Foreign Affairs {Halvard}

 

Baltic Coast, Russia | 10 February 2003

Ivan would owe her for this.

Striving to keep the serene expression on her face, Iraida Lvovna Ilyina sipped delicately on her glass of champagne.  What was supposed to be a relaxing night out had, at the last minute, turned into an assignment.  Ivan, who had supposedly been called into some kind of emergency meeting at the office, had asked her to keep an eye on a colleague until he arrived.  Some foreigner.  She was to do her best to charm him, make him feel welcome, and keep him from getting offended by Ivan’s tardiness.  While she despised being used as a pawn in the schemes of her older brother’s business dealings, Ira knew that having him owe her could prove to be quite valuable.  It was that thought alone that made this task seem at all bearable.

The elegantly decorated room was occupied by approximately two dozen or so, with more arriving by the moment.  Trays carrying zakuski and flutes of champagne floated deftly amongst the crowd, whilst more complicated drinks could be ordered from the bar.  Ira knew it wouldn’t be long before the bottles of vodka appeared, accompanied by toasts to one another’s good health – the first would be unavoidable, but after which she might respectfully abstain from.  Ira would be leaving before things got too rowdy.

It was a somewhat informal gathering of society’s high-fliers.  An opportunity to mingle and make connections.  Diplomatic Employee Day – Ira had rolled her eyes at the thought.  She didn’t believe it was a real holiday.  More likely just another excuse for the self-important diplomats to pat themselves on the back and drink to excess on a Monday night.  Her father and mother were not in attendance tonight, which was of great relief to Ira, who appreciated having a break from her mother’s nitpicking and her father’s stern demeanor.  It was only with the solemn promise from her older brother that he would look after her that Ira was allowed to attend – a promise which Ivan was certainly already violating by being late.

Ira had chosen a simple black dress for the evening, which hung somewhat loosely over her slender form.  It had cap sleeves, a bateau neckline, a tight waist and a long skirt.  A sheer fabric at the top and down the back revealed her collarbones and shoulder blades, while the skirt hugged her hips and draped to the floor.  She felt it was both professional and elegant; fitting for the night’s event.  Her heels, not visible beneath her skirt, gave her a couple of extra inches in height, and her brown locks were twisted into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck.  Earrings of garnet and gold dangled from her ears, and the Ilyin family crest hung around her neck.

Turning her back on the crowded room, Ira gazed through the tall windows and across the silent sea.  The moon had not yet risen, making the stars shine more brightly through the infinite blackness.  She might have enjoyed venturing out onto the balcony for a closer look, if only it weren’t the dead of winter, and perhaps if she’d had some company.  She busied herself instead by engaging in conversation with one of her father’s associates and his wife.  She laughed politely at his joke – one she heard him make more than once – complimented her choice of gown, and asked after their children.  One of the attendants soon informed her of her guest’s arrival, and so Ira made her way gracefully toward the door.

“You must be Mr. Halvard Selwyn,” she said with a warm smile, extending her hand for him to take.  “I am Iraida Lvovna Ilyina.  Pleasure to meet you.”  Her English was practiced and perfect, with the faint accent of her native tongue detectable on her words.  “I’m afraid my brother has been held up at work.  I hope you won’t mind my keeping you company until he arrives.”  Ira’s dark eyes cast themselves briefly up and down the man before her.  Without giving him much opportunity to represent himself, Ira was already making judgements of him.  He was exquisitely dressed, much to her approval.  Very handsome in the face as well.  Younger than she had expected, perhaps close to her own age.  She wondered what it was he had to offer that Ivan was interested in.

Now what?  Ira was expected to entertain him for the foreseeable future, until Ivan returned to rescue her or the gentleman found a reason to excuse himself… which, if she fulfilled her duties as expected, would not be any time soon.  “Would you like something to drink?” she offered, gesturing in the direction of the bar.  Would he opt for champagne, like herself, or something stronger?

“I hope you are finding your time in Russia enjoyable so far, Mr. Selwyn.”  And why was that name so familiar?  She must have read it somewhere, perhaps.
 
 

The invitation to join Ivan Ilyin for a semi-casual celebration of 'Diplomatic Employee Day' had been graciously received and accepted by Halvard Selwyn.  As it approached, the British diplomat found himself greatly looking forward to the event.  The holiday itself rather tickled his fancy but better yet, it was an ideal setting to finalise agreements.  He was eager to finish discussing the potential of a mutually beneficial trade enterprise between Britain and Russia.  Experienced as Hal was in the diplomatic arts, he knew well that some of the best deals were settled outside of the office.  Parties and social gatherings were just somehow less stifling to cooperation.  It was quite disappointing to Halvard then to receive a late message advising that Mr Ilyin had been delayed and would be unable to make their rendezvous at the scheduled time.  He was left to wonder if this was a tactic on the other man's part, intended to keep Hal off balance.  Of course, such a novice strategy would not shake his confidence in the slightest. 

Briefly, he considered not attending the party at all, since if Mr Ilyin had better things to do than keep his commitments then the same went for Halvard Selwyn doubly.  He did not particularly appreciate having his time wasted.  There was little stopping Hal from finding another Russian contact to make negotiations with, aside from the fact it would be frustrating to start from scratch with someone new.  Ultimately Halvard decided to be lenient in his judgement and give Ivan the benefit of the doubt this once.  In all other dealings with the wizard, he had appeared to be a reliable sort and worth maintaining a relationship with.  It was quite possible that something unavoidable had actually arisen last minute.  Further, as a gesture of apparent goodwill, Ivan had offered for his own sister to meet Hal in his stead.  It seemed impolite to stand the poor girl up.

Halvard entered the party with an air of casual assurance; slipping out of his fur coat and handing it off to an attendant with one smooth movement.  The dark-haired man paused in the foyer, perfectly poised, to cast a discerning eye over the gathering.  One hand ran down the front of his emerald-green dinner jacket almost absentmindedly as he wondered which of the young ladies in attendance was Ms Iraida Lvovna Ilyina.  The question was one quickly answered when a beautiful woman in a black dress approached Hal from across the room.  Any disappointment he had previously been feeling about the night promptly disapparated at the sight of her.  Ivan could take his time arriving for all Hal cared at that moment.  Trade agreements were suddenly the last thing on his mind. 
 
She was a stunning creature by his assessment.  Her graceful stride and elegant choice of attire - the perfect balance of modest and sensual - betrayed her good breeding.  Looking at her, it was clear that here was a woman of class.  Slender of form with hair like dark silk and eyes of such a rich deep brown that Halvard felt like he could fall into them and get lost...  Ms Ilyina was exactly his type.

Ivan Ilyin, you bastard.  What're you playing at?  Hal would need to keep his guard up, least he end up selling out his homeland too cheaply - all for a pretty face.   Yet Iraida had only just begun introductions and already the diplomat felt his resolve crumbling.  He took her offered hand gently in one of his own and could not resist the opportunity to raise it to his lips, brushing her fingers with the lightest kiss before releasing them; unable to take his eyes off her the whole time.

Belatedly realising he hadn't spoken, Hal cleared his throat softly.  "My apologies Ms Ilyina, but the sight of you is enough to render any man speechless."  There was little discernible accent to his voice, which was generically European.  It would scarcely be possible to tell he was British from hearing him speak, since Halvard had spent just as much time speaking foreign tongues as he had his native language.  When it came down to it, he probably sounded more German than anything else (which surely puzzled many of the people who met him).  As he continued, the smile Hal turned on Iraida was warm with the glow of his admiration for her.  "It is a delight to make your acquaintance.  Although it was cruel of your brother not to warn me of your loveliness.  I find myself quite..."  He paused then, holding her gaze for as long as he could without seeming improper.  "... disarmed."  No doubt what Ivan had intended.

Remembering himself a little, Halvard looked away quickly.  His words had rung with more truth than flattery.  The diplomat was feeling a little unsettled; an uncommon experience for him – Hal was used to being in control.  Presently it seemed like he was losing all advantage in the situation, so strongly was he being effected by the young woman's presence.  The most intelligent course would be to politely excuse himself as soon as possible.  Yet Hal had no desire to do so.  Tonight he rather wanted to play the fool - the fool that Iraida would no doubt make him. 

"A drink would be appreciated, thank you."  Keeping his gaze away from bewitching brunette as much as possible (but inevitably stealing discrete glances whenever he thought she wasn’t looking), Halvard followed her towards the bar.  "What would you recommend?  The champagne?"  Internally he prayed that she wouldn't say ‘vodka’.  If he started drinking anything that strong so early, he'd lose his head completely. 

"I hope you won't consider me too forward but if it pleases you Miss, I would be glad if you would address me by my first name.  Mr Selwyn feels so formal, don't you think?"  Halvard smiled at her again, his light blue eyes twinkling brightly.  He didn’t ask, yet hoped for permission to address her informally as well.  The Pureblood wizard had great respect for rules of social conduct but they could be rather suffocating sometimes.  It would be easier to get to know this Russian beauty if they didn’t have to stand too much on formalities.  Still, he wouldn't presume but would let her decide the boundaries. 

“Russia has been most enjoyable, thank you.  I could say that it is my favourite place in the world to visit,” Hal’s tone was light and almost teasing, then deepened as he leaned towards Iraida in a conspiratorial fashion, “but would you believe me?  Or would you think that’s simply what I tell every country?”  The grin on his face was playful as he gently tested what preconceptions his companion might possess about someone of his profession.  “It’s alright.  You can tell me at any time if you consider me insincere.”  Halvard chuckled as he waited for her response with interest.  He was eager to discover what kind of mind the socialite possessed and whether it was as delightful as her outward appearance.  “As for yourself, have you ever visited the British Isles?"

What is this?!  Ira allowed a surprised (but still genial) expression to play across her features.  She could hardly have anticipated such a warm hello.  Was this another potential suitor?  Had Ivan set her up?  He could have at least clued her in, had that been his intention.  Yet her older brother always did seem to enjoy putting Ira on uneven footing.  Raising one eyebrow, a smirk danced along her painted lips.  Certainly she would like to think her beauty was enough to disarm a man with a simple smile – what girl didn’t? – but she knew better.  Halvard Selwyn was exaggerating for the sake of flattery, in hopes of making a good first impression.  And, in spite of Ira knowing better, it was working… a bit. 

“I thank you, sir…” she said, politely bewildered.  “Certainly, you are too kind.”  She withdrew her hand from his grasp, reaching up to fiddle bashfully with her necklace briefly, before dropping it to her side – one mustn’t fidget.  Would it be inappropriate to confess that she was pleased by his beauty as well?  His features looked as though they had been carved by a master craftsman.  Not to mention, he had a dazzling smile and a liveliness in his blue eyes that was as intimidating as it was enrapturing.  She fancied that perhaps they were the two most attractive people in the entire room.

“Yes, the champagne is quite good.”  Ira waved a hand gently, summoning one of the floating trays toward them.  She reached for a flute of the sparkling beverage and handed it to him.  Now they ought to make a toast, as was proper.  She raised her glass towards his, tilted her chin upward, and smiled warmly.  “Za druzhbu myezhdu narodami!” she said with gusto.  “In other words, ‘to friendship between nations,’” she explained, before clinking her glass against his.  Ira knew not if Selwyn spoke any Russian, only that Ivan’s letter had advised her to use English.  Curious, for his accent sounded distinctly more German than English to her.

Upon his next request, Ira’s lips pursed ever so slightly.  It was a long-standing pet peeve of hers, when a perfect stranger asked if they could address one another informally.  She interpreted it as a sign of disrespect.  Perhaps Mr Selwyn didn’t take her seriously?  Ira did her best not to allow her annoyance to play too strongly across her features, dismissing it as a cultural difference.  “Formalities exist for a reason,” she chided light-heartedly.  “We’d best observe them a bit longer, I think, while we get to know each other.”

Nevertheless, something about the man’s demeanor set Ira at ease.  She found his playfulness charming.  It would take a bit more assessment to determine if his charm and relaxed friendliness were true reflections of his character, or if it was merely a mask he wore in public.  “I would not doubt your sincerity for an instant, good sir, for there is no finer country in the world.”  Ira’s devotion to her country was just as strong as her pride for her family and her heritage.  He couldn’t have answered her question any more perfectly, both stoking her patriotism but also acknowledging that he may only have been doing so out of good manners.  It was a fine line that Ira was quite accustomed to walking.

“Many times,” she conceded, and it was a challenge not to grimace as she answered this question.  She had few fond memories of his homeland.  “But only for business, never for pleasure, I’m afraid.”  What could be found pleasurable about the British Isles was beyond her comprehension.  “Tell me, did you grow up there?  Forgive me, but I find your accent most unusual for the region.”  She batted her eyelashes at him in open curiosity as she took another ship of champagne.