Page 23 of The Marquess of Temptation
"Yes," even though he knew that Everleigh was only trying to show kindness, Alex felt himself bristle with indignation; "She will be busy dancing with me."
"Though of course, when my brother can be persuaded to leave Hestia's side, she will be delighted to dance with you, your Grace," Phoebe interjected swiftly, with a sharp elbow to Alex's ribs to silence him.
He glowered, but kept his peace, for he knew that Phoebe was right to chastise him for his ill manners. He could not expect Hestia to have a successful launch into society if he did not allow her to speak to anyone bar him. After the wedding, he thought, they would have all the time in the world together. Perhaps he would take her away, down to the small estate he owned near Penzance, and they could spend some time alone together, away from prying eyes.
His sister stole Hestia away soon after, leaving Alex to moodily stalk the periphery of the ballroom. He nodded at the many familiar faces he passed, though engaged none in conversation. A familiar fop of blonde hair, however, drew him from his reclusive state.
"Pierre," he called, clapping his fellow academic heartily on the back, "This was the last place I was expecting to find you."
"It is the last place I expected to be," the Frenchman replied with a weak smile, "However the Duke kindly invited me last week, when he paid a visit to Montagu House to check onourprogress."
Alex could not help but note the tone of disapproval in Dubois' voice as he spoke of their shared project. Since meeting Miss Stockbow, Alex had been rather neglecting his work on translating the Egyptian steele, and it was clear that the French man was annoyed.
"I know I have not been very helpful," he offered an apology with a rueful grin, "But I inherited a ward, then found myself a bride and all thought of translation simply left my head. Once the wedding is over and done with, I'll be back to my old self."
"Yes," Dubois lowered his voice to a whisper, so low that Alex had to lean in to hear him. "Do you think she knows where the missing piece of the stone is, this Stockbow girl? Is that why you're marrying her?"
His question shocked Alex for two reasons; the first being that he had forgotten Dubois knew of David Stockbow's connection to the missing stone, the second being that he himself had been so overcome by feelings for Hestia that her connection to the missing piece of stone, hadn't even registered.
"I have not yet asked her," he replied truthfully, which made Dubois sigh with irritation.
"For goodness sake, just ask the girl. She must know where it is! What's the point of having her as your wife, if she doesn't lead you to the stone?"
Alex felt slightly uncomfortable at Dubois's insinuation that he was only marrying Hestia in the hope that she might reveal where --or if--her father had hidden the steele. Dubois's words perfectly showed his focused determination to decipher the mysteries of Egyptian hieroglyphics, at any cost. In fact, Alex was certain, if Dubois had stumbled upon Hestia before he had, that the Frenchman would have married her instead of him.
"Must dash, old fellow, my sister is beckoning for me," Alex offered apologetically, hoping that Dubois would not look over his shoulder and find that Phoebe was doing no such thing. Alex pushed his way through the throngs of people, to where his sister and his intended stood, deep in conversation Lady Caroline, Lord Payne's sister.
"There you are," Phoebe called brightly, as he arrived at her side. "You're just in time for the first dance of the night."
Indeed, the orchestra, who had been warming up, struck up the first notes of a Quadrille just as Phoebe finished her sentence. Alex would rather have shared a more intimate waltz with Miss Stockbow, but he chivalrously took her hand and led her out onto the floor.
"I have never danced in public, my Lord," she whispered, her petrified eyes darting to and fro, as though plotting an escape route.
"But you know the steps?" Alex questioned.
She nodded and he gave her an encouraging smile; "That's all that is required, I swear. Everyone will be too wrapped up in themselves to pay you any heed."
This was, in fact, a bare-faced lie; Alex knew full well that the whole room was watching as he and Hestia joined three other couples, for the set dance, though he wasn't about to share that with her. The dance was a lively number, and soon Hestia's face was pink with exertion and excitement. As the music came to an end, Hestia's hand was holding Alex's and he silently marvelled at how perfectly they fit together.
He led her from the ballroom floor, heading through the crowd toward his sister, who was chatting animatedly with friends by the bowls of ratafia. Alex had a sneaking suspicion that her animation was partly fuelled by the sweet alcohol, for she seemed even more exuberant than usual.
Hestia, who had appeared relaxed after their energetic dance, suddenly stiffened beside him. Alex glanced at her with concern, following her frightened gaze to where a tall man of about forty, with a shock of floppy, blonde hair stood.
Lord Bleakly, Viscount Havisham --Alex recognised him from White's, though he had not thought of the familial connection that the Viscount shared with his betrothed.
The whole room seemed to have noticed Hestia's discomfort and were watching gleefully, to see what would unfold. Would the Viscount snub his niece? It would be the talk of the town for weeks, if he did.
Havisham paled, as he sighted his niece. Alex witnessed a multitude of emotions flicker across the Viscount's face, until he finally settled on a look of resignation. He said a quiet word to the gentleman he had been conversing with and ambled over to the Marquess and Hestia.
"Delaney," he called, in a voice slightly louder than was usual, which Alex assumed was for the benefit of the listening crowd. "My congratulations. I wish you and my niece every happiness for your shared future together."
As the two men briefly clasped hands in an awkward handshake, Alex swore he could almost feel a rush of air, as the crowd sighed with disappointment: there would be no scandal to discuss the next morning. That Lord Bleakly did not actually talk to his niece, nor even glance at her, and instead directed his words at the Marquess, was neither here nor there. As the night drew to a close, Alex happily decided that Hestia's launch had been a resounding success, and that things could only get easier from here on in.
