Rhonda Woodward by White Rosesand Starlight

his brown hair and eyes familiar, claimed the next dance. He did indeed look grown up in his fine evening clothes. And because he was cousin to Mrs. Birtwistle and Major Fielding, she was prepared to think well of him.
    “How very good to see you, Mr. Halbury. It must be four years since we last met.”
    “At least,” he replied, smiling warmly.
    They danced a few measures in silence and she was gratified that he knew all the steps and performed them with manly grace.
    “Miss Buckleigh,” he said as he guided her through the arch of arms made by the dancers before them, “you were always a pretty girl, but you have grown into a great beauty in the years we’ve been apart.”
    “You are too kind,” she replied, feeling a little uncomfortable at such overt flattery.
    Thankfully, he said no more and once the set ended, he proved a most obliging guest by standing up for every dance since then.
    The ball proceeded in a lively fashion, and now Marina stood with Deirdre, Jane Willingham, and Lydia Hollings, waiting for the next set to begin. The chatter of the excited girls saved Marina from having to make conversation, for which she was relieved.
    She caught sight of Lord Cortland again. She had done that a vexing amount of times this evening. Every time she vowed to never look in his direction again, she would meet his golden-hazel gaze, and be startled anew.
    He stood across the floor with Mr. Penhurst and Mr. Langford. Surprisingly, he had not immediately taken himself off to the billiard room upon his arrival. Instead, he had taken Lady Darley on the floor for the first set, then Mama for the next, and his aunt for the following.
    As it had been at the Ridgeton ball, the Marquis garnered a great deal of attention from the other guests. He was not only the highest-ranking gentleman in the room, he was quite the most imposing.
    And despite his willingness to take the dance floor tonight, she could not help thinking, by something in his expression, that they would all end as part of an amusing anecdote he would share with his friends at a later date.
    Deirdre and the other girls were growing more and more huffed up by his avoidance of dancing with any of them. “He has only danced with married ladies. It’s too bad of him!” they each said in their turn.
    Espying the very regal Lady Darley standing with Mrs. Langford nearby, Marina excused herself from the grumbling girls. She determined to circulate amongst the guests, ensuring their contentment, as befitted the eldest daughter of the house.
    “Ah, Miss Buckleigh, you are just in time to clear up a mystery for us,” Lady Darley said with an arch smile.
    “Certainly, if I can.”
    “That woman over there,” Lady Darley gestured with her folded fan.
    Marina looked over to see Mrs. Birtwistle standing by a pillar. Her ball gown was a lustrous shade of cranberry, flattering her figure with its expertly styled simplicity. Around her neck was a simple gold chain and garnet pendent. She was the loveliest Marina had seen her in a very long time.
    “That is Mrs. Birtwistle.”
    “Yes,” Lady Darley nodded. “Whilst in the village she was pointed out to me as a
mantua-maker
. Yet, this evening, she was presented as the sister of the charming Major Fielding, whom we have met after church last week. This is most singular, Miss Buckleigh.”
    Marina felt at a complete loss for words. Of course, Lady Darley and her friends had never mingled with anyone they considered so far beneath their social status, yet Mrs. Birtwistle, by birth, was their equal.
    Marina looked at Lady Darley, and the others, gazing back at her with questioning, faintly censorious eyes. How could Mrs. Birtwistle’s unique situation be explained?
    Glancing again to the lady in question, she instantly perceived, by her frozen expression, that if Mrs. Birtwistle could not actually hear Lady Darley, she certainly perceived that she was being discussed. Marina’s heart went to the woman, dismayed that she