The Bet

Chapter 7: Kenston ball

Frances wanted to skive off Kenston ball. Really what was the point, Marcus wouldn't come, she thought.

Alas, her mother would have none of it. So, she found herself dancing with one gentleman after another. Her dance card was full, the moment she entered the ball room. Though her dance cards have been full for most of the days, the speed in which it filled today was astounding.

She missed Marcus, even though he said he wouldn't come she couldn't help wishing he would.

'Miss. Hill,' greeted Antony.

She curtsied, murmuring 'Mr. Antony.'

He laughed at her gesture and said, 'I'm not a noble man, so you need not curtsy me.'

'Ho! I forgot,' replied Frances.

It was so like Frances not to mind about titles and standings, Antony thought.

'If you do not want to dance the rest of the evening, I suggest you fake a twisted ankle,' he whispered to her.

She looked at him sheepishly and asked, 'Is it that obvious!', her cheeks coloring.

'I'm just observant' replied Antony.

She nodded and made to walk, but stumbled howling 'Aww!'

Antony was surprised, he meant it as a joke. Her acting was so natural he almost believed it.

He helped her up and asked 'Are you alright?.'

'No! I think I hurt my ankles,' she said in a loud voice.

Antony noticed Frances was clutching her right leg when she fell, but she was walking with a limp in her left leg, and couldn't control his mirth.

He helped her into a chair.

'I will be fine, I just need to rest my foot, I am sure I will be alright tomorrow,' she reassured the crowd around her, which seemed to be gentlemen of marriageable age with expressions appropriate to a friend's death bed.

Some helpful gentleman had found her a foot rest. She became nervous, she forgot which leg was supposed to hurt. She looked at Antony pleadingly. He pointed at her left foot with his eyes. She looked relieved as she placed her left foot on the stool.

Antony craftily suggested that she should have something to drink to calm her nerves.

Every gentleman rushed to fetch her a drink. Antony took a vacant seat near her.

'Thanks,' she murmured.

'You are an exceptionally good actress, you miss your calling,' he said teasingly.

'You are too,' at his incredulous look she added, 'Ho! the look of surprise on your face when I fell, no one would believe you gave me the idea.'

'I suggested it as a joke, and did not think for a minute that you would actually do it.' He laughed seeing her face which seemed to tell, 'Well I am devious, what did you expect?'

The table near Frances was covered with many glasses of lemonade, eclairs and even champagne.

'I would choose eclairs if I were you. Nothing is a better pick-me-up than chocolate.'

'Why do you think I need a pick-me-up?' she asked as she took two glasses of Eclairs and handed one to him.

'As I said, I am absorbent,' he replied.

She took a sip, she felt a little better. 'So Marcus' he started, she choked.

'Are you alright?' he asked.

'Yes, yes I'm fine,' she gasped with a little cough. She couldn't help looking around to see whether Marcus was there.

Antony could see Frances has been taken in by Marcus. He didn't know what to tell Frances, so she wouldn't get her hopes up.

'You were saying,' she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

'Yes, I just. Well! So Marcus came calling,' he said awkwardly. 

'Yes, twice,' she replied glowingly. Antony was upset, it was unlike Marcus, he had gone too far this time.

Antony decided to have a talk with Marcus. He gulped down the rest of the eclairs and bid farewell.

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