of paper. Such a
scrap shouldn’t matter so much. But it did. The suggestions were horrifying. Against the backdrop of Alasdair’s engagement to another, the insinuation that he
was after Marianne’s money and possibly willing to
jilt another for it was positively lurid. Roberta was
studying her intently, waiting for a reaction. Marianne
carefully schooled her features, forcing them into
blandness in order to not give herself away.
“I felt you should know,” Roberta said with a sincerity Marianne didn’t quite believe. Instinctively,
something about Roberta bothered Marianne, compelling her to believe this “bosom-bow” act was just
that. Marianne was convinced that Roberta hadn’t told
her this news out of a genuine desire to protect a
friend; they didn’t know each other well enough for
such confidences. There was another reason, a hidden
reason, for these disclosures; and yet, whatever her reason for sharing these things, it didn’t make the items
untrue. The article in the paper wasn’t a fabrication. It
had been printed and read by countless people.
Marianne felt panic rising, memories of New York
springing forth. She wouldn’t let it happen again. She
desperately wanted to get away from Roberta, but
Roberta was prosing on now about the merits of her
cousin, Kentworth. Marianne relaxed only slightly.
Roberta’s ploy to advocate for her cousin was hardly
subtle.
“Quick, put that away. He’s coming over here,”
Roberta whispered in a rush as she suddenly broke
from her conversation topic and gestured to the scrap
of paper Marianne still held in her hand.
Marianne looked up to see Alasdair striding toward
them, combed and confident, turned out resplendently
in dark evening attire. In spite of Roberta’s news,
Marianne felt only relief at the sight of Alasdair even
though he couldn’t possibly know that he was coming
to her rescue.
Alasdair greeted them and Roberta slipped into the
crowd of people merging toward their seats. “Is she a
new friend?” Alasdair asked, taking her by the elbow
and steering her into the throng.
“I’m not sure. She and her mother have called a few
times at our at homes but I’m not sure she’s a friend in
the truest sense. I would hardly call her more than an
acquaintance.” Marianne flicked her gaze up to Alasdair’s face. It was hard to believe all of Roberta’s information when he looked so at ease, so friendly.
Standing so close to him now, she could smell the clean
scent of his cologne. She’d thought he liked her. She
couldn’t be so completely wrong in her original assumptions. She was usually a good judge of character,
but she’d been wrong about the girls in New York. Perhaps she was wrong about Alasdair too.
“What is it, Marianne?” Alasdair asked quietly.
“You seem troubled”
She wanted to blurt everything out. He seemed so
kind, so honest. She wanted to ask him about Sarah
Stewart but that would only be shrewish and she had
no claims on him to ask something so personal. Instead, she said, “Roberta showed me the article in the
World.”
Alasdair squeezed her elbow in reassurance. “I saw
it too. I am sorry for it. It’s entirely my fault. I wasn’t
as careful as I should have been” He gave her a flirting smile that melted her heart even as his words
melted her hopes that Roberta had been wrong. She
knew what he meant now that Roberta had explained it
all. He should have been more careful because he was
promised to another.
“Where are we going?” Marianne queried, suddenly aware they’d passed rows and rows of chairs and
were making their way toward the front of the ballroom.
“I’ve got seats for us close to the stage. Camberly
insisted we all sit up front and support his wife. I’ve already shown your parents. They should be waiting
for us. Camberly is thrilled to hear about your father’s
new yacht. The two of them will talk of nothing else
all night, I guarantee”
scrap shouldn’t matter so much. But it did. The suggestions were horrifying. Against the backdrop of Alasdair’s engagement to another, the insinuation that he
was after Marianne’s money and possibly willing to
jilt another for it was positively lurid. Roberta was
studying her intently, waiting for a reaction. Marianne
carefully schooled her features, forcing them into
blandness in order to not give herself away.
“I felt you should know,” Roberta said with a sincerity Marianne didn’t quite believe. Instinctively,
something about Roberta bothered Marianne, compelling her to believe this “bosom-bow” act was just
that. Marianne was convinced that Roberta hadn’t told
her this news out of a genuine desire to protect a
friend; they didn’t know each other well enough for
such confidences. There was another reason, a hidden
reason, for these disclosures; and yet, whatever her reason for sharing these things, it didn’t make the items
untrue. The article in the paper wasn’t a fabrication. It
had been printed and read by countless people.
Marianne felt panic rising, memories of New York
springing forth. She wouldn’t let it happen again. She
desperately wanted to get away from Roberta, but
Roberta was prosing on now about the merits of her
cousin, Kentworth. Marianne relaxed only slightly.
Roberta’s ploy to advocate for her cousin was hardly
subtle.
“Quick, put that away. He’s coming over here,”
Roberta whispered in a rush as she suddenly broke
from her conversation topic and gestured to the scrap
of paper Marianne still held in her hand.
Marianne looked up to see Alasdair striding toward
them, combed and confident, turned out resplendently
in dark evening attire. In spite of Roberta’s news,
Marianne felt only relief at the sight of Alasdair even
though he couldn’t possibly know that he was coming
to her rescue.
Alasdair greeted them and Roberta slipped into the
crowd of people merging toward their seats. “Is she a
new friend?” Alasdair asked, taking her by the elbow
and steering her into the throng.
“I’m not sure. She and her mother have called a few
times at our at homes but I’m not sure she’s a friend in
the truest sense. I would hardly call her more than an
acquaintance.” Marianne flicked her gaze up to Alasdair’s face. It was hard to believe all of Roberta’s information when he looked so at ease, so friendly.
Standing so close to him now, she could smell the clean
scent of his cologne. She’d thought he liked her. She
couldn’t be so completely wrong in her original assumptions. She was usually a good judge of character,
but she’d been wrong about the girls in New York. Perhaps she was wrong about Alasdair too.
“What is it, Marianne?” Alasdair asked quietly.
“You seem troubled”
She wanted to blurt everything out. He seemed so
kind, so honest. She wanted to ask him about Sarah
Stewart but that would only be shrewish and she had
no claims on him to ask something so personal. Instead, she said, “Roberta showed me the article in the
World.”
Alasdair squeezed her elbow in reassurance. “I saw
it too. I am sorry for it. It’s entirely my fault. I wasn’t
as careful as I should have been” He gave her a flirting smile that melted her heart even as his words
melted her hopes that Roberta had been wrong. She
knew what he meant now that Roberta had explained it
all. He should have been more careful because he was
promised to another.
“Where are we going?” Marianne queried, suddenly aware they’d passed rows and rows of chairs and
were making their way toward the front of the ballroom.
“I’ve got seats for us close to the stage. Camberly
insisted we all sit up front and support his wife. I’ve already shown your parents. They should be waiting
for us. Camberly is thrilled to hear about your father’s
new yacht. The two of them will talk of nothing else
all night, I guarantee”
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