The crowd parted subtly as we entered, a practiced ripple of curiosity and protocol. Faces turned and champagne glasses lowered.
Near the centre of the room, by the marble hearth, stood Lord Elric Storm. His presence commanding even in his stillness. He was speaking to a cluster of men in tailored black, but his gaze shifted the moment we stepped into the light.
"Son," he said with a clipped nod, then turned to me. "Clara."
I dipped in a careful curtsey. "My Lord."
He took a step forward and offered a rare, approving smile. "You look the part, both of you."
I wasn't sure what that part was, but I accepted the compliment with a graceful tilt of my head.
Lord Storm clasped Darrell's shoulders briefly. "You've cleaned up well boy. Almost convinced me you enjoy this things."
Darrell's mouth twitched. "Let's not push our luck."
Then Lord Storm turned to me again, his eyes scanning the room before resting back on mine. This reception is tastefully balanced and not overdone."
"Thank you," I said feeling a swell of pride in my chest. "I wanted it to reflect both households."
"They'll be talking about it," he said.
Lady Storm approached then, sweeping towards us in her slate–grey gown dusted with pearl pins. Her posture, as always, was regal with effort.
"The florals were a clever touch," she said her eyes landing briefly on the hellebores tucked in my hair. "Subtle but thoughtful."
I bowed. "Thank you my lady."
"Don't thank me and what is with this bows–" she said. "We're family now."
Lord Storm gave an approving nod, " Indeed. It's now time to shake hands and smile. Every marriage is half ceremony and half diplomacy. Tonight is both."
Darren gave the barest sigh. "Very well."
Lady Storm turned towards the crowd, her voice lowering just enough for us to hear. "They're hear for you dear. So don't give them a reason to sneer make them all cheer."
Her eyes glinted. "Darrell is familiar with most of them, he'll guide you."
I nodded.
Darrell offered his arm again and together once more, we moved towards the storm.
The first few rounds were a blur of names with long titles and longer opinions.
"Baron Seamus," Darrell murmured before we approached. "Loves horses, hates new money. Don't mention anything published that doesn't praise his ranches and his gold mines."
"Noted."
I smiled, nodded, curtsied, exchanged pleasantries and vague compliments. A countess with sharp eyes praised the flower arrangements. A Viscount's wife inquired about the cocoa. A duchess in amethyst earrings glanced between Darrell and me and offered a too knowing smile.
Darrell stood steady at my side. Speaking just enough, never letting my hand go. There eyes were always on us, measuring and accessing.
I noticed Cerelith standing near the east wall, beneath an arch twined with jasmine and holly. A glass of something clear in her hand. Her expression full of the kind of mischief she saved for her daily routine chaos.
Next to her was a lady. Braided blonde hair twisted atop her head in elaborate coils. Her gown shimmered faintly like crushed pearls. She tilted her head to Darrell the moment she saw him, a slow smile blooming across her lips.
"Brother," Cerelith called sweetly, drawing closer to us.
"Clara," she added not quite looking at me. "There's someone you must meet."
I smiled, rehearsed and polite.
"This is Evelyn Harrow. I believe you met her while playing with Coral in those stinky muddy terrains."
Evelyn turned towards me. "Clara," she said her voice syrupy. "I hardly recognised you. You.....blossomed."
"I could say the same," I replied.
Her gaze slid past me like I wasn't there at all. "Darrell...."
"Lady Evelyn, I believe you've attended lessons of polite Society Courtesy," Darrell curtly said. "I also believe we're just strangers to each other. So address me as Lord, the next time our paths cross."
Cerelith mischievous grin fell and turned to a glare at poor Evelyn. A smile lit up my face. Victory does really taste sweet.
His eyes flicked back to me, " If you'll excuse us– my wife owes me a dance."
He took my hand and, without waiting for a reply, led me towards the dance floor.
I let out a laugh, "Quick escape."
"They're both annoying," he muttered.
"She just is a fan of yours, darling,"
He shot me a look, caught between exasperation and amusement. I wanted to swallow that word back badly.
"I... I'm..." I stammered.
"Flustered?" He asked.
"No," I lied. "Just hoping you're not going to leave me on the floor again. Are you?" I teased.
That stopped him.
He looked down at me, slower this time. Something unreadable softening in his face. "I shouldn't have. Am sorry."
The apology startled me more than I expected. For a beat I forgot how to step. Then the music swelled and we found the rhythm together.
He was quiet again but not cold. His hand rested at my waist, the other guiding me gently, easily, like we'd done this more than once.
"You look beautiful," he said, not looking at me directly. "The dress suits you. The colors. The room."
I blinked, "thank you."
"And the reception," he added. "You did quite an impressive job."
I laughed under my breath. "That....sounded almost like a compliment."
He looked down at me, eyes catching mine for just a moment longer than they should have.
"Then you're hearing it correctly."
And just like that, with soft strings playing around us and the gentry watching from the edges, I felt something shift again. Not loudly, not suddenly but deeply.
Something warmer than the room.