But it didn’t affect Colin. He pulled her to him with a strong arm and smiled down at her upturned face with a warmth so unguarded it nearly made him seem boyish.
Marian heart sang with delight even as she felt almost embarrassed watching them.
Then she accepted her tea and biscuit from Albert and they moved across the Hall toward Colin and Sibyl.
“Mrs. Byrne!” Sibyl cried and detached herself from Colin’s arm to give Marian a brief but strong embrace. “I’m so glad you came.”
Marian smiled dotingly on the pair.
It would take the force of more than one dark soul to cross these two, in that joyous moment, Marian felt sure of it.
Unfortunately, as her many-greats-Grandmother Esmeralda was nearly five hundred years before her, Marian didn’t know it, but she was terribly wrong.
Sibyl introduced everyone to Mrs. Griffith who, throughout this, did not drop Colin’s hand.
“Mrs. Griffith, what a delight,” Mags remarked after the introductions.
“Did you get my letters?” Mrs. Griffith barked to Sibyl’s mother, a severe tone that mildly surprised Marian but which made Mags grin.
But Sibyl started then stared at her mother. “Letters?”
“All six of them,” Mags assured the old lady, ignoring her daughter’s question.
“Did you get the letter about this one?” Mrs. Griffith queried abruptly, swinging her cane dangerously to indicate Colin, its unsteady arc coming so close to him he had to swiftly lean back to avoid it smashing into his jaw.
“I did indeed,” Mags replied.
“Mrs. Griffith, what did you do?” Sibyl turned her attention to the older woman.
“Well, I approved, of course. And not just because you’re both sickeningly good-looking.” Then she turned to confide in Colin, “You are remarkably handsome, my boy, but don’t let it go to your head. Nothing’s worse than a conceited man.” Colin’s lips twitched at her blunt advice as Mrs. Griffith turned back to Sibyl and stated, “His minibus tirade was too good not to share.”
Sibyl closed her eyes slowly and one could practically hear her mentally counting to ten. When she opened them, she glowered at her mother. “You could have said something.”
“Do I need to tell you everything?” Mags countered.
Marian noted that Colin seemed unaffected by all of this except, perhaps, to look mildly amused.
“Well, I approve too, Mrs. Griffith.” Scarlett threw in her lot. “He’s a shocking chauvinist and unrepentantly bourgeois but he’ll do.”
“That’s what I thought. Not about the chauvy-and-bourgie-whatsit, don’t know a thing about that, but he’ll do,” Mrs. Griffith agreed and then giggled like a schoolgirl.
Sibyl emitted a frustrated noise then announced, “I need to go backstage.”
At this, Mrs. Griffith announced, “And we need to find seats, the good ones are mostly taken, so…” she turned to Colin, “you might have to throw your weight around.” Then she shifted slowly, indicating her intent to move while proclaiming as if she was bestowing a great honour, “Now, you may escort me to our seats.”
“Lead the way,” Colin murmured politely but stopped and turned when Sibyl’s hand landed lightly on his arm and then she went up on her toes to touch her lips against his.
“I’ll see you after,” she whispered, he nodded and then allowed himself to be led away by the older woman as Sibyl disappeared between the sliding doors.
“Watching them, you almost feel like a voyeur and she’d barely kissed him,” Marian heard Bertie mutter to himself.
Marian didn’t respond for at that instant she felt an ice-cold thrill go down her spine and her head shot up.
“No,” she whispered, not wishing to believe it.
“What’s that?” Bertie asked, he had taken her by the elbow and was showing her to a seat.
She gently pulled her arm away, hid her concern and smiled at Sibyl’s father. “I need to see to something. I’ll only be away a moment.”