Sequel: Everlasting

Evermore

viii.

December 24th, 1781 ;

Mary stood next to her betrothed, her arm looped with Harold’s as he socialized; using the invitation to a prestigious ball to farther his contacts. Mary did not blame him; it was not every day that they were given the opportunity to be in a room full of Lords and Ladies. Mary had no doubt the footman announcing those entering the ballroom were breathless from listing all the long-winded titles.

Shifting on her feet, Mary glanced around the ballroom as musical tones rose up from the orchestra box. She watched yearningly as other couples swung around the center of the room, the swirl of colors from dresses would have been dizzying if she was not so intrigued.

“It looks as if your betrothed wishes to dance,” Lord Smithford, the Viscount of Cobham, stated jokingly, gesturing towards Mary with his half-full glass. “Do not let me keep you from taking her for a turnabout the room.”

“Nonsense,” Harold disagreed quickly, turning his blue eyes on her quickly. “You are just fine, are you not?”

Mary smiled even though she wanted to frown, “Completely, My Lord.”

Her words seemed to appease both men and they continued to prattle on about whatever it was they had been discussing; leaving Mary to curiously watch the dancing couples. In truth, she did want to dance but knew it was important for Harold to have the time to himself at the event. Her mother—with her years of infinite wisdom—advised Mary before the party to stand at his side dutifully and idly pass her time, it wasn’t Mary’s place to interfere with his business, and in the end—if all went well—it would benefit their marriage.

As she looked at the growing crowd her eyes couldn’t help but find Lord Scarbourgh, the group around him large as titled mother’s and father’s introduced their unattached daughters. Mary frowned at the sight of him. His appearance, while the image of perfection, was wary and Mary couldn’t help but feel the tiredness she saw in his eyes mirrored her own.

Just as Mary went to look away, as if sensing someone watching him, Lord Scarbourgh looked up and his cool blue eyes met hers. She held his gaze for only a moment before looking away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

Mary pretended to listen to Harold drone on, even as she felt Lord Scarbourgh’s eyes piercing her. Mary was just about to excuse herself from her fiancé to find her mother and father when Lord Scarbourgh approached the trio. “Good evening, gentlemen... Miss Suters.”

Both Harold and Lord Smithford stopped talking mid-conversation and bowed at the waist to the Earl, their greetings echoed as Mary stood tall and stared at him curiously, wondering if he was going to bring up her blatant stare to her fiancé.

“Are you all enjoying the party?” The Earl asked curiously, his gaze drifting over the two men to settle on her, “The music is to everyone’s liking?”

“Of course, Scarbourgh. The party was planned to perfection, as always,” the Viscount told him. “Give my regards to your sister for her lovely planning.”

“I will indeed,” Lord Scarbourgh drawled before his complete attention fell on Mary. “I am pleased that you indeed came, Miss Suters and that you brought your fiancé.”

Harold immediately extended his hand towards the Earl as he spoke, “It was an honor, My Lord. We all were truly humbled to receive your invitation. I am Harold Arnold.”

Lord Scarbourgh grasped Harold’s hand and firmly shook it, and Mary watched the exchange curiously. The Earl was indeed a nice and polite man, despite his outburst at her engagement party and seeing her fiancé and the Earl side by side started an ache low in her belly like the onset of sickness.

Mary watched in silence as the trio of men talked, her eyes never leaving Lord Scarbourgh as she made the horrifying revelation that she was pining for the Earl while standing next to her fiancé. That she indeed would rather marry the attractive older male instead of her betrothed. In all her days, Mary would not have ever imagined herself like one of the other girls’ her age, unattached and pursuant of a man with a title, but she found herself wanting to be that type of girl. Mary found herself wishing she was the type of girl the Earl would take as wife.

Mary wished that her parents would have given her a proper coming out party, that she could socialize with the rest of the debutantes and have had been given the opportunity to have met the Earl under different circumstances. She enjoyed gazing upon his handsome features, and knew he would engage her intellectually whereas Harold seemed to leave her as a back thought while partaking in conversation. She knew that underneath his hard and disinterested exterior, he had to be nice and kind because unthoughtful and cruel men did not seek out engaged ladies to hand deliver invitations.

“Miss Suters, are you unwell?” The Earl asked, concern lacing his voice as his eyes trailed over her face.

Harold turned to look at her, disappointment gracing his features unbecomingly, “Mary?”

“I… I am fine,” Mary quietly reassured, stammering like a fool as she looked away from the Earl who, she realized, she had been staring at longingly the entire time. “I just lost myself in thought is all.”

Her fiancé just frowned before turning back to the two Lords, making a joke about women and their tendency to swoon which piqued Mary’s temper. Instead of taking her excuse as it was, he insisted on belittling her as if she wasn’t present. Removing her arm from the loop of her fiancé’s. Mary pinned him with a vicious stare, “I will be going to find my mother. Lord knows, I could fall unconscious at any moment. I am so feeble after all.”

As a completely aghast expression spread across Harold’s face, Mary made her exit with a sharp turn and walked away from the group of men who, she knew without a doubt, were staring after her.

Instead of going off to find her mother, who was undoubtedly basking in the glories of a society party and couldn’t be bothered by her own daughter’s problems, Mary retreated out of the ballroom to find just a bit of silence so she could cool her anger. Mary knew her temper would be retold to her parents and that she would be chastised for acting unladylike and childish—in front of two Lords, to boot. Mary doubted she would be permitted to leave the house on any unnecessary outings for a long while.

After several moments of aimless wandering the halls, Mary found an unoccupied parlor and took advantage of its quietness, ducking inside and sitting on the chaise with a deep sigh. She had not been sitting even a moment when Lord Scarbourgh walked in through the open parlor doors.

Mary stood quickly, “Excuse me, My Lord. I will find somewhere else to rest.”

“It is fine. Sit, rest,” he encouraged, closing the parlor door so it was cracked open only a small bit.

Mary did as he insisted, perching herself on the edge of the settee and wrung her hands nervously, “My Lord, it's highly improper for us to be alone. I… I do not have a chaperone.”

“No one will come into the wing of the house, it’s the family wing. I only followed because I saw you turn this way,” Lord Scarbourgh told her gently as he sat across from her on the other sofa. “And if anyone did come along we are hardly doing anything improper.”

Mary paled and her eyes grew wide, “I am so sorry. I did not know.”

“No… You wouldn’t,” he drawled, his sapphire eyes kind as he spoke to her. Mary swore she could fall into his eyes and swim forever in them. “You have not attended many parties at the bigger estates?”

Mary frowned, “I am not high society, My Lord and I never had a proper coming out. I am sorry if my lack of etiquette offends you.”

Lord Scarbourgh scoffed, “Hardly offensive. It is actually endearing.”

“Why are you spending your time with me?” Mary asked before she could stop herself. “You have a party to attend to and guests to entertain. Yet you are sitting here with me.”

A pregnant silence filled the room, the tension so thick it was palatable as the two stared at one another. Mary grew more anxious with every silent moment that passed and was ready to stand and leave when the Earl finally spoke up. “I asked before if you loved your fiancé but I never asked if you like him.”

The question took Mary off guard and she struggled to find an answer before settling with a simple one, “Harold is a respectable man that will take care of me.”

Lord Scarbourgh leaned forward, his hands clasped together as his arms rested on his legs, the position was inquisitive as he asked, “You are evading my question, Miss Suters. Do you like him?”

“I like him well enough,” Mary snapped at the Earl angrily. “I do not understand why you are asking such ridiculous questions, Lord Scarbourgh and I do not have to answer them.” Standing suddenly, Mary decided that she was not going to jeopardize her reputation by being caught alone with him. Even if she did wish for more with him, it was illogical to think he would ever want a marriage with her and she would not risk her betrothal.

The Earl stood at the same time, “Please call me Jonathan. I am sorry to offend you, Miss Suters but I can clearly see you do not like your fiancé as much as you claim to.”

“I… I will not call you by your given name,” Mary frantically stammered, her heart beating so rapidly in her chest she wondered if it would beat out of her. “And what does my relationship with Harold matter to you? You are an Earl and we are specs beneath your riding boots. You would not know me from Eve had your cart not almost killed me and that does not entitle you to question my relationship with my betrothed.”

The Earl stared intently at her before saying apologetically, “My curiosity gets to better of me when I am intrigued by something and you intrigue me. I wanted to talk to you, get to know you without the company of your fiancé but I can see you are uninterested in my attention. Have a good evening, Miss Suters and enjoy the rest of the party.”