The ball at the Villa was, as expected, extremely lavish and I almost got lost trying to find the ballroom. There was a man, that I befriended, shoveling appetizers in his mouth. Later, I learned that his name is Vittorio Ascanio Ranieri Malaspina Scardaccione and he's a painter, I think I might have seen a painting or two in some nobleman's sitting room's walls.
The thing I noticed the most about him were his worn clothes, from a few seasons ago... not exactly horrible but surely not in the latest style, with fading colors on the hem of his waistcoat and some applique starting to come undone on the back, where he can't really see it.

I am so glad that I befriended him, for knowing him was the stepping stone to meeting Margherita, daughter of the countess Montecchio-Ubaldoni, the host of the ball. We noticed her late arrival and her obvious hiding from someone in the crowd, only reappearing later. Even from across the room I could tell she was really handsome, and built like a soldier. Her short hair were caressing her forehead, and she was wearing the latest fashions, even if with a bizzare motif on her waistcoat. Immediately, I tried to have a dance with her, if not for her breathtaking eyes, at least to finance my lastest project, but I couldn't even imagine what kind of night this was going to be. I knew from the moment that she took my hand that I was already falling in love, or at least in lust.

I had to patiently wait though, for the end of the operetta until I could meet the both of them again. While I was getting ready I managed to sneak a look into the garden, where Margherita and Vittorio were fencing to entertain the crowd. He was surprisingly good, considering his small stature and even smaller presence of physical strenght. I really enjoyed seeing her exerting in such a beautiful light, I got to see her cheeks flush a bit, and her neck was glistening with sweat after all the duels she took part in. Almost everyone that challenger her ended up with their bottom on the grass, except for Vittorio, full of surprises.

I almost missed the firework as I was busy changing after the operetta, so I went out with a robe and just a little underneath, but I managed to catch them. That was, before Margherita reached me and carried me away, into the dark villa and up the stairs, where her bed was waiting for me... truly, I never had such a night before. Not that I haven't had great lovers, just never as great as her. I wonder if I'll hear again from her, or if I should just cherish last night and move on with my life...

p.s. while she was carrying me away I noticed Vittorio was being led by Azrael, the secretary of Pietro Orlandi, into the labyrinth in the garden... has he gotten lucky too? I should write to him about it.

As soon as I finished writing the last entry and was gathering supplies to write to Vittorio, I heard a knock at my door. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and Margherita's eyes were staring back at me from behind a boquet of flowers! She apologized for the late hour as I let her in, holding my robe closed with a hand, fearful of looking too much liek a flirt, but she gave me a kiss on the lips as a greeting and my hand fell.
I obviously thanked her for the flower, which were beautiful, and went looking for a vase to hold them. She, who had just found her hands were free, surprised me when I turned my back on her my placing those same hands on my hips and pulling me closer. I really shouldn't write these things, and I really wish I could say that I kept my composure and found a home for those poor flowers, but they laid as I did on the bed all night, and I had to rescue them this morning before she was lucid enough to notice me missing from the sheets.
She is truly driving me mad, and I'll let her. Maybe forever.

Dear Vittorio,
I really enjoyed our time together at the ball the other evening, and I have a feeling you would like to exchange how our each of our evening has ended. Would you be inclined to meet me at the pâtisserie downtown? I've heard word that the owner has taken a mistress unbeknownst to his wife, and I think we will both enjoy talking about his questionable taste in hats.
If you don't accept my invite, please let me know, so I do not look like a fool outside the shop.

Your friend,
Mademoiselle Nizinskaja