An Innocent Affair

VIII

"Love, like Fortune, favours the bold." E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

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VIII.

Cressie and her mother were announced into the Fentonbury ball, much like they had at the Ashwood ball. The ton were once again dressed divinely, the musicians were playing a welcoming aria and servants were making their way around the room carrying trays of expensive champagne. Cressie was helped to fasten her dance card around her wrist, and her mother was quick to scrawl Mr Delaney's name beside the first two dances.

"I wonder where he is," Mrs Martin murmured as she dropped the pencil. She subtly craned her neck to survey the ballroom.

"Is it a good idea to be so often seen with the same gentleman, Mama?" Cressie asked quietly. Ever since she agreed to the dances, Cressie had felt the obligation hanging over her like an omen. She had never looked forward to anything less than attending this ball, and in her heart Cressie knew that was ridiculous. She had personally experienced far worse, and really, dancing with a gentleman was not a terrible fate.

Cressie theorised that she disliked what Mr Delaney represented far more than the man himself. Really, he had done nothing to offend save do exactly what gentlemen were supposed to be doing during the Season. Cressie just had no interest.

She just wanted to talk to Mr Jem again.

Mrs Martin petted Cressie's arm as she took it to lead her into the ballroom. "Of course not, dearest," she agreed. "We shall not be settling on anyone so soon. But we must be clever. You and I both know that your lack of a dowry will render you an impossible match to many of the eligible gentlemen here. When wealthy men take an interest in you with no fear of your lack of fortune, we must encourage it."

Cressie interpreted her mother's answer to mean that they absolutely would be encouraging Mr Delaney's interest.

As they moved through the crowds, Mrs Martin and Cressie were dutiful in greeting and paying their respects to the many senior members of the aristocracy whom they had made the acquaintances of at the Ashwood ball or during their many promenades throughout the week.

And then they came to the Duke and Duchess of Ashwood. Cressie immediately noticed the duchess appeared a little less comfortable than she had been at her own ball. She was being supported by her husband, but then, Cressie thought, she was quite obviously with child, and she understood that this could be a very trying and tiring experience for a lady. With them was Mr Jem.

The moment she spotted him, Cressie felt a ridiculously wide smile spread across her face, and this was directly in response to the fact that he was smiling at her also. She saw it immediately. His youth, his vibrance, his spirit.

"Mrs Martin, Miss Martin, how do you do this evening?" asked the duke.

Both Cressie and her mother curtseyed. "We are both very well, I thank you, Your Grace," responded Mrs Martin dutifully. "We are pleased with the Fentonbury ambience, but I do believe that nothing could compare to your attention to detail, Your Grace," Mrs Martin complimented the duchess.

The duchess smiled, albeit bashfully, before saying, "I will pass on your compliments on to the dowager, Mrs Martin, for she saw to every detail of the Ashwood ball. I find myself quite unaccustomed to Town. I have lived in the country all my life."

Her candour surprised Cressie, but she admired it all the same. She supposed she felt quite the same. The pace of London was unlike anything she had experienced.

In an act that was quite uncommon for the aristocracy, particularly in public, the duke leaned over and kissed the duchess' temple, before cuddling her into his side. Cressie found that she quite adored the duke's display of affection for the duchess. Theirs was clearly a love match in every way.