“Marvelous,” said Lord Conteville and he swept forward to greet Marceline, planting sloppy, wine-soaked kisses on each cheek. “Simply captivating, my dear. I daresay you have caught the eye of every eligible man here. And some ineligible, I might add.” He chortled at his own little joke, while Marceline watched, smiling politely, though, privately, she could not say she was as pleased as her great uncle was. She was there, after all, enjoying the attentions of the great and the good of Nar as a result of her mother’s careful social maneuvering, not through any real desire of her own.
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