“Why, thank you, Your Grace,” she gave him a genuine smile.
“I do believe that I have withheld the honor of dancing with you from many a suitor here,” he pointed out. The truth was, he wanted her all to himself, selfishly so. She was too beautiful for anyone else, even for him.
She shook her head dismissively. “I have no suitors, nor do I wish for any,” she replied in an equally genuine manner, while they continued to dance. Strangely, he could tell that she meant every word of it, and it surprised him. “You yourself know that this arrangement of ours is purely out of necessity, not wish to get married to anyone ever.”
“Ever?” he echoed. He had never met a woman who did not have this ubiquitous dream that seemed to belong to every woman: fall in love and get married. It all sounded simple enough, to those who didn’t know the true face of love. But that didn’t mean that marriage was out of the equation. It was the simpler version of life. Marriage to someone who would agree to the same conditions. No unpleasant surprises, no pain, no disrespect. That was what he wanted.
The light banter was turning into a serious discussion, as it veered towards the topic of marriage. Her sentiment was one that caught Alexander off guard. He thought that it was simply he who did not pair up to her standards of a husband. Now, it seemed that no one would.
“I’ve always believed that marriage is not a path I wish to tread,” she stated, her words carrying a quiet determination.
Alexander, taken aback by her declaration, could not conceal his disbelief. “Surely, you jest, Miss St. Clair. Marriage is a cornerstone of societal order, a union that brings stability and continuity. How could you dismiss such a fundamental institution?”
Phyllis, her eyes reflecting a mixture of defiance and conviction, responded firmly. “Your Grace, it is not a dismissal of societal norms, but rather a personal choice. I value my independence and the freedom to shape my destiny on my terms.”
“What if you find a husband who will support your choices of personal growth as a woman?” he inquired.
Her eyes widened in shock in disbelief. “I do believe it is my turn to say that surely, you jest. Where on earth am I to find such a man, even if he did exist?” She paused for a moment, only to shake her head again. The ballroom’s enchanting atmosphere was already shattered by the clash of their opposing views. “No, no,” she concluded. “My mind is made up.”
At that moment, the last chords of the music were heard, and silence veiled over them. She pulled her hands away from his as if she had been scorched.
“Thank you for the dance, Your Grace. If you will excuse me, I believe I need some fresh air.”
Before he could say anything to that, she turned around and hastily departed from him, elbowing her way through the crowd, finally disappearing through the main door. The tension around him lingered even in the wake of her departure, a silent echo of their differing perspectives. He disagreed with her, that much was true, but at the same time, he admired her courage to state her opinion so unapologetically. He did not know a single woman who had the courage to do that.
Just as he was about to follow her, he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice called out to him.
“Your Grace,” the earl spoke cheerfully. “There is a friend here I would like you to meet. He is very interested in hearing more about your business venture…”
Alexander’s gaze lingered on the door for a few moments longer, then he reminded himself why he was here in the first place.
* * *
Seeking solace and a confidante in the midst of the bustling ball, Phyllis gracefully navigated through clusters of dancers. The enchanting melodies and swirling gowns created a kaleidoscope of colors, but her mind was preoccupied with the recent disagreement with the duke.
Her search for her sister, Joyce, proved elusive amidst the sea of masked faces. She weaved through the dance floor and scanned the elegant assembly, hoping to find a familiar silhouette or the flash of her sister's gown. The grandeur of the ballroom, however, seemed to conspire against her quest for a sympathetic ear.
Where could she be? She thought to herself nervously, eyeing the crowd. However, no matter how long and hard she looked, there was no sign of her sister anywhere.
She found her way out of the ballroom, and the path led her outside into the garden. There, she hoped that the fresh evening breeze might bring some clarity to this situation. However, what awaited her there was exactly the opposite. She stopped where she was, her eyes wide with disbelief.
There, in the secluded part of the garden, hidden from plain sight, she found her sister and the viscount, holding hands, standing dangerously close to each other. She gasped with shock, pressing her hand to her lips, as the two lovebirds seemed oblivious to anyone else’s presence in their dreamland.
The moonlight illuminated the clandestine encounter, casting shadows on their faces as they stood intimately close. The soft rustle of leaves seemed to betray their secret to the night.
Returning to her senses and even worse, realizing the potential scandal unfolding, Phyllis hurriedly approached, seizing Joyce forcefully by the arm and pulling her away from the man who risked tainting her reputation for a few moments of intimacy, but Joyce remained firmly planted in the same place.
“What on earth were you thinking!?” Phyllis hissed angrily, fully aware of the repercussions of such an indiscretion.
“Miss St. Clair, I take full responsibility for this… I followed her outside when she said that she was feeling lightheaded. I couldn’t allow her to be out here all alone,” the viscount started apologizing for them both, but Phyllis cut him off with just one furious glance.
“Do you think she is safer with you?” Phyllis snapped, ready to rain a shower of angry words upon him, but a sudden noise startled them all.
A gasp was heard somewhere behind them, and Phyllis knew that all was lost. She had spent the precious few moments arguing with the viscount, instead of pulling Joyce back inside unseen. That gasp was followed by murmurs, and Phyllis didn’t need to turn around to know what they meant. Instead, she swallowed her words, attempting to guide her sister away from the scene, but she knew deep down that it was already too late. For she had heard rustling behind her and soft whispers, which could mean only one thing. She was not the only one who had seen them in this compromising position.
Joyce, caught off guard, stammered in an attempt to offer an explanation, but Phyllis would not hear it. Fueled by a mix of protective instinct and the knowledge that such behavior could harm not only her sister’s reputation, but also their family’s, she led her sister back inside, away from the hushed whispers and the judgmental gazes of onlookers.
“But we didn’t do anything,” Joyce replied with all the naivety she possessed.
