Page 5 of Marquess of Stone

“On the other hand,” he replied smoothly, “I find that reality frequently contains depths that reputation hardly acknowledges. Do you not concur, Lord Stone?”

Lord Stone, who had remained positioned near the fireplace with casual determination, nodded slightly. “Certainly. Although, at times I have found those depths can be quite perilous for the unwary explorer.”

Marian’s back stiffened at his remarks, the subtle challenge in his tone igniting a spark of defiance within her. “Exploration is frequently essential to reveal the truth, regardless of how hazardous the route may be, My Lord.”

A slight smile creased Lord Stone’s lips, and his eyes sparkled with challenge. “Well said for a true adventurer, Lady Marian. One can only hope that the journey merits the risk.”

“I would dare to assert that the finest ones invariably do, Your Grace.” Marian responded, her voice unwavering despite the flutter in her chest. His dark gaze and subtle smirk made her head spin and her mouth dry. He seemed utterly immune to her charm, instead flipping the script on her, makingherfeel utterly unnerved.

As the greetings flowed seamlessly, another nobleman appeared. Lydia’s voice, ever the attentive hostess, rose once more. “Ah, and here comes the Duke of Myste.”

The Duke carried himself with a self-assured elegance that only years of privilege could confer. His deep-set eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on the Brandon sisters with a brief but deliberate nod. “Ladies, it is a pleasure. I hope your journey has been kind to you?”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Marian replied, dipping into a respectful curtsy. His gaze, while not unkind, bore the weight of someone accustomed to being both observed and obeyed.

Marian nodded, partaking in polite conversation while her thoughts — irritatingly — remained tethered to the figure lurking at the fringes of her awareness. Lord Stone’s gaze, though seemingly aimed elsewhere, felt as palpable as a physical touch, a reminder that their earlier conversation was far from concluded.

During dinner, Marian found herself seated directly opposite Lord Stone, a positioning that felt less like coincidence and more like fate’s own brand of sarcastic humor.

“Tell me, Lady Marian…” Lord Stone’s voice startled her slightly, pulling her from her thoughts. He spoke during a brief pause in the discussion, his voice modulated just right to reach her ears without attracting unwanted attention. “… what do you think about coincidence?”

Marian felt a rush of warmth rise to her cheeks, but she compelled herself to stay composed. “I think,” she answered, selecting her words as meticulously as a jeweler choosing fine gems, “that coincidence frequently acts as a handy disguise for intent, My Lord.”

His eyes sparkled with admiration for the counter. “And intentions? What disguises do they don?”

“That,” she replied, raising her glass with intentional elegance, “is entirely contingent upon who possesses them.”

His smile widened, reflecting an expression that suggested secrets waiting to be uncovered. “Well, I trust my intentions, once unveiled, will not let you down.”

“Only time will reveal that, My Lord,” She replied although her tone stayed impartial. She had no desire to reveal how his words had impacted her.

As the attendants began to clear the dishes, the buzz of conversation diminished, guests sinking into a cozy rhythm of shared anecdotes and joyous laughter. Yet, Marian remained acutely aware of Lord Stone’s presence, as if he generated his own gravity field that seemed to pull at her attention, despite her best efforts.

“If I did not know any better, I would say that you were glaring at me, Lady Marian.” Lord Stone’s voice came from behind her, just as she entered the ballroom.

Marian turned sharply, her hazel eyes narrowing as she met his piercingly blue eyes. “I assure you, you are mistaken, My Lord.” Marian felt a touch of irritation light up in her chest. Had she been looking at him? She had been distracted, staring into nothingness, but perhaps her absent gaze might have landed on him.

“Am I truly?” he inclined his head, his smirk widening. “Because, if appearances had lethal consequences, My Lady, I fear I might already be on my journey to the afterlife.”

Marian sensed a surge of warmth creeping to her face, but she bit her lip, compelling herself to stay composed. “Perhaps you ought to refrain from vying for my attention, My Lord, lest you provoke destiny with your tiresome antics.”

He laughed and placed a hand over his heart in feigned self-defense. “Lady Marian, I am simply making an effort to engage in courteous dialogue.”

Marian’s lips quivered although she would not grant him the pleasure of a smile. “Courteous dialogue generally does not entail irritating the other individual.”

“Irritating?” Lord Stone leaned in a bit, his voice lowering to a secretive whisper. “Surely not. I was merely commending your capacity to appear so tranquil while obviously disapproving of every attendee in this room.”

Marian’s jaw clenched, yet she chose not to take the bait he offered. “If I appear serene, My Lord, it is because I am simply so. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Before he could respond, a sharp tap of a cane against the floor drew everyone’s attention.

The Viscount Crowton entered, and his gaze swept across the room, sharp and calculating, before landing on Marian. His lips curled into a thin line, one that did not reach his eyes. With deliberate steps, he crossed the room, his predatory air impossible to ignore. He was tall and angular, his sharp cheekbones and thin smile giving him an air of practiced superiority. As he examined the area, his gaze sparkled as if evaluating the worth of those around him.

Lord Stone, who had not yet moved aside, stayed solidly positioned, his playful grin transforming into a more cautious expression.

“Lady Marian,” the Viscount spoke effortlessly as he approached her, his voice dripping with allure, “I have been looking forward to seeing you this evening.”

Marian dipped into a polite curtsy. “Viscount Crowton,” she said, her voice courteous but cool.

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