20 - Dances

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Griffin was half-tempted to get drunk before the party had started, and now that his house was filled with strangers, he wished that he had. There was something about crowds that he despised. Maybe it was the noise, or perhaps the expectations. But really, it was all the bloody annoying questions everyone kept asking him about his father.

There, at least, were a few men still interested in his business. He tried to give them the best of his attention.

"This is the first time I've seen the Griffin estates open to the public in ten years," one of his wholesale buyers - the priest of a Catholic church, nonetheless - said as he looked up at the ceilings. "Warms my heart. Makes me think of your dear grandmother, God bless her."

Griffin nodded respectfully. "She poured everything she had into this place. Thank you for your kind words."

"I can see you're still putting your heart into it as well, my dear boy," the pastor said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't lose faith."

Griffin had given up on the faith a long time ago, but he wasn't about to say it.

"I hate to interrupt," a woman in a powder blue gown said, stalking up to Griffin and putting her hand on his arm, "but I've been wanting to meet the host of this swinging party since an hour ago." She held her hand out for him to kiss. "Maribelle Smith. It's a pleasure."

He looked at her hand but didn't bother to take it. It was the tenth or eleventh ringless hand he had been offered, and he had lost all interest in even trying to fake manners.

"Thank you for coming," he said with a nod.

The woman glanced at her hand that hung awkwardly in the air and seemed to decide better of the gesture. She pulled back her hand and smoothed out her dress instead.

"You know, Mr. Griffin," she said in a tone as smooth as her skin makeup, "I heard the rumors of you, but came to find that they're all false! Everything about you screams 'charming', 'sophisticated', and - oh, do I dare say it? - quite mysterious in the best way."

Griffin tightly smiled. "You determined all that from across the room, then?"

She laughed in full, swatting his arm playfully. "I'm quite good at judging character, don't you know?"

"Something we have in common, I think."

She mistakenly took it as a compliment.

Griffin turned his gaze to see that the priest had escorted himself out of the conversation, but coming to take his place was a cool and collected Rose.

"Nathaniel, darling," Rose said, coming up to him and taking his arm. "You simply must talk to the chefs, they're in a panic about the h'orderves."

Griffin nodded. "Of course." He turned to Maribelle and gave a polite bow. "A pleasure. Please excuse me."

Maribelle fumbled for words but found none as Rose took Griffin's arm and escorted him towards the kitchen.

"Still stealing hearts, I see," Rose teased as all the women nodded to him on their way.

"I don't steal them. They just see I have enough money to purchase them."

She patted his arm. "Come now, Nathaniel. Not all women are after money."

"No. Some of them are after more than that."

She pressed down a smile. "Hmm... sounds like you have something in common with them."

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her. She mirrored the action. He opened his mouth to reply, but Patrick's voice came out first.

"Why, don't you two make the most dashing couple?" Patrick complimented. "I'm afraid you have competition with Catriona and myself, though."

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