to be the centerpiece of tonight’s ceremony.
I knew I didn’t have a lot of time before I would be expected to choose a belle, so I studied each one as quickly as I could. The poor things were terrified—I could see it in their eyes or their quivering lips. I couldn’t blame them, and frankly, I had the upper hand because I knew exactly what was coming next. These unfortunate souls had no idea.
They thought they were about to have a chance of achieving their biggest dream, when in fact they were about to engage in their worst nightmare. Or at least… for the belle I chose.
And then I saw her.
I knew right away who I would choose and the reason behind it.
Red hair. My own personal fire that I so loved to play with. Red. I had a type, and my type was her. I was a sucker for a redheaded beauty, and since she was the only belle who had such a feature… she would be mine.
“Display the belles,” the Elder demanded with a beat of the cane.
Another Elder began the procession of the belles by leading their single-file line through the ballroom. He walked them in front of the cloaked Elders first as a sign of respect, then the members, and then to us. They repeated the act three times, circling the room in an odd repetition symbolic to me of the never-ending madness of these rituals. Over and over, we conducted the same one.
I had only attended three and wondered how the members felt witnessing the exact same displaying of the belles like a broken record. Over and over again.
I tried to steal a glance of my father to see if I could read his thoughts. Was he bored? He was a lot like me—or I was a lot like him. His patience was always thin, and when he wanted something completed, he wanted it yesterday. Time was precious for the Radcliffes. We didn’t have a lot of it to spare, and yet, he never once missed a member event. He attended as a dutiful man would. Maybe he felt each Trial was worth his time, and I just hoped I felt the same.
When the woman with the red hair passed me, I wanted to reach out and just take her by the arm, announcing I had chosen, so we could move on with the night. I could speed this entire process up if they allowed it… which I knew they wouldn’t allow, so I behaved as hard as it was.
I knew each belle came from a difficult situation. Which was a nice way of saying they were poor. They needed to be chosen almost as much as they needed to breathe. But the belle with the red hair and in a teal-colored dress appeared to not need anyone at all. She held her head high, her shoulders back, and she could have easily passed for the most sophisticated and groomed socialite in Darlington County.
I could easily see her on my arm at cocktail parties interacting with the rich and powerful and being able to hold her own. She clearly knew how to act the part.
“Beau Radcliffe,” the Elder boomed, breaking me from my thoughts. “It is time for you to choose the belle.”
The Elder who had been leading the procession of belles walked over to where I stood and opened his palm. I knew he held a black satin ribbon without even looking down.
Taking the ribbon, I was more than ready to get this party moving. My need to act more efficiently caused me to feel itchy and anxious. I clearly was not a man meant for ritual.
I then walked up to the line of women and began what was called “the touching of the pearls”. One by one, I approached each female and briefly touched the pearl necklace they all wore. I wanted to just go straight to the redhead, but she was toward the end, and I had to go through this unnecessary step.
I didn’t even bother to really look at each belle. Fast flicks of my fingertips on the pearls and on to the next belle. If anything, I should admire the craftsmanship of my family company, but I didn’t even want to do that.
And then finally I reached the belle with the red hair. Jesus Christ, she smelled good. Floral mixed with spice.
Being up close to her, I felt a sense of familiarity. Had I met this woman before? I scrutinized