“Do you know him?” Marianne asked.
“I do. He and Rhys are particular friends. He has ventured out every now and again to call on us for dinner. His son is adorable. But I never thought I would see the day when he would actually rejoin society, which is why I have not mentioned him—even though Evelyn appears to think that I had a duty to do so. Now that he has, I am certain you will both be better acquainted with him in due course.”
Marianne looked once more in the direction of the young man, who had been drawn into conversation with Lady Penelope Heathcliff, mother to three unmarried daughters. Of course, she would waste no time in throwing out her lures at such an excellent catch.
For the briefest moment, their eyes met across the room, and a prickle rushed down her back, making her stand straighter.
He was indeed handsome. Before she could make any more of the matter, however, Lady Heathcliff had the man’s attention once more, and Marianne looked away.
The evening continued in the usual humdrum way society events always went. A number of young women she remembered from her time at finishing school came up to her, welcoming her back. She engaged in food and drink and further conversation with her sisters, but counted the hours until she could return home.
The clock had struck almost eleven o’clock when her brother-in-law, Rhys, appeared at her and Charlotte’s side. He slung an arm around his wife and kissed her in a way that was definitely not proper, but Charlotte only giggled, used to such antics from her husband.
“My dearest Marianne,” he said and gave her a hug—drawing more than a few scandalized looks, for it was quite particularbehavior. “You have finally returned to us. I thought I was going to have to send a search party out to pry you from the nuns’ hands.”
“I assure you, quite the opposite. You might have to send a party of strong men to pry me from the arms of our dear Aunt Eugenia so that I might return to the convent.”
“I see you were not persuaded that London is preferable to the solitude of St Catherine’s?”
“Not at all,” Charlotte said. “She almost took her vows.”
“Vows?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I have never seen you so much as open a Bible.”
“It was not for the religion,” she said, growing tired of having to explain—when Rhys’s eyes suddenly flicked to the right, and he grinned.
“Well, it is capital timing indeed that you have returned, just in time to meet my friend who has just rejoined society, much like you. Marianne, meet my friend Lucien Montgomery—the Earl of Wexford.” Footsteps sounded as the man approached, making Marianne’s breath catch in her chest.
“My lord,” she said, glad her aunt had made her practice curtseying, since she had not had to do it at all at the monastery.
“This is my youngest sister-in-law,” Rhys introduced. “Lady Marianne Langley.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Wexford,” she said.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” he replied with a smile. Marianne forced one back. However, the commotion in the ballroom was starting to overwhelm her. She had been to a few dinners withher aunt since returning from the convent, but she had never been in this much company, and the combination of people talking and laughing, coupled with the sound of the band, was becoming too much.
“If you will excuse me, I think I shall rest for a while,” she said. Charlotte opened her mouth to object, but before she could say anything, Marianne had rushed away.
She found a retiring room and sat down on one of the chaises, closing her eyes and draping her forearm over them to block out what remained of the light. Why did she have to be here? Why was this necessary? Why could her aunt not leave her alone? Was it not enough to have two Duchesses in the family? Would it really be so bad to have one spinster sister who preferred to stay in the seclusion of her convent? After all, given all the shame her father had brought upon the family, her decision not to marry would do little further harm to the family name.
“You really are not one for the ballroom, are you?” A warm, deep voice broke into her thoughts. Her eyes flickered open, and she saw the Earl of Wexford standing before her, a smirk on his lips. She rose at once, her head spinning from the speed with which she had stood. She took an awkward step to the right, and he rushed over to steady her. His hand felt strong against her arm, and she looked down at his fingers as they gently propped her up.
“No,” she said. “I have never quite enjoyed them. But this is my first ball in some while. I spent the last six months at Saint Catherine’s.”
“The convent?”
“You are familiar with it?” she asked.
“Not intimately, no, but I have heard of it. They hold fundraisers every now and again.”
“That is how I found out about it. My sisters donated, and I visited it once, and well... I wanted to live there.”
“You wished to be a nun?” he asked, eyebrows drawn together and his head tilted to the side.
“No. I do not. I enjoyed it for the solitude and the peace as much as for the religion. But all in equal parts.”
“If I were not a gentleman, perhaps I could find some solitude there also,” he said, continuing on.
“I dare say it is much easier for a gentleman to find his peace and quiet than it is for a lady.”
