who: marchioness marianne seymour ( @marchioncssâ )
where: argyll ball
Malcolm had done his duty, danced with too many young eligible ladies to count, knowing that if he couldnât offer his own attentions, he could at least lend a hand in showing them off to men who might. Never more than one dance, though, not that he had even been tempted, but a few of the conversations he had held had been lively enough time could have slipped away him if it wasnât for his paranoia about such things. Â
He mingled, laughing with friendly faces, and introducing himself with a smooth smile and pleasant words to those few who were new to him. But there was a face he searched for in particular, a bit surprised that with her habit of pestering (in all fondness) he hadnât seen her yet, as she escorted a lady to his side in hopes of finally taming the Cary beast. Â
Spotting her, he made his way over, stopping a few times for quick hellos, not wanting any sort of rumor on his eagerness to be in her company, when the words that would be written in between the lines anything but true.  âMy Lady,â he greeted her with a courteous nod of his head, âI have to say, Iâm quite surprised you havenât badgered me with yet another one of your many friends in want of a husband. Have your coffers of eligible ladies finally runneth dry?â
If there was one thing that her very first season had taught her, it was that being able to conceal oneâs true feelings was an advantage that a price could not be put on. The Ton was rarely a place where true honesty was favoured and so she had learnt to dress up her opinions to match those around her and hide any flickers of emotions that might suggest she felt otherwise. As with everything she put her mind to she had succeeded, excelled even, and so now she could spend a whole evening with her expression schooled into one of polite neutrality, only breaking into smiles and laughter when it was warranted.
There were some that she was too fond of, however, for her to remain so practised and poised. Her family were undeniably in that number but as she was approached by a certain viscountâs son. âMr Cary.â Even her best efforts to keep her features neutral tended to fail within moments of their exchanges and this time was no exception. Brow was raised in undeniable anticipation at his words, knowing that his ways never ceased to both infuriate her and endear him to her. A small shake of her head was given, equal parts exasperated and disapproving, but there was a smile tugging at the edge of her lips that she knew she would struggle to hide.Â
Lips pursed slightly as she composed herself, light, dry words leaving her lips. âAnd I suppose if I were to say that I had exhausted all options and had no choice but to declare you a truly lost cause you would breath a sigh of relief?â The question was mostly rhetorical but she did leave just enough time for him to squeeze in an answer before she continued. âUnfortunately, in your eyes at least, you will have to wait a little longer for that day as I do not give up quite so easily. Besides, you seem to have made quite the valiant effort tonight all by yourself.âÂ