by Joan Smith
They rose, and she went into his arms. He held her much more closely than fashion decreed, with both arms around her waist, while she rested her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed, reveling in her newfound happiness.
Mrs. Newbold eventually noticed that Alice was missing from the ballroom and went to look for her.” She saw the door of the saloon was ajar, and opened it to see if the servants had tidied up yet. She saw Alice and Griffin moving in slow circles, with such beatific smiles on their faces that she hesitated to interrupt them.
When had that sly puss nabbed Griffin? Mrs. Newbold had no objection to the match; Griffin was well to grass, but how would Myra take it? Ah well, the pair of them would be sheering off to Africa or Peru, very likely, and would not disturb the duchess.
She quietly closed the door and spoke to the butler. “Don't let anyone go into the saloon. The servants have not tidied up yet. It is all at sixes and sevens."
And smelling like April and May, she added to herself. Another wedding to prepare. A mother's work was never done. Yet it would be done once Alice married Griffin. She felt a premonition of loss, until she remembered the fixture heirs to Dunsmore and Mersham she would soon be dandling on her knee. Then she bustled happily back to the ballroom.
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