While he only had a small circle of friends, he enjoyed thorough discourse with them, allowing them to express their opinion on a subject and then voicing his own thoughts on the topic at hand. But Mrs. Mills was rude to a fault, and he decided that it was perhaps better to simply remain silent.

But then the conversation turned to poetry, and he retracted his earlier decision. While it was not his favorite form of literature, he did enjoy the occasional foray into the discipline.

Then she claimed that poetry was not the food of love, and he had to ask what she recommended instead. How would anyone express their opinions if not in the form of the written word?

"Dancing. But only if one's partner is barely tolerable."

He should have known that he would receive his comeuppance for his words earlier that evening. He should have known that she would find some way to repay him for the disservice he had done her. But given her family's tendency to not be quick-witted, he had never suspected that one of the daughters would prove to have a sharp tongue that matched his own.

He remained speechless as she turned and walked away, but not before he caught the smirk on her face. She knew exactly what she had done, and she was rightly proud of bringing to light his rude behavior. Clearly, this woman was a force to be reckoned with, and he did not know what would occur when they met again.