Page 45

TWO MONTHS LATER

“ A re you certain that everything is fine?” Catherine asked Margaret as she hurried behind her.

“Yes, yes, all is well.”

“Because it does not seem well.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Margaret shot back over her shoulder, barely paying her sister a glance. “I assure ye, there is naething to worry about.”

“I am not worried.” Catherine kept pace, sure to dodge through the crowd as her sister was doing. “Simply checking, is all. I do not want you to suffer from a mental breakdown. That would put quite the damper on the evening.”

“And I would hate to ruin such a night for ye.”

“That is not what I meant,” Catherine huffed. “And you know it.”

Margaret smirked to herself, taking just a little bit of pleasure in frustrating her sister.

Yet she also appreciated her greatly, beyond grateful that she would take time out of her evening to double-check that Margaret was at ease and not about to lose her head, which I will nae dae, because everything is fine…

albeit, a tad more chaotic than I had thought.

“There is nae need to worry…” Margaret turned about, sure to fix a calm expression on her face, despite the way her nerves continued to lash at her. “I just dae nae want anything to go wrong.”

“It won’t,” Catherine assured her. “And as you can see, there is nothing to fear…” She gestured about the busy ballroom, noting the scores of guests, all of whom seemed to be having a most wonderful evening. “You have done more than anybody might have hoped.”

“Oh good,” Margaret responded dryly. “That is so nice to hear…”

“My meaning is, for a first timer, and someone who is not from here…” She shrugged and then took Margaret by the hands, giving them a squeeze and holding her in an admiring look. “This evening is going perfectly, and you should be proud.”

“I am proud,” Margaret assured her. “Only –”

“And you should be left to enjoy it,” she then cut over her sister. “Leave it to the staff, Mr. Jeffries. I am certain he can handle any problems that arise.”

Margaret bit her lip. She agreed with her sister.

And she had promised Lysander, too, that she would enjoy herself this evening.

And I had meant to. That was, after all, why I opted to host such an event.

Only now that it has started, I cannae stop finding problems that I wish I had thought to correct before this all began.

Indeed, even as she forced a smile for her sister, Margaret looked past her and spied a waiter walking about with an empty tray. He then stopped to speak with a young lady, his smile charming, his laughter flirtatious and highly inappropriate. Her eyes widened at the sight.

“If you will excuse me…”

“Margaret!” Catherine called after her.

Margaret turned and smiled. “I am fine, sister. But I will nae be if you dae nae start enjoying yourself. At least one of us should do.” She shook her head and turned; her sights set firmly on the young waiter…

When Margaret had suggested last month to Lysander that they host a ball at the manor, she’d had no idea just how chaotic and stressful and damn exhausting such a simple suggestion might be.

In her mind, it had sounded fun. A chance to introduce herself and Lysander properly to the ton, confirming for all that this marriage was thriving, and putting to bed any lingering rumors that still existed. It had sounded like the perfect plan.

And maybe it was. For the ball was well attended, a spectacle event that looked to be enjoyed by all.

Well into the evening already, Margaret had been approached by dozens of peers, all of whom agreed that she had done a spectacular job and should be very proud.

Proud, perhaps? But relief is what I will feel when it is all over.

The problem, as she was now finding, was the stress that came with playing host. Everything had to be perfect.

Nothing could go wrong. She was responsible for everyone and everything that occurred and could not simply relax and enjoy herself like she might have wished. That would be too good to be true.

For example, the waiter whom she now made a beeline toward. He was still accosting the young lady… not that the young lady seemed to mind. Margaret would pull him aside, remind him of his job, and then have Mr. Jeffries reprimand him properly –

“There you are.” From nowhere, Lysander swept into her. “I have been looking for you everywhere.” He stepped in front of her, cutting off her path to the waiter.

“I have been about,” she said, looking past him, still on that waiter.

“Here, there, and everywhere,” Lysander chuckled as he slipped his arm around her waist. “You need to slow down, Margaret. You’ll run yourself into exhaustion if you do not stop.”

“I am fine.”

“You will be…” Gently, he began to steer her in the opposite direction of the waiter. “Once you stop, take a breath, and remind yourself of how splendidly tonight is going.”

“I dae nae need to stop to do that…” She looked over her shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief to see the waiter walking away from the young lady. That is one task I can forget, at least. A shame there are a dozen more than require my attendance.

“For me.” Lysander forced Margaret to stand still; he had his hands on her waist, an eyebrow raised in command. “Just thirty seconds is all I ask.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Will it make you happy?”

“Thrilled.”

“And it will keep you from harassing me.”

He laughed. “If that is what you think I am doing. Now, come on…” He stepped in beside her and directed her attention across the ballroom. “Take it in, Margaret. No one should be prouder than you.”

She huffed at the ridiculous request, but did as she was asked, scanning the ballroom while trying her best not to notice errors that needed correcting.

And once she did, she began to understand why Lysander had been so insistent.

Where she was cursed with the anxiety brought from being the hostess, she had forgotten that the little details made no real difference, so long as the guests were enjoying them. Which they certainly were.

It was a cavalcade of color. A cornucopia of smiling faces, laughter and joy, scores of guests moving to and fro as they chattered and drank and danced and simply enjoyed the evening.

Some she knew, some she had met tonight, many she did not recognize or know at all.

But that made little difference. A moment of observing the ball, and Margaret understood only too well the success of this evening, her heart swelling to see it, and to know that she was the cause.

“You see,” Lysander said. “This night is a success; everyone has said so. I am so proud of you.”

She blushed. “Oh, it was nae big thing.”

“Was it not?” he laughed. “So, this last week, how stressed have you been. That was what? For fun?”

“Have you seen my mother and father?” she asked, looking for them through the masses.

“They are fine. As is your brother.” He took her by the hands, smiling warmly as he began to lead her. “Which means that you and I have some time to ourselves.”

“Oh?”

“To dance,” he confirmed. “If you would do me the honor?”

She was about to say yes, for of course she wished to dance with her husband.

Truly, if he had asked to go outside and simply sit with her, she would have said yes without pause.

These past two months had seen them grow closer than she had ever thought possible, two souls joined as one, a missing piece of her finally found in the man whom she loved.

Before she got the chance, however, she spied someone coming their way. A most unexpected sight, for she was the last person whom Margaret thought to see tonight. Not to mention approach her of her own accord.

“Your Grace…” It was Lady Brimstone of all people. She walked with an air of arrogance, a curl to her lip, a look in her eye that told Margaret she had no desire to be here whatsoever. “I wish to come and make my greetings.”

“Ah, Lady Brimstone.” Margaret did not offer her a smile, nor did Lysander. “And thank ye for attending. I hope all is well?”

Lady Brimstone’s upper lip stiffened. “It is. A marvelous evening, to be sure. And Your Grace…” She turned and smiled politely at Lysander. “Thank you also for extending me an invitation.”

“Happy to do it,” Lysander said without warmth.

“I…” Lady Brimstone hesitated, her jaw tightening with clear embarrassment. “I also wish to apologize.”

“Oh?”

“For the letters I sent two months ago. They were in bad taste, written without consideration for…” She grimaced. “For how they might be received. It was not my intent to slander, and I do hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

“Oh, that,” Margaret said as if she was surprised. “Dae nae trouble yourself, Lady Brimstone. I ken you meant nothing by it.” She caught Lysander’s eyes and winked. “Let us treat it as water under the bridge? Happy to be forgotten.”

“You are too kind.”

“No,” Margaret said, keeping an arm linked with Lysander’s so she could pull him in close to her. “Just in love, is all.”

Lady Brimstone’s letters, although explosive, had fallen on deaf ears.

Or rather, Lysander’s quick response, followed by his and Margaret’s joint effort to prove to all and sundry that there was no truth to the rumors, squashed them quickly before they had a chance to take hold.

Perhaps there were still some who believed what they had read, but Margaret’s belief was that tonight would put an end to them entirely.

Did she still feel anger toward Lady Brimstone for what she had done? Of course I do, and I will be sure to keep an eye on her. But as she said, she was too in love and far too happy to let it consume her. She knew what this marriage was, as did Lysander, and that was enough for her.

“If you will excuse us, Lady Brimstone, I was just about to ask my wife for a dance.”

“Yes, of course…” Lady Brimstone smiled and backed away, clearly glad to be given a reprieve.