Allowing the conversation to shift along, Marian waited for a moment to insert a quick comment. Miss Bacon’s smile tightened, but she nodded, and soon the subject swept Marian along, drawing her deeper into the discussion. She laughed and jested with the group, silently cursing her wayward tongue at times, but otherwise feeling quite lighter for having made the attempt.
“Do excuse me,” said Mr. Johanson with a bow. “I fear I am needed elsewhere.”
They nodded, and Marian threw herself into the fray once more. Then Mr. Durrant left to claim a dance. Miss Fernsby begged off, saying she required a bit of refreshment. One by one, the others drew away with similar excuses, and Marian found herself alone once more. But it was a different sort of solitude. Yes, she drifted to the edges once again, but she had managed a successful interaction. One that she had instigated. It may have been a bit underhanded to sneak into it as she had, but attempting any sort of socializing was a coup.
Marian batted her fan, smiling at the dancers while wondering if Mr. Johanson or Mr. Durrant might ask her to stand up with them later. Now that they had shared in a conversation, perhaps the gentlemen might take notice of her later. Nearly laughing at the notion, Marian smiled to herself and studied the room as she hunted for another prime attempt at instigating conversation.
The breath left her lungs in a rush, her fan stilling until Marian stood there like a statue, staring at the circle of friends. For all their excuses, Mr. Durrant, Miss Bacon, Mr. Johanson, and the rest were gathered again near the musicians. Their numbers had changed some, but the group remained mostly intact and on the opposite side of the room from where they had stood just moments before.
Everything inside Marian constricted and her insides turned to lead, weighing her down until she was certain she could not stand. She blinked quickly to dispel their prickling and drew up her fan, hoping the breeze might keep her from doing something dreadfully embarrassing. Or more embarrassing, rather. She had already managed to do enough to shame herself tonight.
In quick succession, Marian’s thoughts sifted through her memories, pulling up every word she’d spoken, scouring for the reason they had dismissed her so readily. But no matter how she examined her actions, she couldn’t understand what it was that had offended them so greatly. The world around her swirled, the noise of the chatter and music swelling into a screeching cacophony. The air grew heavy, pressing down on her, and Marian batted her fan faster as her eyes burned, her throat closing tight.
She couldn’t do this. Not here.
Turning about, Marian bolted for the back door.
Chapter 13
Holding fast to his smile, George refused to give voice to the litany of curses echoing through his thoughts. The hour was not so very late, but he felt like climbing out of the carriage and running to Bentmoor. He ought to have taken his horse. Of course, that would’ve left his evening clothes in a sad state when he arrived at the assembly, and his pride hadn’t allowed that.
And now he was suffering the consequences.
Mother and Father chatted in low tones while Miles sat beside him in silence, and George’s gaze was fixed on the window, grasping onto the flicker of lights that signaled their destination. Father said something, but George only nodded, not giving it any attention as he alighted the carriage the moment they stopped at the assembly’s doorstep.
Straightening his jacket, George strode through the crowd gathered in and around the building, his gaze searching the faces, only paying enough attention to notice whether Marian was among them—and that Evelyn was standing beside a gentleman he did not recognize. George stiffened, studying the pair, and made note to speak with the man he assumed must be Mr. Townsend. Evelyn looked quite content with her situation, but George didn’t like how close the gentleman was standing to his sister. But that was not the foremost concern of the evening.
George turned his attention back to the gathering, his eyes darting from figure to figure. The Wakefields lived in Bentmoor proper, so there was no reason they would be tardy like the Finches—even if Marian wished to avoid him, as she had over the past sennight.
Then there she was, standing in a secluded corner (or as secluded as could be managed in a gathering like this), and George was certain the clocks ceased their ticking. Marian was no timid creature. Withdrawn, perhaps, but from their earliest acquaintance, he had sensed her passion and wit. It was that very nature that had piqued his interest in her, yet there was a fragility to her. Or self-doubt, perhaps.
But now, she held herself like a queen, surveying the night’s offerings with a regal gaze. And the lady certainly looked royal. Her silk gown caught the candlelight, casting off glimmers as the fabric cascaded down to show off her figure to utter perfection. And her hair was swept up in an array of braids and flowers that brought out the rose of her cheeks. She was sunlight in a garden.
Caught up in the sight of her, George remained fixed in place despite blocking the path into the assembly room. When he came to his senses, he nodded in apology to those he’d importuned and wove his way along the edge of the ballroom, his gaze never faltering from her position.
Marian’s eyes fell to the ground, her muscles tightening as she blinked in rapid succession. A flash of pain took hold of her features, but she quickly covered it with her fluttering fan. It was then that George realized her lonely position. Everyone else around her was gathered in merry groups, and no one cast her even a passing glance.
That long-ago evening came back to his thoughts, but it wasn’t the unpleasantness that prodded him. It was hearing her defense of the wallflowers. George’s throat tightened as he considered his dismissive words on the subject; they had been born from a boy’s desire to impress the object of his affection by agreeing with her, however flawed Juliette’s logic.
George knew he ought to apologize for that (along with many other things), but before he could, Marian turned and fled the room, slipping through the back door. He hurried after her, though navigating the throng took a fair amount of maneuvering. The assembly rooms had been placed beside the coaching inn, which was situated at the edge of town, and at its rear was a short alleyway between the press of buildings. But it was empty. Casting a look in either direction, George followed his instinct and turned left, following the path that led towards an untouched patch of green.
The buildings gave way, depositing him into an empty parcel of land that had likely been intended to serve as a garden for one of the adjacent buildings, though it had been left untouched for some years. Tufts of grass covered the ground, and a few trees stretched up to the heavens, but it was the lady standing beneath them who held his attention. With one hand against the trunk, Marian propped herself up with her other hand pressed to her mouth. At the sound of his footsteps, she straightened and whirled about.
“What are you doing here?” she said with a quick brush of her cheeks before giving him her back once more. “Leave me be. I do not want your company.”
George’s heart constricted, his stomach sinking as he considered her cool dismissal. “I cannot bear to leave you alone when you are distraught.”
Marian’s arms drew tight around her middle, and though she attempted a tone of disdain, her words hitched. “I do not need your assistance, Mr. Finch.”
He flinched at the sound of his name. Not that Marian had ever used his given name before, but the firm tone she employed increased the distance between them.
“Marian—Miss Wakefield.” George winced at the slip of his tongue. “I know I do not deserve your confidences, but do not send me away. I cannot bear the thought of leaving you alone at such a moment.”
She drew her arms tighter around herself, and though George could not see her expression from this angle, he knew her well enough to know she could send him packing if she wished.
Inching closer, George approached her like a startled animal, his hands outstretched as he closed the distance between them. “What has happened?”
“It is none of your concern,” she said, though her voice was quiet and shaky.
