Yes, Marjorie’s marriage… but to who?
Chapter 6
Alexander stood in the outer circle of the ballroom, his eyes focused on the couples in the heat of dancing. To a casual observer, at least, that was what he had been doing, while in fact, his gaze was focused solely on a single couple, which swayed to the rhythm of the quadrille.
He did not know Marjorie could look so beautiful in a gown. He had no idea that her light was all the while there, glowing on the inside. All it needed was a piece of fabric and some shiny glass to bring it to the surface. Now, he could see that Marjorie was also a wonderful dancer. Her body reacted splendidly to the lead of Lord Kingsley, who immediately upon their arrival, approached Alexander to greet him, and most certainly to be introduced to the dashing lady next to him. Alexander could not believe that he would not be the one to have the first dance with her. From the looks of it, he would not be the one to have the second dance, either.
“How come you aren’t dancing, Haddington?”
Alexander turned around, only to meet the steel blue eyes of his long-time friend Percival Allen, the younger son of the Baron of Fillside. Percival’s blond hair was already starting to thin in his late twenties, but that did not seem to prevent him from being quite popular with the ladies. As the baron’s second son, he had little to no chance of inheriting the title, so marriage, or marriage to a wealthy lady with a title of her own, was not a priority to him. And he acted accordingly.
“You know I am not a fan of the quadrille,” Alexander commented, his mind urging him to turn around and face the dancers again, but he resisted the temptation.
“We do not dance the quadrille for our own amusement, old chap,” Percival chuckled. “It is for the amusement of the ladies, who seem particularly lovely this evening.”
“I suppose so,” Alexander said, but the tone of disinterestedness was tangible in his voice.
“Speaking of lovely ladies…” Percival suddenly glanced somewhere behind Alexander’s shoulder. “Is that dashing beauty with you Marjorie Leeson, your late father’s ward?”
“Yes,” Alexander echoed, turning around himself now, so that both men were staring at the woman in question, who obviously had no idea that she was the object of their conversation. She was smiling while dancing with Lord Kingsley. She seemed happy and entertained. Alexander felt a slight grind in his teeth. He immediately relaxed his jaw.
“She has grown quite a bit, hasn’t she, old chap?” Percival leaned closer to him and whistled impressively. “When was the last time I saw her, ten years ago?”
Alexander turned to him possessively. “You only saw her three times in your life. I doubt she remembers you.”
Immediately, Alexander regretted his harsh tone. He had no idea where it had come from. Fortunately, his friend either did not notice it or decided not to pay heed to it, for which Alexander was grateful.
“Which is why we should reacquaint you two this evening,” Alexander nodded, with an idea suddenly forming in his mind.
“I think I would quite like that,” Percival nodded, not taking his eyes off Marjorie, just like Alexander.
Being in the position of a second son, Percival could marry anyone he wished. There were no conditions drawn in that choice. This meant that Percival could easily marry Marjorie. And with that simple solution, Alexander’s problem was resolved. He listened to the final sounds of the quadrilled, when Marjorie curtsied before Lord Kingsley, who then led her back to Alexander.
“I return the lovely lady in pristine condition,” Lord Kingsley acknowledged, bowing before Marjorie, and pressing a kiss on her gloved hand, which according to Alexander lasted a little too long. Then, he added. “In hopes that she will consider granting my wish for another dance at a later point in the evening.”
But before Marjorie could say anything, Percival interfered. “You just had the pleasure, old boy. Allow someone else to bask in the sun that is this young lady before you occupy her again.”
“Whatever the lady wishes,” Kingsley bowed again, then respectfully disappeared among the guests.
Alexander secretly enjoyed the way Marjorie looked now, slightly flushed from the exertion, her lips parted, in a half-smile.
“You seem taken with Lord Kingsley,” Alexander did not fail to notice the way she followed him until he was lost in the crowd.
“Taken?” she repeated, frowning a little. “Hardly. He is an amusing fellow, although his jokes tend to cross the line propriety.”
“If you do me the honor of this next dance, I promise not to tell you any jokes that might be taken the wrong way,” Percival interrupted their conversation.
She looked at him, unable to bring together a face and a name from her memory. Her confusion was clearly genuine, so Alexander jumped to her aid.
“You remember Percival? Son of the Baron of Fillside,” Alexander clarified. “He visited Vaughan Estate several times when we were younger.”
“Oh, of course, how silly of me not to remember,” she smiled apologetically, curtsying politely. “It is lovely to see you again.”
Alexander admired her natural poise, which was so difficult to achieve for some women who had been born with the silver spoon handed to them. Up until that fateful moment when the late earl stumbled onto her in the streets, cold and starving, Marjorie never had anything handed to her. She came to them rough around the edges and emerged from their home a true diamond.
“I would be happy to join you for the next dance, if only you will permit me a moment for some refreshment. I feel parched,” she said respectfully.
“Would you like me to bring you anything?” Alexander offered.
