Miss Ramsey was completely sloshed.

She let out a shriek of laughter, made to sit and missed her chair, falling to the ground with a dramatic spiral of arms and hoop skirts, the others at the dinner party – whose drunken states weren't far behind – roaring with laughter.

She let out an unladylike howl of despair and Mr. Goddard came to her rescue, his gallant actions overshadowed by the fact that he used the excuse to feel her bust – which was greatly exaggerated by her mercilessly tight corset, so possibly he hadn't meant to fondle her and simply didn't have anywhere else to grab.

Her new dress certainly made her... ample.

The scene just received another barrage of laughter and more champagne was poured.

Marie-Fey held a delicate have over her glass to indicate she didn't need a top-up from the passing servants.

"Oh, come on, Fey!" one of the men shouted across the sweeping dining room table, "You can't be finished already! You're barely even tipsy!"

"Married life has changed her hideously!" cried one of the ladies with a dramatic sigh, "No more fun for our Marie-Fey Leigh!"

"I bet she has all the fun she can handle back into that exotic land she calls home now," another lady sneered.

Marie-Fey's cool blue eyes rose to meet Lady Lashby who was trying her damndest to give her a condescending look over her pig nose.

"Oh yes! Tell us, Fey!" some of the leering gentlemen cheered, "regale us with tales of your dessert land! Come on, share! We want to hear all about those harems! What do you wear when back home? Those illustrations in all the books would suggest you'd look ravishing."

"Any lady would look ravishing when there's no article of clothing to stop of man ravishing her!" someone jeered, and the table roared with laughter.

"Are you suggesting I am not ravishing to look at in the finery I wear tonight?" Marie-Fey asked calmly, long slender fingers drifting across her chest, just under her collar bone to play with the spectacular diamond necklace she wore, drawing all eyes on the table to that single location which was hemmed by the handstitched lace of her dress's low neckline.

"No, no, of course not. Who in this wide world does not consider the Leigh Ladies the finest in the land?" the man corrected as he tried to drag his eyes back to her face.

"Her husband, apparently," Lady Lashby put in, "Tell us, Marie-Fey. Have you had the pleasure of his company yet?"

"Hah, what's a man need to bother his wife for when he has a building full of beauty's throwing themselves at his feet?"

Marie-Fey sighed.

"Marie, Marie," someone else called, "Do you own a peacock? Or ride camels!"

"How about some dancing?' Marie-Fey called instead and the entire table erupted in agreement, launching from their seats to tumble into the dance room where the musicians scrambled to get their instruments ready as the gallery of drunkards fell into a reel... or at least something that resembled a reel.

Marie-Fey rose from her seat, throwing back the last of her champagne and gliding into the room to watch.

How was it that just a couple of years ago she would have been one these people, delighting in endlessly flowing drinks and wild company?

She missed those days.

Maybe it was nothing but knowing she'd be returning home that was leaving her in a state of melancholy.

She's been a misery all night - though she did get tired of explaining that her home was not a palace full of pleasure slaves. The point was never driven home however, far more interesting imagining scandalous, scantily-clad scoundrels who had no morals.

Looking away from the dancers – and sweeping her gown out of the way without a second thought to avoid it being trodden on by an overly enthusiastic couple who seemed to have lost the dancefloor in the midst of their waltzing - Marie-Fey looked around for her brother.

Constantine was nowhere to be seen, and frankly she hadn't seen him since the seventh bottle of wine.

She hadn't seen the new Mrs. Smithson either.

Her gaze travelled towards the stairs that led to the upper floors of the townhouse.

"And they think my life is scandalous," she muttered in annoyance.

And arm slipped through hers and she looked around to see Miss Sophia Denby. Marie-Fey smiled at her, gripping her hand.

"You've had a dark cloud over you all night," Sophia said softly, her pretty hazel eyes eyeing her with that cutting observation Marie-Fey had always marvelled at.

Marie-Fey just smiled again. "Travelling stress must already be getting to me," she said.

"That concerned about returning, huh?" Sophia said with a knowing grin.

"Shh, Lashby might hear you," Marie-Fey said, though she grinned in reply.

"Pah, that undercooked macaroon can sneer all she likes. She's simply jealous that you married into so much more money than her and everyone knows it," Sophia said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "So when do you leave?"

"We travel for the coast tomorrow morning and set sail the morning after," Marie-Fey said.

Sophia let out a breath and hugged her arm, resting her head on her shoulder, watching the dancers. "I do hope it's not too long before you return to us again."

"I'm sure I'll be back within the next year."

Sophia was quiet for a moment, then straightened, gripped Marie-Fey's shoulders and turned her around so they were facing each other, Sophia giving her at sternest expression Marie-Fey had ever seen on her best friend's face.

"Will you be alright?" she asked, seriously.

Marie-Fey stared at her. "Of course," she said.

"And you will continue to write to me?" Sophia continued, "however vicious they get."

Maire-Fey's smile softened slightly. "No worse than the ladies of court."

"No worse," Sophia agreed before hugging her tightly. "I can't believe it's two years, I still miss you like it's the first month."

Marie-Fey hugged her back tightly.

"And please try and come to my wedding. I need my maid-of-honour."

That made her laugh as they drew apart. "Of course. You know I'll come back. Now, speaking of weddings, I think your fiancé is missing you. Go dance."

"Come join us."

Marie-Fey just shook her head. "Not this time," she said and pushed Sophia away to the dance floor where, after a moment, she lifted her skirts and swept across the room and into the arms of her fiancé.

Marie-Fey folded her arms, watching the dancers, feeling that wall slowing going up between them as it always did when she was preparing to travel so far away, her fingers playing absently with the diamonds of her necklace.

The butler appeared at her side.

"Your carriage is ready, M'Lady," he said with a bow.

Marie-Fey looked blankly at him.

"The young Master Constantine predicted that you may wish to leave by the time the dancing started and that we were to have a carriage ready. I can send it away again."

Marie-Fey glanced towards the stairs, then chuckled.

"Excellent timing, Dickson," she said and swept away to throw on her cape. "You'll make my excuses to our hostess, of course."

"Of course," Dickson said with a bow as he walked her to the door. "Goodnight, M'Lady."

Marie-Fey glided down the steps of the townhouse and one of the footmen helped her into the carriage, closing the door behind her before they took off to return to the family home.

~~~~~

It was well past two in the morning by the time Marie-Fey walked into the grand entrance hall of the family estate but the glow of a fire under the doors to one of the side rooms had her investigating to find her youngest brother still awake, draped over an armchair by a lively fire, a book in his lap.

In the armchair opposite sat her brother's partner, long legs crossed, temple resting on knuckled, silvery-blonde hair falling across closed eyes.

He was sleeping.

Marie-Fey wasn't sure she'd ever seen the man anything other than alert and wary in this house.

Beldon's golden head rose and his electric blue eyes turned on her.

He smiled in welcome, moving to stand but she waved a hand to still him, gesturing to Luka, not wanting to wake him.

Motioning her goodnight, she backed out of the room – though not before she saw Luka's vivid green eyes open – and shut the door behind her.

She handed her gloves and cape over to one of the maids who was waiting for her and made her silent way upstairs, listening,

Antoinette and her husband, who were visiting and staying at the family estate while Beldon and Marie-Fey were at home at the same time, either hadn't returned from their own party or were already asleep because the door to their apartments was closed and quiet.

Valentine had been attending the theatre with Miss Yumiko, a friend of Marie-Fey's younger sister, and she wasn't sure if he'd returned yet.

Their father was probably sound asleep.

Marie-Fey spied her younger sister as she passed the open door to Rosalia's apartments.

She and her husband, Luka's brother, were sat in their living room, Rosalia curled on Braydon's lap, eyes closed as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, their voices low as they spoke to each other, their laughter soft and whispering.

Marie-Fey resisted the urge to sound her exasperated disgust at all the happy couples she was surrounded by and went to her own rooms where her maids waited for her, quickly and silently changing her from her dinner gown and into sleeping garments, plaiting her hair, removing her makeup and leaving her alone with a cup of fresh hot chocolate at her bedside table.

She climbed under the fresh covers and lay back on the right-hand side of the huge bed, looking towards the window.

She could see out into one of the gardens from her room.

She hated that this would be the last night she'd see those gardens in who knew how long.

The next day she'd be boarding her ship to return 'home', as she was deemed to call it now.

Her visit felt much too short.

She had only been home a month

A mere month to enjoy some of the winter season with her family.

She closed her eyes, turning her head only to open them to look at the empty left-hand side of her bed.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, closing her eyes and turning onto her side, stretching her legs out across the bed so she took up all the space.