Love & Reputation (HC #3.5)

1: For the Sake of Politeness

"You should just consider it, dear."

Rosemary Claire Albright, née Vermont, did not want to consider it. Still, she smiled politely at the matron and tried not to let her irritation show.

"Thank you, Lady Elliot. I appreciate your..." She hoped the older woman did not hear her hesitation. "...advice."

It was several more minutes before Rosemary could escape the conversation, waiting until Lady Elliot was distracted by a footman bearing a plate of petits fours to beg her apologies and melt into the crowd. For a moment, the matron looked as if she might protest, but then she spotted a small, pink cake, and forgot about Rosemary entirely.

As she turned away, the younger woman let out a sigh of relief, her smile fading into exhaustion. The evening had only just begun, and yet she felt as if she'd been at that ball for years, smiling at the same people, accepting their condolences, and listening to their many unsolicited opinions. It was not that she didn't appreciate it... She let out a quiet huff, laughing to herself; actually, she didn't appreciate it. Not one bit.

She skirted the centre of the room, pulling her placid smile back into place as she dipped her head at invitations to converse and politely declined requests to dance. She could see the archway against the fall wall, could almost taste the promise of a quiet moment alone in the corridor, and if she was particularly lucky, she might even make it to the library before her mother discovered she'd disappeared.

"Oh, Mrs Albright!" The man who stepped forward to accost her and interrupt her flight to freedom was familiar, but by no means a friend. Lord Anthony Wells was, in all regards, a peacock, and as he swept into a deep bow, Rosemary had to duck to the side to avoid being battered by one such feather. When he straightened, however, her smile was serene. "Or have you reverted to Miss Vermont after all these years?"

Whatever benefit of the doubt she'd afforded him vanished in seconds. "My name remains Mrs Albright, Lord Wells."

"Ah, a pity, a great pity." His jowls quivered as his mouth arranged itself into some semblance of a pout. "You know, Mrs Albright, there are a great many men who might restore you to your station. If you were to simply change... this..." His gesture, little more than a vague rolling of his fingers, was more than sufficient to highlight his distaste with her dress. "Then even I might –"

Rosemary let out a deliberately light peal of laughter, clasping her hands at her waist. "Oh, Lord Wells, you are very kind to worry about me so, but I assure you, I am fine as I am." His mouth twitched, and she worried he might try to speak again, continuing quickly, "Now if you'll excuse me, I am in search of a friend."

She bobbed a quick curtsey, and moved around him, maintaining the polite curl of her lips as he tried to continue talking, nodding although she could not hear him over the music of the string quartet. When a pair of gentleman – mercifully – walked between them, she turned away fully and did her best to disappear into the crowd once more.

She made it to the archway without being further accosted, darting into the hallway and feeling peace descend on her as the hubbub of the ball quieted slightly. In her haste, she collided with another rounding the corner. Rosemary let out a gasp as the air was knocked from her chest, and it was only the hands that gripped her upper arms that kept her upright. "Oh, forgive me, I-" As she glanced up, her apology froze on her lips.

The man she'd bumped into was neither stranger nor acquaintance; he was family... almost. Mister Alexander Kilroy was her cousins' cousin, and the fact that they shared no blood was plain to see. Alexander's skin was dark, like his father's, but where the elder Mister Kilroy bore a permanent smile, his son wore a frown. He released her quickly, and had stepped away from her with a quick nod before he actually looked her in the face. The wave of recognition was unmistakable.