Alpha Knighton

Chapter 2

"Oh Maggie, you look absolutely breath taking." Lady Lilianna explained as Lady Margaret came through the receiving line just outside the entrance to the ballroom.

The sentiment must have been the truth because Lady Lilianna's brother, Viscount Marwood, who stood at his sister's side, could not seem to take his gaze from her.

Of course, Lady Margaret had grown accustomed to such during her last three seasons on the marriage mart. When she'd first come to London with her mother, they'd feared she'd fail miserably due to her lack of conventional beauty. Lady Lilianna for instance was the very epitome of an English rose, with golden blonde curls, eyes as blue as a fresh summer sky, and a petite frame.

Where's on the other hand Margaret had hair of such an odd color many debated on if it could truly be called red when it was in fact closer to the deep hues of the most robust wines. A few people even claimed it shinned with a purple hue in the rare occurrences that the sun shone down on it, a statant that Margaret and her mother denied vehemently. Her eyes were dark green, so dark that one would assume they were brown at first glance, and slanted ever so slightly up at the corners, giving her a faintly exotic look. Add in her too plump lips and her mother had thrown her hands up, declaring she looked more on par with an Opera singer then the daughter of an Earl.

And lord forbid you should mention her curves. Her mother had declared she was impossible to properly dress when she'd visited the modest for the first time three short years ago to begin readying her wardrobe for her debut season in London's marriage mart.

But after all of that, they'd both feared for nothing. Even after three years out, her dance card was always full, gentlemen called on her daily, and flowers were delivered constantly. After three years on the mart, she was still a smashing success, despite the fact that she had yet to marry. She'd been asked, dozens of times, but she'd chosen instead to wait for love.

And love, it seemed, was taking its damned sweet time.

"Good evening, Lily, you look spectacular as well." Margaret gushed, clasping her dearest friends' hands in her own as her mother moved down the receiving line to greet their hostess, Lord and Lady Marwood. "Will Lord Beverly be present this evening?"

Lilianna's cheeks grew flushed at the mention of the gentleman she was currently hoping would court her. "Mother said that he accepted the invitation, but we shall see." Her blue eyes flickered away, before growing large and snapping back to her friend. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, mother got an acceptance from the Duke of Knighton!"

"Oh my, that is news. He hasn't been in society before has?"

"Not that mother could recall, and as you know she has the memory of, well, her." The two-woman laughed softly at the small inside joke. "But yes, this will be his first season in society, I expect every match making mama to be hot on his heels. Do you think he's handsome? Oh, I feel he must be devilishly handsome."

"Margaret, do come along dear." Lady Hellewell called, drawing her daughter's attention, and nodding her head towards the doors to the ball room.

"Yes mother." Margaret mumbled, turning to her friend to buss her cheek affectionately before moving down the line to greet Lily's brother and parents.

In moments Margaret and her mother were in the ballroom, Gentlemen rushing over to mark their names on her dance card in the hopes of securing one of the coveted spots. Lady Hellewell preened under the attention her daughter received, as she had for the past three years.

After Margaret's first season her mother had almost had a fit when she learned her daughter had turned down not one, not two, but three marriage proposals. She'd been sure the success of her first season would not follow her into her second but had been pleasantly surprised when instead of being less popular Margaret seemed to gain notoriety.

Each season her legend seemed to grow, and people began to wonder, would any man be good enough to bring the lovely Lady Margaret to the alter?

Margaret hated all of it. She'd never wanted the amount of attention she'd began to collect. She'd come to London with such high hopes of finding love and living happily ever after, much like her parents had done. Instead, she'd yet to find a gentleman with whom she shared that special connection with. This season though, she was determined to be married by the end of it, there for her criteria for marriage had changed, love was no longer the only requirement. Now it was off the table, and she'd settle for contentment. She'd settle for a man who she could grow fond of, a man who'd made an exemplary husband and father.

She wanted a family, and by God she was going to have it.

As the night passed, Margaret found herself making a list in her mind of each Gentleman she danced or conversed with. A list of each man's attributes and down falls. For instance, she'd found that Mr. Livingston was an exceedingly accomplished dancer, gliding her across the dance floor with a grace few of her partners had. But Mr. Livingston was also a terrible gossip and a bit of a peacock if his salmon pink overcoat and blue vest were any indication.

"I'd heard that the Duke of Knighton was going to be present this evening, I have yet to make his acquaintance." Mr. Livingston had confined while he escorted her back to her mother, as propriety demanded. "Have you met the allusive duke?"

"I cannot say that I have." Margaret mumbled, beginning to feel the slightest twinge of annoyance at everyone's constant inquiries into the mysterious lord, it was no wonder he hid himself away from London society when they functioned as if they had never seen a man with a title before.

"How was the dance, dear?" Her mother asked with a bright smile as Mr. Livingston delivered her safely to her mother's side.

"It was magnificent, Mr. Livingston is by far one of the most graceful partners I have had the pleasure of dancing with." The Gentlemen in question positively preened under the praise, while Margaret noted a few of her other suitors turned narrowed eyes on the young sir.

"Lady Margaret, I do believe I have the next set." Lord Bexley interjected with a deep bow, presenting his arm for her to take so he could lead her towards the dance floor.

"We have a moment before the next dance is to begin, I believe I need a refreshment if I am to galivant around again so soon." Margaret's voice was soft, her tone sweet, as she always kept it, as she looked pointedly at Lord Bexley.

"Oh yes, of course, let me get you a glass of wine."

"I'd prefer Lemonade, if you'd be so kind."

"I will return shortly." With another deep bow, Bexley turned on his heel and cut through the crowd in the direction of the refreshment table.

"Lady Margaret, would you mind a private word?" Lily's voice sounded to Margaret's left, offering her a thankful exit.

"If you'll excuse me gentlemen, I'll be back shortly, I'm sure." Dipping a curtsy, she excused herself from her court and turned to wrap her arm through her dear friends while they circulated the room. "Thank you for that."

"Just call me Sir Lilianna, for surly I've gained my knighthood by rescuing a fair damsel from her avalanche of suitors." Lily grinned, turning towards the terrace doors and the cool air the balcony beyond them would provide. "Mr. Livingston seemed like an accomplished dance."

"He is, though he is a bit bright for me."

"I have to agree, that coat is atrocious if I do say so myself." The wrinkle of Lily's noes portrayed her disgust at Mr. Livingston's choice of dress.

"I feel I must agree." Margaret giggled, anticipating their temporary escape from the crowded ball room. Though the closer she got to the terrace doors, the warmer she seemed to become. Odd, but the cool air coming in from the night should have cooled her skin, not warmed her. Just as she was going to mention the phenomenon to her dearest friend, Lily let out a deep sigh and halted in her escape.

"I see mother waving me over; I assume my next partner has come to claim his dance. I'll find you after." With that Lily was rushing back towards her mother and Margaret glanced longingly at the terrace doors, escape had been just feet away.

Well, she did not have to get back at that moment, and a short jot around the terrace would not be unseemly. And that was all the encouragement she needed. Sweeping out onto the terrace she breathed in the cool night air, curious as to why she'd felt warmer the closer she'd gotten when the night was crisp and welcoming.

That was when she heard a sound that both simultaneously frightened and thrilled her. A deep growl from the shadows behind her, the sound could barely be called a word, but she understood it well enough none the less.

"Mine."