“There is no need to defend yourself or your actions, Miss Marian. I doubt he or anyone else among our friends suspects it, but I know the signs. I know what it feels like to love another and long for him to see you in that light.” Lettie’s dark brows drew together, her eyes misting as she cleared her throat. “I do not wish for you to languish in such a situation, so please heed my advice.”
“That is easier said than done,” murmured Marian.
That drew a smile from Lettie. “There is nothing easier. Show him he is more than a friend to you. Flirt with him. Give him a look that tells him you are thinking of stealing a kiss. At present, you treat him like a chum, and he may not see you as anything else if you do not give some sign that he is something more.”
“I’ve found that flirting makes gentlemen turn tail and run.” Marian didn’t bother softening the bite to her tone. Perhaps it was a tad too bitter (and no doubt George would chastise her for such a bald statement), but it was the truth. Marian’s experience had eradicated her faith in her womanly allures. To her knowledge, George was the only gentleman in existence who complimented her. Even Papa and her brother rarely bestowed any honeyed words, and they were sparse when they did.
“Other gentlemen have made you wary, but you needn’t fear. It is clear that you and Mr. Finch care deeply for each other,” Lettie said. “He may view you as a friend at present, but it may be because you haven’t given him reason to consider you in a different manner.”
Such enticing words. They fell upon Marian’s ears and wriggled deep into her brain, churning up her already overwrought thoughts with such fervor that it was a miracle her head didn’t spin right off her shoulders. And she wasn’t helped by the thunderous battle waging in her heart between that which she wanted and that which she feared.
Lettie was wise enough to leave Marian to her thoughts, allowing silence to fall as they meandered about the ballroom, which was both helpful and disastrous. It was a wonder her body could contain so many emotions, for they filled her so thoroughly that she was certain to rip at the seams. Marian couldn’t help but wish George were at her side, despite the fact that he was the cause of her distress. He was so level-headed and calm, sorting through the chaos to help Marian find her footing once more.
“Two of my favorite ladies standing together. What a fine sight you make,” said George.
How could a few words both soothe and upend? Hearing his laughing tone anchored her once more, yet it brought with it so many questions and concerns. Ought she to follow Lettie’s advice? It had proven effective for her and Mr. Birks.
“I would feel flattered at such a statement, Mr. Finch, but I know you are not discerning about whom you count among your favorites,” replied Lettie in a wry tone.
George’s light brows rose. “You think me devoid of taste?”
Lettie answered that with a saucy raise of her own brows. “You do count Mr. Birks as one of your favorite people.”
“And I am not the only one, Miss Donaldson.” There was far too much insinuation in his tone for anyone to miss his meaning, and Lettie laughed.
“I concede the point, sir,” she said, rising onto her toes to glance over the crowd. “And have you seen the errant man?”
“YourMr. Birks?” he asked.
Marian covered a laugh at the impish gleam in George’s eyes that emphasized the all-important pronoun, and Lettie scowled at the both of them, though there was no point in doing so. Even those outside the gossip circles knew she and Mr. Birks were near enough to marriage that if the fellow was nothersin actual fact, he was in every way that mattered.
“After he left my sister’s side, he made his way to the refreshments,” said George, nodding towards the opposite side of the ballroom. “No doubt he has procured you something to drink.”
With a quick word of farewell, Lettie went off in search of her Mr. Birks, though not before giving Marian a pointed look. Cheeks ablaze, Marian glanced at George, but his attention was fixed on the dancers readying themselves for the next set.
“She looks quite happy,” murmured George, and Marian turned her gaze in the direction his had taken to find Miss Evelyn standing on the dance floor with yet another young man as the pair awaited the musicians to strike the opening measures. A smile stretched across her face, and she beamed at the fellow. “Mr. Orton was otherwise occupied, but Mr. Bennington was pleased to take his place.”
“You chose well,” said Marian with a nod. “Mr. Orton is a fine gentleman in many ways, but he isn’t always circumspect in his words. Mr. Bennington is a good fellow who won’t make her feel like a duty or let it slip that you prodded him towards it. Though it is ridiculous she requires any assistance in securing a dance partner. She is such a sweet girl.”
But Marian knew well enough that what she prized in company did not align with what men sought, and like too many, Miss Evelyn was not an obvious choice, which made men oblivious to her. Frankly, Marian thought it was shortsighted of them, for there were plenty among the wallflowers who would make finer wives than the highly sought-after hothouse blossoms.
“You deserve my deepest thanks, Miss Marian,” he said, turning to face her. George’s expression was devoid of the usual laughter, his eyes quite serious as he held her gaze with a warmth that swept through the nerves and confusion like a summer breeze and settled in her heart.
“And why is that?”
“Because you are my conscience.” George paused, the edge of his lip pulling up into the barest hint of a smile. “My dear sister was standing not far from me, yet I didn’t see her pain nor understand that I could do something to alleviate it. You did and pushed me to act. Now she is happy, and I am even happier for my part in it.”
What did one say in response to such an admission? Of course, Marian would prefer a declaration of undying love or a proposal of marriage, but knowing she had such a profound effect on him brought with it a similar joy that coursed through her veins with every beat of her heart.
“We make a good pair, you and I.” Marian was quite elated that her words came out even and calm, as though they were discussing any of their usual subjects. But Lettie’s advice rang through her thoughts. Was she being too aloof? Projecting too much disinterest? Perhaps her fears had kept George at arm’s length.
“That is true.” George gave a definitive nod. “I, for one, am quite grateful for you, my dear friend.”
Marian’s cheeks flushed red, and she didn’t try to hide it or turn away. Let him see just how much those words meant to her.
“Do you require some air?” he asked, his brows pulling low. “A ballroom can grow quite overheated, and I do not wish you to grow faint.”
Marian held back a chuckle. She had never fainted in the whole of her life, and if she were ever to do so, it would be because George was staring at her with such intensity and not from the crush of bodies around them.
