Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

A ndrew had to admit, he overstepped. Yet, watching Marianne stomping away, he could not feel too bad. How can one resist the temptation of teasing one so easily vexed? It was her fault really…

Lost in his thoughts, Andrew was only jolted back to reality when his uncle's persistent voice cut through the quiet. He looked up to see James Scriven marching towards him, his figure less imposing than incessantly present, flanked by his twin daughters, Rose and Ruth.

"Andrew, there you are!" he boomed, his voice carrying across the crowded space. "We need to have a word, privately."

Andrew forced a polite smile, though his stomach churned with apprehension. "Of course, Uncle James," he replied, striving to maintain a jovial tone. "What can I do for you?"

James's eyes flickered with a calculating glint as he leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's time we discussed your future, Andrew," he said. "With your sister now married, it is time to see to your own family, is it not? Our family's reputation depends on it."

Andrew rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed by James's insistence, the weight of his words more an irritating burden than a serious concern. "I understand, Uncle," he murmured, struggling to keep his composure. "But I must insist?—"

Before Andrew could articulate his thoughts, James, ever oblivious to decorum, raised his hand, not so much to silence but to hurriedly interject, his tone more insistent than authoritative. "Hold on, Andrew," he said, a hint of exasperation lacing his words. "Let's not argue about this here. You know how these things are done."

"How about we do not have this discussion today at all? We are here to celebrate Harriet, so let's do just that."

James turned to his daughters and waved his hand. "Girls, why don't you go and mingle with the other guests?"

Rose and Ruth exchanged a quick glance before nodding obediently, their expressions carefully schooled into masks of politeness.

"Of course, Father," Rose replied, her voice sweet and saccharine. "We'll see you later, Your Grace."

Andrew felt a twinge of frustration at the role he played in his cousins' lives. Rose and Ruth deserved more than to be mere extensions of their father's ambitions.

Turning back to James, Andrew squared his shoulders, ready to navigate the complexities of the impending discussion.

Andrew knew his uncle to be a stubborn man, but he could match him. The problem was that he did not particularly enjoy disheartening his family and James had a way to bet on that. Usually, Andrew let it slide. It did not matter to him to let his uncle have what he wanted now and then.

In situations like these, however, that came back to haunt him.

"Andrew, my boy, congratulations on your sister's nuptials. She looks positively radiant, does she not?"

Andrew inclined his head respectfully, a flicker of pride stirring within him at the sight of Harriet's happiness. "Indeed, Uncle James," he replied, matching his polished tone, "but that is not what you took me aside to talk to me about, is it?"

As Harriet and her groom glided past them in a graceful waltz, their laughter mingling with the strains of a string quartet, James's eyes sparkled with pride.

"Such a lovely sight," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his tone. "It warms the heart to see our dear Harriet so blissfully happy."

He felt his annoyance pique. For him to be this avoidant, his uncle wanted one of two things: a favor or money.

James's eyes gleamed with a shrewd intensity as he studied Andrew, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. "Ah, weddings," he mused, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Reminds me of my own nuptials many years ago. But enough about me. Let's talk about you, Andrew."

"What about me, uncle?" his tone was tired.

"It is time you married too, my boy. You are not going to be young forever. At eight and twenty I was almost a father."

"And in good time, I will be too. But for now, I think I will enjoy my freedom a bit more."

"What freedom? Gallivanting here and there with the pressing thought of duty hanging over your head? Get married, have an heir and then do as you like…"

"I am not going to do that and you know it."

"And why not? Are the ways of the men before you too low for such a gentleman as yourself? Look, Andrew, I have a proposition"

Andrew palmed his face to gain a moment of reprieve. Now, to the truth of the matter…

"You've been a bachelor for quite some time now, and it's high time you thought about the future. Not just your own, but that of our family. Rose and Ruth are coming out, and their prospects, their happiness… it's all interconnected, you understand?" he murmured, his words heavy with implication. "Your sister has found her match, and now it's your turn."

"I appreciate your concern, Uncle James, but will not —"

But Andrew's protestations fell on deaf ears as James forged ahead, his gaze flicking to his daughters, who hovered nearby, their discomfort palpable.

"You see, Andrew, I've had my eye on two young ladies who would make excellent matches for you," he continued, his tone growing increasingly insistent. "And I think it's high time you made your intentions known. We'll announce it at the end of the wedding breakfast, mark my words."

Andrew's frustration reached a boiling point as James's words washed over him like a tidal wave. His uncle was not merely suggesting that he consider marriage, but he was demanding it in no uncertain terms.

"Uncle James, that will not happen—" Andrew began, but James's patience had worn thin, his frustration evident in the steely glint in his eyes.

"Come now, Andrew," James said almost pleading. "You know it's for the best."

As James disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind a trail of discomfort and unresolved tension, Andrew felt a surge of frustration welling up inside him. He had sidestepped the real issue and thankfully left it ambiguous. But Andrew knew what his uncle was after, even if it pained him to even think it. Determined to avoid the issue altogether, he looked for a distraction.

Turning to the crowd, he caught sight of Lady Marianne slipping out of the bustling ballroom. There it was, a distraction and a chance to set something right. Not something that happens every day, that.

"Lady Marianne!" he called out, hoping to catch her attention amid the melodic strains of the musicians.

But before he could close the distance between them, a familiar face intercepted his path, halting his progress with a genial smile and a hearty handshake. It was Lord Ashcroft, a longstanding acquaintance whose jovial demeanor belied his formidable presence in London's social circles.

"Your Grace, splendid to see you," Lord Ashcroft boomed, his voice carrying above the lilting strains of the musicians. "How fares the family? Your sister's wedding has been the talk of the town, I must say."

Forced to divert his attention from Marianne's retreating form, Andrew returned Lord Ashcroft's greeting with practiced civility, exchanging pleasantries and inquiries about mutual acquaintances. Yet, beneath the surface, impatience gnawed at him, urging him to resume his pursuit.

"I'm afraid I must beg your pardon, Lord Ashcroft," Andrew interjected, his tone apologetic yet firm. "I fear I'm in pursuit of someone quite urgently. If you'll excuse me?"

With a courteous nod, Lord Ashcroft graciously stepped aside, allowing Andrew to press on through the crowd in search of Marianne. However, as Andrew extricated himself from his amiable company and resumed his course, precious moments had already slipped away, and Marianne had vanished from view once more.

A surge of frustration welled within him, mingled with a pang of regret for allowing himself to be detained. The ballroom continued to buzz with animated conversations and the soft rustle of silk, but amidst the splendor and revelry, he felt a keen sense of disquiet.

He stood amidst the swirling crowd, uncertainty clouding his thoughts, when a maid approached him. Her shoulders were tense and her step hurried, although she tried not to let it show.

"Your Grace, Lady Groverton is seeking your presence," she informed him, her tone urgent.

"Of course," Andrew replied, offering her a grateful smile. "Thank you for relaying her message. Please, lead the way."

With renewed resolve, Andrew followed the woman, navigating through the maze of dancers and socialites until he reached Harriet's side.