Page 59 of His Bluestocking Bride

Marcus’s hand slid into hers once more, offering a gentle squeeze. She forced a smile onto her face and darted a glance at him. Then his brother pulled him away and the men disappeared.

Marianne stepped closer and put her arm around Ellen’s waist. “Your gown is lovely. I didn’t have the chance to ask before, where did you acquire it?”

Minutes of meaningless conversation passed, and then Lady Annesbury was moving them across the floor again, introducing Ellen to a list of people she had no hope of remembering. Marianne stayed with them, at Ellen’s right hand.

“How do you do it?” Ellen asked when her mother-in-law was preoccupied with speaking to a friend. “Marianne, how do you enjoy being on display? Being talked of?”

Marianne kept her polite smile upon her face, lowering her head as she answered. “This is how it has always been, Ellen. I was born to this. With a duke for a grandfather, I’ve been trained since I was in leading strings.” She adjusted a glove, a small frown appearing on her face. “How are you managing?”

Ellen hid her grimace as she answered. “Terribly.”

“If you will excuse me for a moment, my dears,” Lady Annesbury said. “I see someone I need to have a word with.”

“Of course, Mother,” Ellen answered, her dutiful smile in place again.

Lady Annesbury sailed away from them, more graceful than any debutante Ellen had seen that evening.

“Let’s walk near the windows,” Marianne said, gesturing to the other side of the room. “We can get some fresh air.”

Together, they walked arm in arm. As they neared the windows, Marianne veered slightly to a potted fern of an enormous size. “Stand here, Ellen, and take a few deep breaths.” Marianne’s instructions came with a friendly smile. “No one can see you tucked behind the plant.”

Ellen chuckled and raised a hand to her brow. “If I lose my smile now, I may never get it back. This is not at all the way I thought it would be, Marianne. I’m not meant for London.”

“Nonsense. Anyone who wishes to belong can. Especially as connected as you are.” Marianne offered an encouraging pat on Ellen’s arm. “And I’m here now. I will see you through it.”

“That’s the thing,” Ellen murmured, feeling her eyes begin to prickle. “I’m not sure I want to see it through.”

Marianne opened her mouth to argue, but another voice reached them first, from just beyond the fern.

“Is that Lady Castleton?”

A second female voice answered. “Dear me, it is. I had heard she was back from Spain, but I hadn’t thought to see her.”

“Is that her husband with her?”

“No, no. The count didn’t come,” said a third voice, a man’s.

“Then who—?”

“That’s the brother of the Earl of Annesbury.”

Ellen could not hear more. She looked up to Marianne, entreating her friend with her eyes to do something.

Marianne said a very unladylike word beneath her breath, startling Ellen, but she followed Marianne away from the false safety of the plant. They walked along the wall of the ballroom. Marianne kept darting gazes toward the center of the room, but Ellen stubbornly trained her eyes on her friend’s back. She had no wish to look and see what Marcus was doing or who he was with.

“It’s her,” Marianne said, bringing them to a halt behind a column and looking over Ellen’s shoulder. “But Marcus isn’t anywhere near her. Not anymore.”

“Can I plead a headache and return home?” Ellen asked, smiling weakly and half joking.

“Not so soon after Lady Castleton’s arrival. That would cause gossip.” Marianne bit her bottom lip and moved from behind the column. “Ah. There’s Collin. He’s coming our way.”

Less than a minute later, Collin stood near them. “Little cousin, there you are.” He held his hand out to her. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for the supper dance?”

Ellen’s eyes widened. “Is it as late as that?”

“Indeed.” Collin’s smile widened and he sighed. “Aren’t you dreadfully tired? I always am by supper.”

“Then he gets his energies restored to him.” Marianne laughed, a light and polite sound Ellen didn’t think she could possibly replicate.