Page 83 of His Highland Duchess
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 understandwhyLysander had been so insistent. Where she wascursed 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.”
