“I am certain I could never do such a thing,” Miss Hutton tittered, hiding her smile behind her fan as she glanced up at George from under her lashes.
“You do yourself a disservice,” said George, whose words were quickly followed by assurances from Mr. Gadd.
“And I assure you I do not,” replied Miss Hutton, snapping her fan shut with another bat of her eyelashes. “Perhaps there are other ladies who could manage such a thing, but I grow positively faint at the thought.”
Marian pinched her lips together, hoping they might keep her from saying something rash, but it was difficult to hold firm to that resolution. That pleasant warmth she’d felt just moments ago was now a dying flicker, and Marian tried to keep that disappointment at bay as the pressure in her chest grew. The evening had been quite resplendent before this moment, and she wasn’t about to allow Miss Hutton to taint the whole of it—even if it was her family’s ball.
In the three years since the advent of Marian and George’s friendship, many ladies had vied for his attention and left disappointed, and Miss Hutton would follow their example. When all was said and done, Marian was the one left at his side after his initial interest in a lady faded. It was friendship that made for a lasting relationship, after all. A successful marriage was built on a strong foundation of warm regards. Marian knew and trusted that, but her heart struggled to hold onto that faith while Miss Hutton smiled and simpered, never going so far as to cross the boundaries of propriety but demonstrating her clear preference to everyone about.
And yes, George responded in kind to each of Miss Hutton’s coy words. Marian’s heart pricked with every syllable, but the fellow was free with his compliments. That was all.
And he may bestow that broad, all-consuming grin of his at Miss Hutton, but there was a faint something about the eyes that lacked the warmth he showed Marian nor could it match the brightness of spirit he radiated when he spoke with Marian.
And Miss Hutton’s conversation did not touch on anything of value, which spoke volumes about their relationship.
The young lady was a flirt, and George couldn’t help himself. That was all. There was no need to be alarmed.
Turning her gaze away from the group, Marian forced herself to think of other things. A bit of patience was all that was needed. George cared for her deeply—of that Marian was certain—and time was all that was required for him to understand just how important and unique their friendship was. She and George had been inseparable for three years, and their bond was stronger than these little flirtations.
But calmness was in short supply when Marian’s gaze landed on George’s sister. Miss Evelyn stood to one side of the ballroom, her hands clasped before her as she watched the dancing with an expression Marian knew all too well. Miss Evelyn’s gaze darted around the area, searching for anyone to keep her company, yet not resting long on any individual, should that make the other feel obligated to join her or allow them to snub her entirely.
The young lady’s countenance might be thought light and bright if not for the tight edge to it. Marian had used such an expression before herself; ’twas better to be thought happily alone than desperate for companionship. Always hopeful someone would come to talk or ask her to dance. Not wanting anyone to know just how much her heart ached as each empty minute passed by.
Marian glanced at her companions and was struck by how much her circumstances had changed in the last three years. She still did not understand why George had extended a hand of friendship to her, but Marian had snatched it without hesitation. And now his poor sister was in a similar situation. Just stepping out into society with such a brightness of hope, only to be met by darkness.
Why were some ladies so highly sought after, even when they had not the personality, wit, or intelligence to recommend them? While some may think it due to beauty, many of those sought-after ladies were pleasant-looking but not remarkable. Yet gentlemen stumbled over themselves to gain their attention while too many other ladies like Miss Evelyn went unnoticed.
True, the young lady had her mother’s unruly, bright hair, which people called copper when they wished to be kind, though it was far closer to orange than red. And her face was generously dusted with freckles, which too many thought was akin to the plague. However, Miss Evelyn Finch had a kind and dear soul that greatly outweighed any outward imperfections others might fixate upon. Heaven knew the young lady was a far better person than she, yet it was not Marian who stood alone at that moment.
Wind buffeted Marian’s heart, bringing with it a familiar pressure of growing frustration as she considered Miss Evelyn’s situation and all the other silent creatures who clung to the edges of the ballroom, desperate for some morsel of attention. The manner in which society ignored them was not proportional to their shortcomings, and far lesser beings were welcomed with open arms. It wasn’t fair in the slightest.
Marian’s breath came quicker as her muscles tightened. Yes, it was a universal truth that the world wasn’t fair, but there were too many injustices that could be righted if people were simply willing to do their part in helping. She had spent far too many of her three and twenty years among the ranks of the overlooked; she wouldn’t allow Miss Evelyn to languish there.
But before she could take it upon herself to approach the young lady and insist she join them, George touched her arm, drawing her attention to him.
“What is the matter? You look ready to call someone out,” he said in a low voice, though a touch of humor colored his tone.
“It is unfair that some ladies are overlooked.”
George blinked at that, his brows pulling together as he considered her and then cast his gaze in the direction Marian had been looking. “You mean Evelyn?”
“I do not understand why some are ignored and relegated to the side, though they so desperately wish to join in. I know it makes me sound petulant, but it isn’t fair.” With each word, the winds grew fiercer in Marian’s heart, buffeting it about as though a great bellows heaved in her chest. And the more she spoke, the stronger the torrent grew. Her tone grew more heated, the words coming quick and clipped.
George’s lips tipped into a slanted smile. “Breathe, Miss Marian. Do not allow yourself to become overwrought.”
That familiar refrain forced her to stop, and with a sparkle of laughter in his eyes, George held her gaze as she reined in her emotions; they were still there, simmering beneath the surface, but once more, she was in control and not they.
“Thank you, Mr. Finch,” she said with a squeeze of his forearm. Marian didn’t understand why such things stoked her temper so greatly, but he had a way of calming the storm.
“You are right that we cannot change the way things are,” he said. “Though I wish for my sister’s sake the world was different.”
“That what was different?” asked Miss Hutton, and just when Marian thought she had her heart under control, the pressure in her chest returned in force, but George’s attentions were too fixed on Miss Hutton to give that calm assurance she needed to dampen the torrent.
“We were speaking about how we wished society wouldn’t overlook some ladies and relegate them to the sides of the ballroom,” said George.
Miss Hutton met that with a smile and a shake of her head. “If people wish to join in, they need only step away from the edges. It is they who relegate themselves to the outskirts.”
Marian stared at her, and George’s brows rose, but before she could say a word in defense, the fellow replied.
