Chapter 7 Another Stranger

Their Aunt approached them, two fine gentlemen on either side; her smile was broad and naughty. She stopped briefly to hold a discussion with Lucy, introducing the men to her. Beth straightened her stance while Gwen patted her hair again. "You seem happy." She observed the younger girl.

"I enjoy the attention." She whispered. "I choose to. Hold up your best smile, else Aunt Marrily will never forgive you."

Their faces lit up immediately as their Aunt finally stood before them. "Go easy on the wine, sweet child." She warned. Gwen turned red but Aunt Marrily didn't care. "Sir George, these are my nieces, Beth and Gwen. Beautiful, are they not?" Ignoring whatever reply the men would have given, she continued. "Girls, this is Sir George, a fine Cavalry soldier, second son to the Earl of Moore."

"Lovely to make your acquaintance." He shook both their hands, kissing hers on the knuckle, holding on longer until Beth slowly withdrew. He gave her a too-bright smile.

A smile stuck in place on her face, Aunt Marrily finished off with the introductions. "And this is his friend. Lord Claymoir. He is a Baron."

Lord Claymoir kissed both their hands. "How do you do?"

She spared them a polite smile. "Very well. How are you enjoying the ball?"

"It is good, made even much better now." Gwen blushed. Beth was slightly irritated. "You are quite the beauties."

"I think you are very beautiful, Lady Gwen." Gwen's faced turned redder at Lord Claymoir's statement. Aunt Marrily watched from beside them, giving them the reins of the conversation while grinning from ear to ear. "Would you give me your next dance?"

She giggled, blushing so hard no one could miss. "I would." Lord Claymoir waited as she placed her wine glass on the table by the wall, took her hands and led her to the dance floor.

Beth watched her sister dance and found peace in the knowledge that Cossington never broke her. She was always worried, always wondering what she felt, but never brave enough to ask her. If Lord Cossington's presence in their lives had broken her, she feared for Gwen. But the younger girl was better than she had hoped, and for that, she was glad.

"I think you are the most beautiful of the ladies here."

Sir George's voice brought her back to the reality of the ball and that he would soon ask her to dance. She couldn't refuse; Aunt Marrily was still standing beside her, waiting. "I think not." How was she the most beautiful?

"You are beautiful." Sir George said again.

Quick acceptance hastened small conversations. "Thank you."

"Dance with me."

She shook her head slowly, wary of Aunt Marrily. "I am not a very good dancer." Aunt Marrily's eyes grew intense. You had better dance with him. They seemed to say.

He placed his glass on the table. "Neither am I. Let's go make a complete fool of ourselves." Looking to Aunt Marrily's direction again, she groaned inwardly but chose to dance. This one dance would save her a tirade of scolding later. As Beth followed Sir George to the floor, she didn't fail to catch the happiness on Aunt Marrily face.

* * *

As soon as her dance with Sir George ended, Beth bowed to him, held up a formal farewell conversation, and escaped from the ballroom before her Aunt Marrily could find her and pass her to another gentleman. She gave polite excuses to every gentleman that sorted out a dance from her, bowing as they bowed, eyes running to-and-fro, watching out for her Aunt. Poor Lucy must have forgotten how many men she had danced with; and how many times with Lord D'Averette. Gwen looked like she might just about keel over; although her smile told she enjoyed the dance she shared with Lord Claymoir. Uncle Fitzwilliam must have gone to share Brandy with the other men. She could not find him as she escaped, and she prayed she did not run into Aunt Marrily.

She gave one more glance to the ballroom and saw Gwen following Lord Claymoir, walking to a corner of the room, and Lucy nodding to another gentleman, unknowingly holding Lord D'Averette's gaze. Aunt Marrily was a seer. Lord D'Averette was besotted with Lucy, he might soon propose. It would never end, she thought. Following the beams of the moon streaming in through the windows, she walked outside to the balcony. It wasn't enough distance from the ballroom, but she accepted it. The balcony was peaceful and quiet and the moon was beautiful.

It was soothing.

She leaned on the railing and exhaled strongly, wishing she had brought a glass of wine, but glad she hadn't. She had already had one too many; perhaps a glass of water then, one to keep her company. The moon, although not big enough, shone brightly, making her wonder how bright it would be when it would finally reveal itself in all its glory. The garden below reflected the light of the moon and the glows from the lanterns that lit the paths. Beth was content standing and breathing in the beauty of nature. She threw her head back, and in one gulp, raised her face to the sky, and drank it all in. This is better than the ball. She thought.

Someone's breath hitched in the shadows. Beth startled and stepped back from the railing. Her eyes searched for whoever it was that had ruined the peace she thought she had finally found. Standing up straight, she braved a question. "Who is there?" Her voice was a whisper. She cleared her throat. "Who is there?" No answer. "I know someone is standing out here in the dark. Who are you?" Silence. "Why are you out here?"

"To get some quiet." A deep voice replied.

Someone else had wanted, like her, to flee the ball? Was her presence troubling their peace? She excused, "I had no idea anyone else was here. Forgive my intrusion," and made for the door immediately. It was best to stay far from trouble.

"You can seek out some quiet with as much right as I have." The voice called out.

She stopped and turned. "No need for that. I should leave."

"Stay." The voice commanded. And somehow, Beth found herself obeying. She remained rooted to the ground. He stepped out of the shadows - a tall man, silhouetted by the light behind him. "Please." His hand gestured, waving her back. She slowly walked back to her former position and bowed to him. "I take it you escaped from the ball as I have done." She smiled but nodded. "They are out of control, are they not?"

He walked closer to her, and although not able to see his face completely, Beth concluded that he was a man bearing both wealth and power. He leaned on the railing with his left hand, while grasping in his other hand a glass of Port? Brandy? Or was it Whisky? His stance was inviting. She mirrored his stance subconsciously – holding her hands together and crossing her ankles underneath her dress. "My cousin mentioned that 4th e balls hosted here are always amazing, and it wasn't an exaggeration. It is truly wonderful, but I would prefer to be home. I have danced with more men in that room than in my entire life." She exhaled."I am tired, dizzy and probably in my liquor bottle." She said to herself.

"You don't look drunk." He stated, absentmindedly swirling the wine in his glass.