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“Of course,” she said, forcing a smile with a glance in Mr. Steele’s direction.
He was looking around the crowds himself. Was he attempting to find his next prospective partner?
The angry heat of jealousy replaced the regret she felt for accepting another man’s pursual of her, but she quickly checked her emotions. She and Mr. Steele were not attached in any regard other than friendship—despite feigning marriage for the evening. She had no right to feel such a way.
A moment later, Mr. Wilson returned with a tall, handsome man named Mr. Robins.
Black jacket, sleek collar, crisp cravat. A gentleman. Father would be impressed. So why was Marianne not?
“Enjoy yourself, my dear,” Mr. Steele said as Mr. Robins led Marianne to the dance floor.
She glanced back at her fictitious husband, knowing the endearment had simply been for show. But then, why did his eyes say otherwise?
Her dance with Mr. Robins was pleasant, if not a little long. Her eyes continually strayed around her, taking note of the fact that Mr. Steele did not dance with another.
But such a thought should have never made her so happy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When the dance finally ended, Marianne expressed her gratitude to Mr. Robins, who left straight away to find another partner, then she turned to find Mr. Steele. After a moment, she spotted him standing by the refreshment table, raising his head above the crowd for her to see him.
Their eyes met, and his smile brightened.
She walked straight toward him, noticing only then that he spoke to another couple, a middle-aged man and woman with bright smiles of their own.
Her footing faltered. How could she keep up the façade that she and Mr. Steele were married?
“Mrs. Hickenbottom,” he greeted when she arrived at his side. He reached out toward her, his hand resting softly against the small of her back. “Allow me to introduce to you two new friends I’ve made. Mr. and Mrs. Parson, this is my lovely wife.”
The Parsons greeted her with a bow and a curtsy, which Marianne nearly forgot to return as she struggled to focus on anything beyond Mr. Steele’s hand at her back.
“Oh, Mrs. Hickenbottom,” Mrs. Parson said, “you are as lovely as your husband described you.”
Marianne glanced at Mr. Steele, who removed his hand and cleared his throat. Lovely? Mr. Steele thought she was lovely? He’d called her that word before, hadn’t he?
She smiled, her energy returning after the dance with Mr. Robins had almost sapped her dry. “How lovely it is to make your acquaintance.”
Mrs. Parson’s turban wrapped up nearly all of her dark brown hair. “Your husband was just telling us that you are visiting from Bath.”
Marianne nodded, unable to say anything for fear of contradicting whatever Mr. Steele had said before she’d arrived.
“What brings you to Wells?” Mr. Parson asked, his smile friendly.
Marianne blinked, looking to Mr. Steele. They hadn’t prepared for this—small conversations with others where they would be required to share falsehoods.
Mr. Steele merely smiled comfortably. “We enjoy public assemblies, so when we heard of the one here, we couldn’t pass on the opportunity to attend it. Isn’t that right, my dear?”
She smiled. He certainly hadn’t told a full lie.
“To travel so far, though, for a public assembly?” Mrs. Parson tapped on her chin and narrowed her eyes. “You two have only recently been married, I assume?”
Marianne’s cheeks burned.
“Very newly married, yes,” Mr. Steele replied.
“I knew it.” Mrs. Parson turned to her husband. “Did I not say such a thing, Mr. Parson? Yes, I knew the both of you were. For only young, newly marrieds would ever think of traveling such a distance for a simple dance.” She gave a laugh. “Do tell me how long you’ve been wedded.”
A day? Less than twelve hours?
