Of Fate And Prejudice

Chapter Eleven

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains mentions of sexual assault.

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Frances would have turned down the marquess's request to dance if she hadn't been compelled by propriety to accept. There was something about the marquess she didn't like, and as she stood clinging to Roman, with the muscle in his arm bulging under her grip, she knew Roman felt the same way about the marquess as she did.

Soon after the marquess filled her dance card, they were joined by his mother. The Duchess of Suffolk, a woman who appeared to be nearing sixty, exuded elegance. It was easy to tell just how wealthy she was by a mere glance at the quality of her green satin dress. Her straight silver hair, piled to the top of her head, was held in place by four matching silver pins with green gemstones, and on her neck was a breathtaking diamond necklace.

Despite her obvious opulence, the duchess was welcoming. Her warm smile made Frances relax her grip on Roman's arm, and when she learned Frances was new to England and offered to show her around the room, Frances did not hesitate to go with her. She introduced Frances to several guests, and within only a few minutes of being at the ball, Frances' dance card was filled.

Once the duchess was done making the rounds, welcoming her guests and making introductions, the dance began. Frances was escorted to the dance floor by the first man on her card. An earl. Frances guessed his age to be early thirties. He was handsome with straight black hair that matched his dark suit, and an ego way taller than his six feet. The dandy appeared incapable of speaking about nothing else but himself for the duration of the dance. When the dance ended, Frances breathed a sigh of relief.

Soon after, the second dance began, and her second partner was not any better. Perhaps he didn't speak as much about himself as the first. Yet, he spoke about everything—politics, theology, philosophy. He gave her no room to respond.

Frances endured the third and fourth dances with two other gentlemen until she was certain she couldn't take anymore of it. There was no use trying to find a husband in a room full of conceited men she could barely stand.

She swept her gaze across the ballroom in search of Roman. She hadn't seen him since the duchess offered to show her around. Now that she was of a determined mind to go home, she needed to him to escort her. But he was nowhere in sight. She made to go in search of him, when the marquess waylaid her.

"Miss Frances." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "How nice to run into you again."

"Indeed, it is." She forced a smile to her lips as she fought the urge to pull away. Something about him made her feel uncomfortable.

"I hope you're not leaving? It's time for me to claim that dance." He didn't wait for her response before herding her to the dance floor.

Frances was amazed to find how good a dancer the marquess was. He guided her through the dance floor with the skills of a professional, yet he possessed the gentility and patience of a dance tutor. Not only was he an excellent dancer, he was a good conversationalist. He spoke, and he listened, and even managed to make her laugh.

She thought she'd been wrong to feel uncomfortable about the marquess, for when the dance finally ended, she was positively lighter.

"You're a wonderful dancer, Miss Frances," he complimented as he escorted her off the dancefloor.

"Thank you, my lord. I learned from the best." She smiled at the thought of Roman. He'd spent several hours teaching her to dance, and she'd enjoyed every second of those hours. Perhaps she'd enjoyed them too much. Within the last three weeks of her being in London, she'd delighted in nothing more than dancing with him and had gone through each day looking forward to their dance lessons.