Chapter 220: v2- - 39: the fifth test II

"May I have the honor of this dance?"

Marian’s smile remained.

She wasn’t worried.

Not yet.

Her gaze moved to Adrian.

He would decline.

She was certain of it.

After all, she was standing beside him.

He knew how many times he had danced with Lady Rosemont already.

Twice.

The first had been at the opening ball.

The second had been at the reception that followed.

And Adrian knew exactly how the court had interpreted both occasions.

Another dance tonight would only give them more to talk about.

Marian waited.

She even found herself smiling faintly.

Perhaps he would simply refuse with the same calm courtesy he used whenever someone asked something he had no intention of granting.

Adrian looked at Ophelia.

Then at Marian.

Their eyes met.

For one brief moment, Marian thought she saw something in his expression that reassured her.

She relaxed.

Then Adrian turned back toward Lady Rosemont.

"Of course."

The words were quiet.

Marian’s smile disappeared.

For a second, she simply stood there.

She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.

He knew.

That was the first thought that came to her.

He knew she was standing beside him.

He knew what the court had been saying.

He knew what had happened between them since the opening ball.

He knew she had chosen him.

He knew she had come to him when he had asked her to.

He knew how much his attention affected her.

And still, when Lady Rosemont asked him to dance, he accepted.

Marian stared at his hand as he extended it toward Ophelia.

Something cold settled beneath her ribs.

Then Adrian and Ophelia turned toward the dance floor.

Marian remained where she was.

For several seconds, she couldn’t move.

She simply watched them walk away.

Only when they reached the other couples did she finally breathe.

It was only a dance.

She knew that.

There was nothing improper about it.

Adrian was the Emperor.

Lady Rosemont was a respectable young woman from a prominent family.

He could dance with whoever he wished.

And Marian had no claim over him.

That was the truth.

She had simply forgotten it.

The music began.

Marian watched Adrian take Ophelia’s hand.

His other hand settled lightly at her waist.

They moved together with the effortless grace expected of them.

Marian looked away.

Then, against her better judgment, looked back.

She couldn’t stop herself.

She watched another turn.

Another step.

Another moment in which Adrian’s attention remained on the woman in his arms.

And slowly, painfully, the questions began.

Perhaps she had misunderstood everything.

Perhaps all those moments between them had meant something different to him.

The night in the garden.

His jealousy.

The way he had come after her.

The way he had asked her to tell him she was his.

She had taken each of those things as evidence.

As reassurance.

As proof that whatever remained between them was real.

But what had Adrian actually promised her?

Nothing.

He had told her that things between them had changed.

She remembered his words from that morning.

Last night changes what happened between us.

At the time, Marian had held on to them.

She had believed they meant that something new had begun.

But he had also told her that last night did not erase what had happened before.

She had understood that too.

Their history remained.

The years they had spent apart.

The choices they had made.

The hurt that had never entirely disappeared.

None of that could simply vanish because they had found their way back into each other’s arms.

But Marian had thought what came afterward would mean something.

She had thought his jealousy meant something.

His coming after her.

His asking her to prove that she had chosen him.

The way he had wanted her.

She had taken all of it as reassurance.

And perhaps that had been her mistake.

Because Adrian had never actually promised her anything.

He had never said that he loved her.

He had never asked her to marry him.

He had never told her that she was the only woman he wanted.

He had never even promised her anything.

Everything she had been holding on to had been built from his actions.

And perhaps she had simply interpreted them the way she wanted to.

Marian watched Ophelia smile at something Adrian said.

Her chest tightened.

Perhaps Adrian had never been as certain about her as she had been about him.

Perhaps he had simply been indulging an old attachment.

A familiar affection.

Something complicated that had returned when she came back into his life.

Something he desired, but had never intended to turn into anything more.

Her throat tightened.

Or perhaps—

perhaps Lady Rosemont had always been the woman he truly wanted.

The thought hurt so sharply that Marian almost lost her breath.

She had been so certain.

She had stood beside him tonight wearing his gifts, believing she was finally allowing herself to love him again.

She had dressed for him.

She had wanted him to see her.

She had allowed herself to feel happy when he did.

And now she couldn’t even be certain that he had ever wanted her in the same way.

Marian looked at Adrian.

He didn’t look uncertain.

He simply danced.

And that was somehow worse.

She lowered her eyes.

The whispers around her began to reach her.

"She asked him herself."

"I suppose she was rather confident."

"Why wouldn’t she be? His Majesty has danced with her twice already."

A quiet laugh.

"And now a third time."

Marian’s fingers tightened around her fan.

Another voice murmured:

"Perhaps Lady Valmont misunderstood the Emperor’s intentions."

"She certainly seemed very comfortable beside him."

"Perhaps she shouldn’t have been."

The words were followed by restrained laughter.

Marian kept her face still.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck.

She wanted to leave.

But leaving would confirm everything they were saying.

So she remained where she was.

Standing exactly where Adrian had left her.

Alone.

Only minutes ago, she had been standing beside him, smiling as though she belonged there.

Now she wasn’t even certain she belonged in the room.

Her gaze drifted back toward the dance floor.

Adrian turned.

For one brief moment, his eyes found hers.

Marian’s heart gave a painful little jump.

He had seen her.

He had to see her.

She wondered whether he could tell.

Whether he could see the hurt she was trying so desperately to conceal.

Their eyes remained locked for a heartbeat.

Marian looked away first.

She couldn’t bear it.

She pressed her lips together.

The tears were coming.

She knew it.

Not because she wanted them to.

Because she could no longer seem to stop them.

She blinked rapidly.

Once.

Twice.

Her eyes burned.

Not here.

She drew a slow breath.

Please, not here.

She had spent the entire evening feeling happy.

That was what made this so much worse.

She had come here believing she was finally beginning to understand him.

She had believed that the strange, complicated thing between them had become something she could trust.

She had allowed herself to hope.

And now, standing alone while he danced with Lady Rosemont, she wondered whether she had simply been foolish enough to believe what she wanted to believe.

Her vision blurred.

She blinked again.

A tear escaped.

It slipped slowly down her cheek before she could stop it.

Marian froze.

She turned her face slightly away and lifted her fan, hoping no one had noticed.

But the crowd shifted around her.

Someone passed behind her.

Another conversation rose nearby.

And then, through the movement of people, someone stepped into the space beside her.

A white handkerchief appeared before her.

Marian stared at it.

For a moment, she didn’t understand.

Then she looked up.

Julian stood beside her.

He didn’t say anything.

He simply held out the handkerchief.

Marian looked at him.

Then at the small square of white cloth in his hand.

Her eyes stung again.

She accepted it.

Her fingers brushed his as she took it.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Julian gave her a quiet nod.

His gaze flickered briefly toward the dance floor.

Then returned to her.

He didn’t ask questions.

He didn’t offer empty reassurances.

He simply remained beside her for a moment.

Then he extended his hand.

Marian looked at it.

The gesture was gentle.

An invitation.

Perhaps he meant to lead her away from the watching crowd.

Perhaps he simply didn’t want her to have to walk out alone.

For one heartbeat, Marian considered taking it.

Then she thought of the rumors.

She couldn’t involve him in this.

So she shook her head very slightly.

Her eyes met his.

And she smiled.

It was a small, tearful smile.

Grateful.

Apologetic.

A smile that said she understood what he was offering, even if she couldn’t accept it.

Julian lowered his hand.

Marian closed her fingers around the handkerchief.

She looked down at it for a moment.

Then turned toward the doors.

Behind her, the music continued.

And across the ballroom, Adrian was still dancing with Lady Rosemont.

Marian did not look back.

--

Tbc