Love & Reputation (HC #3.5)

2: Discourse & Deliberation

There was a particular type of tiredness that came upon Alexander at balls.

As he sank onto a settee, he raised a hand to his face and rubbed at the tight muscles of his jaw. It was clear he'd been frowning too much that evening – his teeth ached from clenching them, and it took active effort to smooth his brow – but the fault did not lie with him alone; if the Ton did not want to be frowned at, they needed to do something that inspired another emotion.

Granted, that was not a very generous position to hold, but he had a lifetime of pent up animosity.

With a sigh, Alex let his hand drop away and leant into the hard back of the lounge. It was not just the ball, he admitted to himself, his gaze sweeping around the room. The library was small, but well decorated, with heavy oak bookshelves lining the walls, leatherbound books all but glowing in the firelight. The rug beneath his boots was a rich purple, with gold thread weaving an intricate pattern across the surface. It was opulent. Expensive. Slowly, he inched his shoes back off the carpet.

Yes, it wasn't just the ball that had him unsettled. It was being back in this place.

Between the crackle of the fire and the hum of the quartet that snaked around the edges of the door, Alex nearly missed the soft thumps of footsteps in the hallway outside of the library. His head jerked, eyes squinting in the poor light to glare at the door. He briefly considered hiding – surely he could wrap himself easily enough in one of the heavy gold curtains drawn across the window – but his pride wouldn't quite allow that. It was easy enough if he was discovered here to say that he'd needed a moment alone, but to be found hiding... he'd never hear the end of it.

The footsteps passed the door to the library without pause, a shadow briefly disrupting the light that peaked beneath the door. Alex let out a long, slow breath. Then he unclenched his jaw again.

He knew he wouldn't have long alone. He'd escaped his mother only moments earlier, melting into the crowd as she'd searched for one of his brothers, but she'd notice his absence soon enough and send someone after him. Then he'd be dragged back to the ball. And his brothers. It was not that he didn't want to see them – it had been a painfully long time since they'd all been in a room together – but at a ball, surrounded by all and sundry, was not the place for it. Not if Alex had any say in it.

Distracted by his thoughts, Alex did not hear the footsteps until they paused outside the door. As the handle turned, he let his frown fall back into place, glaring at the door as it opened hesitantly. The figure that stepped inside was willowy, a dark satin dress hanging from her frame and just brushing the ground. The firelight caught in her blonde hair, throwing it almost to auburn, but that couldn't conceal her identity from him.

Alex would know Rosemary Albright anywhere.

He saw the very moment she noticed him, pausing mid-step and catching herself against the door.

"Oh, forgive me, I..." She trailed off, her eyes narrowing in the darkness. He felt her gaze trace his outline and he shrugged.

"Well," he said, softly so as not to startle her, "are you in or out?"

She stepped into the room before Alex had finished his question, pressing the door firmly closed behind her. She paused with her back against the wood, letting her eyes adapt to the darkness, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Your brother's guest list seems to grow every year," she commented, smiling wanly at him.

Alex wouldn't know: this was the first house party of his brother's he'd attended in nigh on a decade. But his eldest brother, Lucas, had always been sociable. It was a good trait for a marquess.