The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,111
on the moment she went downstairs.
She looked beautiful, then, with pearls in her ears—her mother’s gift—a diamond hair comb from Gaétan, and her emerald ring upon her finger. She was the princess in storybooks, the embodiment of every girlish fantasy she’d ever had.
She felt, however, as if she were drowning, thrashing her legs in a futile attempt to remain afloat. She reproached herself for this—she had no business feeling like that when she should be laughing.
The door to the room opened, and Madelena peeked her head inside. “Nina? The guests are starting to arrive. Luc needs you downstairs with him to receive them.”
It was supposed to be a small party, but the guest list kept growing and it had been quickly decided—Gaétan and Valérie were doing the planning—it must be hosted at Gaétan’s home since they needed to accommodate Luc’s parents, his brothers and their wives, and a number of friends and associates whose names Nina did not recognize but who were deemed essential. A newspaper writer and a photographer from The Courier were even in attendance, to report on the event and take a picture of the groom- and bride-to-be. Gaétan had told her this gathering would be the golden brooch that would close the Grand Season.
“The costume ball of the Sertis’ won’t have that honor this year,” her cousin opined, and though Nina had tried to tell them she would have preferred an intimate gathering, Luc sided with Gaétan and Valérie. A larger party it was.
“How nice you look,” Madelena said, walking in and setting her hands on Nina’s shoulders. “Are you ready?”
Nina had been ready for nearly half an hour. She had arrived early with her great-aunts and rushed upstairs to one of Gaétan’s guest rooms to change. The lady’s maid had helped her into her dress, fussed with her hair, and Nina had spent many minutes staring at her reflection.
“One more minute.”
“Luc will be beside himself when he sees you. And Mother is incredibly proud.”
“I’m sure,” Nina muttered.
Everyone was gushing with praise for Luc. He looked incredibly fine! His family was well connected!
“Such a nice match,” her sister said.
“Yes,” Nina replied, standing up. There could be no more dallying.
When Nina entered the ballroom, Luc hurried to her side and took her arm, kissing her on the cheek. They stood like that together, smiling as the guests streamed in, costly flowers arranged behind them for best effect. She had difficulty placing names and faces, but Luc knew everyone and could recall a detail about each person. Nina had to extend her hand many times to show off her ring and intone its provenance. Duveras, naturally, Luc would say, and Nina smiled.
Luc looked more than handsome, nearly perfect. He wore a black jacket and a blue watered-silk waistcoat, lavishly embroidered. He also wore a proud expression, his blond head raised high. And why shouldn’t he be proud? Nina could see flashes of admiration, even jealousy, in the attendees’ eyes, and for once the ladies and gentlemen whispering to each other were not pointing out something Nina had done wrong, but everything she’d done right.
No longer the Witch of Oldhouse, she was to be Antonina Lémy, the name as valuable as the precious stone on her ring. To think once we thought she’d marry an entertainer, the people whispered. Look at her now!
After the bulk of the guests had arrived, they set to walking around the room, milling with strangers. Nina wanted to dance. When she’d pictured this moment as a girl—and she’d pictured it often, the whirlwind romance, the engagement party with exquisite music and distinguished guests—she’d focused on the dance.
“Not now,” Luc told her. “We must speak to a number of people.”
“We have already spoken to a number of people as they arrived,” she replied.
“Nina, no one dances at their engagement party.”
Having learned most of the things she knew from books, she did not recall this detail. In her romances, in her imagination, there had been dancing.
Nina stared at Luc, but he smiled and dragged her to talk to another couple, then another. Luc knew exactly what he wanted to say to each person and monopolized every conversation, steering it in the direction of his choice. She was left standing silently at his side.
She had a panicked feeling, as if splinters were digging into the palms of her hands. She wanted to draw herself into a corner and take a deep breath, but there was a terrible amount of activity, dozens of people smiling at her. She