Tell Me You're Mine (The British Billionaires #1) - J. S. Scott Page 0,85

never done such an elaborate makeup job on my own, or a hairstyle with such elegant knots.

Not to mention the beautiful, floor-length red dress Bella had talked me into.

I’d seen the dress as a little fussy when I’d first seen the pictures, but I didn’t regret choosing it now. The tight, sheer sleeves that ended at a loop over my thumb had dainty, delicate embroidery that I hadn’t noticed in the pictures. Although the bodice hugged my body, the skirt flared at the waist, falling gracefully to the top of my high-heeled shoes.

I felt like a princess. Okay, maybe more like Cinderella when she was cleaned up for the ball. Regardless, I did feel beautiful.

There was also the small—or maybe not so small—matter of learning how to waltz. Bella had opened up her ballroom for this event, and she’d employed a small orchestra to play.

Leo had come to my rescue before I’d gone upstairs to start getting ready. He’d shown me the steps, danced with me until I was confident I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.

I looked at Bella with gratitude. “You look very elegant yourself, Your Grace,” I told her.

She made a face as she replied, “It doesn’t matter what I look like. I’m an old woman who already found the love of her life and lost him. I’m perfectly content to sit on the sidelines, my dear, and watch the younger generation mingle.”

I snorted. “You’ll never be sidelined, Bella, and you know it.”

She gave me a small smile. “You may be right. I’m probably a little too ornery for that.”

The older woman looked like…a duchess. The ice-blue gown she was wearing complemented her coloring, and the sapphire and diamond jewelry she had around her neck, on her wrist, and adorning her ears were the perfect accessories.

Well, if you could really call a fortune in gemstones an “accessory.”

I reached out and touched her bracelet gingerly. “These are gorgeous.”

“They were a twenty-fifth anniversary gift from Damian’s father. I was born in September, so sapphires are my birthstone. They were given to me with so much love that it’s been too difficult to wear them until tonight,” she said wistfully.

“You loved him very much, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “More than I ever could have imagined loving anyone. I’ve never regretted a single moment of leaving my own country as a young woman, and adopting England as my second home.”

“Was it strange?” I asked her. “Coming from Spain to England?”

“It was a whole new world for me, but it wasn’t the country—it was the stark difference in social classes that made it so hard to adapt. My family are poor farmers. I wanted better, which was why I was living in the city to get an education. I wanted more, but I certainly didn’t aspire to be a duchess, or to suddenly be so rich that I could buy anything I wanted. Most women would give anything for that kind of life, but I was…uncomfortable.”

I nodded. “I can see why.” Hell, it was disconcerting for me just to be dressed like a princess going to her first ball. I couldn’t imagine how Bella had felt trying to make all this her everyday life.

There was a sparkle in her dark eyes as she answered, “I got used to it, but what made it an amazing life was the man I shared it with, and the family we made together. All the money would have meant nothing if I wasn’t already happy with the man I’d chosen. Damian’s father was worth all the work I had to do to try to fit into his social status.”

“But why isn’t that class system gone? We’re into the twenty-first century. Does it really matter?” I questioned. “Even the royal family is pretty much there for show. It’s not like they have any real power in the government.”

She wagged a finger at me as she said, “Don’t you believe that, missy,” she warned. “People can say the society ranking system is dead, but it really isn’t. Old money and distinguished titles are still valued, and nouveau riche are looked on as social climbers. It’s gotten better over the years, but England is steeped in centuries of tradition, and the English people love their heritage, especially the old money and titles. Nobody has dared to tell them that if they cut themselves, they aren’t going to bleed blue.”

“Damian isn’t like that,” I mused. “And neither is Leo.” I certainly wasn’t about to argue with her. I’d met enough of