But Marian struggled to hold onto her smile as the memory of their previous meeting played through her thoughts. Growling at herself, she forced herself to focus on better things. She had allowed hurt feelings to taint too much of her life, and it was not good for her to hold onto his reprimand. Mr. Clements wasn’t a cruel man, and though he’d made his opinion clear concerning her conduct during the concert planning meeting, he hadn’t belittled her or badgered her about it during their walk home. It was hardly worthy of being called a reprimand.
To Marian’s way of thinking, a husband and wife ought to be better together than apart, so she couldn’t nurse her wounded pride simply because Mr. Clements had called attention to her shortcomings. Yes, he might’ve done it in a more politic manner, but it had been a good reminder not to allow her temper to get the better of her. A nudge to aid her in making a better choice.
Marian widened her grin and laughed, drawing a smile from Mr. Clements as the music wound to a close. Offering his arm up to her, the fellow led her off the dance floor, his gaze drifting to where Miss Little stood. The young lady had only just taken her first steps into society, and there was no mistaking the covetous manner in which she gazed at the dancing pairs.
“Gird your loins, Mr. Clements,” said Marian, nodding at the young lady as the other gentlemen in attendance walked by without remarking her.
“Pardon?” he asked, raising his brows at her wording.
Marian blinked, hoping she was mistaken and that the vicar had misheard and not recognized the Biblical turn of phrase. “Gather your courage, and ask her to dance.”
“I do believe I mentioned that I lack courage,” he said, giving her a sideways glance.
“Yes, but you also mentioned how much you wished to brighten those young ladies’ evenings by asking them to dance. I assure you, wallflowers are grateful for any gentleman who wishes to stand up with them. You needn’t be embarrassed about following a kind impulse.”
Mr. Clements swallowed, his complexion paling as his gaze darted between Marian and Miss Little.
Giving him a gentle nudge to match the metaphorical one, Marian nodded towards Miss Little. “She clearly wishes to dance. Your invitation will make her happy.”
“I wouldn’t wish to abandon you. I am your escort, after all.”
“It would make me very happy to see you brighten Miss Little’s day. I can entertain myself in the meantime, and you will be back at my side in a trice.”
With a steeling breath and a nod, Mr. Clements wove through the crowd and stopped before Miss Little. His movements were jerking and awkward, and the young lady watched him with wide eyes, but Marian knew she wouldn’t reject Mr. Clements’ offer. Indeed, Miss Little’s smile blossomed, and her nod was so very emphatic that no one could doubt how warmly the invitation was received.
Marian grinned as the pair took their place on the dance floor, and she was rather pleased with the whole situation. Mr. Clements had needed a fair amount of prodding, but in the end, he’d done as bidden. She considered that and realized how manipulative that might sound to another, but the glow that flickered in her heart wasn’t because he’d done as instructed, but because Marian had helped him to do something good—something he’d wanted to do. She had helped him to be better.
That brought her thoughts around to the same issue that had haunted her since that frightful meeting two days ago, and a weight settled in her chest, weighing down all her lightness of spirit until she felt rooted to the ground. That meeting had been a disaster on many fronts, and Marian was still not certain what to do. Not that there was much she could do.
“That was quite the heavy sigh,” said Mr. Finch, and Marian turned to find him standing at her side.
Chapter 21
“It is nothing,” said Marian with a smile, but the fellow frowned at that.
“You ought not to tell fibs.” Mr. Finch studied her with a furrowed brow. “What is the matter?”
Forcing a bright smile, she waved his words aside. “I assure you I am well.”
Stepping closer, Mr. Finch lowered his voice, though she doubted anyone would overhear him amidst the cacophony. “You can tell me, Miss Marian.”
Sucking in through her nostrils, Marian clamped her teeth together, her eyelashes fluttering as she studied him. The crowd jostled her, and Mr. Finch held up a hand and nodded towards the dance floor. But then she noticed the crumpled fritters in his hand.
Mr. Finch grimaced with a self-deprecating smile. “I fear they did not survive the journey from the vendor.”
“I love apple fritters.”
“I know.”
Two small words, yet they filled her with far more contentment and pleasure than that small statement ought to inspire. Mr. Finch had remembered. Of course, he had.
Marian let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging, and he handed the mangled treats to a passing child, who gave no thought to the state of the food, simply accepting it with a grin. With a quick brush of his hands, Mr. Finch led her onto the dance floor. She hadn’t noticed the song before, but the slow strains of the waltz wrapped around her as Mr. Finch placed a hand at her waist.
Forcing herself not to look at it, Marian realized that although they had shared many a dance, they hadn’t waltzed together before. Mr. Finch led her into the throng, and they turned in time with the other dancers, though Marian could hardly think while his hand lingered there. Her eyes slid closed for a moment, and she reminded herself not to be so foolish.
With everything that had happened of late, her heart was in a raw state. That was all.
“Now, tell me what has you so distraught, Miss Marian.”
