Chapter Text
Lord William Fife embraced opportunities.
In the glittering halls of London's high society, where secrets dance like shadows, he’d learned at a young age that a missed chance could spell misery.
Ah, the delicious thrill of seizing the right moment, the perfect chance that aligns with one's ambitions. It's a dance, and Lord Fife considered himself the master of steps.
Opportunism is not a mere strategy, to be clear. One needs to know people and play them as one might play a violin or… harp. A well-timed introduction, whispered confidence, or discreet dalliance could transform the trajectory of one's fate.
Society may frown upon an opportunistic spirit, but it is opportunity that propels individuals forward in this intricate game of power and influence.
At least, that is what William believed.
As he navigated the grand ballrooms, masked beneath an affable façade, William saw opportunities shimmering like diamonds waiting to be claimed—a veritable mine.
A strategic alliance with a prominent family, a whispered rumor strategically planted to sway opinion, or a timely revelation that could alter the course of a budding romance – these are the instruments of his orchestration.
Lord Fife considered himself a master of his craft.
After all, had he not had a second somewhat enjoyable time with Miss Goring in that closet at the Featherington Ball, William may not have learned of Lord Featherington’s misdeeds.
William never entered into any agreements with the swindler. An opportunist he may be, but he was most certainly not daft. He could see the mechanizations from a distance, and so he maintained his. Passing off glass as precious gems. How unfortunate that others were so impacted by the villain’s dealings.
He drew the edge of the champagne glass to his lips and watched.
There she was, returned from the countryside where her family sought refuge from the gossip following Lord Featherington’s flight from England. Her blue eyes slid past him as she scanned the crowd. Miss Penelope Featherington was searching the ballroom. For a while longer, Lord Fife observed, waiting for the moment she realized that Colin Bridgerton did not dare show his face.
Not after Lady Whistledown's summary of his words at the Featherington Ball.
The band struck up a lively tune. William began to move, edging his way through the throngs. He settled heavy hands on shoulders in greetings he hardly meant. His goal was in one of her corners, keen eyes taking in the details, whispers, and glances. There was a kind of thrill in a new opportunity. It made his hands tingle and his heart race.
When he drew to a stop ten feet from her, her eyes did not slide past him again. They focused on him for a few scant seconds. So often, her eyes would move past him, beyond him, to wherever Bridgerton stood. After a while, he had accepted her as off-limits, a none sum, a loss. Lord William Fife was an opportunist, but he did not go where he was not wanted and he certainly did not seek the company of his mates' intendeds.
He asked a simple question. A well-timed question, yes, but a question with many answers that could have resolved every doubt. Bridgerton could have responded as a mature man might have. A simple "no" would have sufficed. Or a simple "yes" if Bridgerton had a brain between his ears. Bridgerton could have changed the subject.
"Never in your wildest fantasies, Fife."
If he did not bait Colin Bridgerton into being an ass in front of her…
Well, William was never one to ignore an opportunity.