Heh. I never wore platforms - plastic in both ankles, not a good idea. But the very tip of a medium-thin heel makes a great small hammer.

OK, lovely writers, help me brainstorm again. I've drafted a lovely little dance scene off in the shadows for Jack and Anna, in her POV, culminating in what I happen to think is a wonderfully romantic and poignant near-kiss that he pulls away from at the last minute. I've got them awkwardly avoiding any mention of what just happened, him escorting her back to the tent she's sharing with another lady, and them having the bad luck to get there just in time to run into the dreaded villain-to-be lieutenant walking the other lady back.

But I'm having trouble figuring out what to do with them now. I feel like I should stay in Anna's POV just a little longer, but I can't for the life of me manage to write the combo of horniness and guilt over being attracted to another man with her husband just dead that she ought to be feeling without it falling flat. So I'm tempted to go straight to Jack's head, because I think I know exactly what he's thinking and feeling right now. But I'll have to get Anna's reaction eventually, and I am stuck stuck stuck. A major comedown from my giddy writer-high of the last week, this is.

To elaborate a little, I need them to be aware of the mutual attraction, but in just enough denial about what it means that they think the mere fact of the social gulf between them is enough to keep them from acting on their feelings no matter what the circumstances. And I feel like he's probably just a little angry at her at the moment--that he (at least somewhat justifiably) senses that she was using him for her own comfort without thinking about the consequences because he's so far beneath her socially. However, he can't be TOO angry, because the whole plot hinges on him being able to say wholeheartedly two days from now that anyone who means harm toward Anna will have to come through him first.

Perhaps Anna could be worrying about what the villan and the other lady might be thinking about her, afraid she might be considered one of those Merry Widow types who's lining up the next conquest before the starch has worn out of the mourning clothes. Then she can consider that Jack is, despite his class, a perfect gentleman and would never take advantage of a new widow. While she's considering his sterling qualities, she can realize that a new widow properly shouldn't have been noticing all those sterling qualities, and she can feel guilty for thinking those sorts of things.

Mmm, that's good. Thanks, connie!

t glares at own WIPs and contemplates the pleasures of playing in other people's sand boxes

You're always welcome, Susan.

That's an excellent take. I think there's also some nice mileage possible in the dichotomy between their two takes: she's bound to be guiltier than guilty (since the marriage to the husband she's supposed to be mounring was wretched in the extreme, yes?), and not even considering that he's beneath her socially. And because it's important to him, it would never occur to him that the class difference might be the last thing on her mind.

But it's also a superb opening for two days later, because his own feelings would likely come very clear to him with that upsurge of protectiveness.

I think there's also some nice mileage possible in the dichotomy between their two takes: she's bound to be guiltier than guilty (since the marriage to the husband she's supposed to be mounring was wretched in the extreme, yes?), and not even considering that he's beneath her socially.

Yes, her marriage was pretty hellish. Her husband was pompous, overbearing, and more than a bit of a chauvinist even by the standards of the time. So even though she didn't hate him enough to be glad he's dead, she can't help but be glad to be free of him. It's all recent enough that she hasn't had time to come to terms with it and is dealing with wild mood swings, and she's stuck in a situation where she's never alone, but never has anyone she could trust enough to confide in, either. And she's full of guilt over not being able to mourn her husband properly and over what she sees as her part in why her marriage went so bad.

As for the class issue, there's a certain nuance to how she views it. Because of her background as the daughter of a self-made man, she doesn't see those with less wealth and power as her natural inferiors in the same way she might if her father had been, say, a duke. OTOH, she does assume early on that Jack is somehow a "safe" confidante and even object of flirtation in a way she never would've if he'd been an officer and born to the gentry.

That adds some interesting layers to it, definitely. It's going to have to be very delicately crafted, indeed. Is this one in first person POV?

Nope, third person, alternating between the protagonists' heads as it seems to suit the story.