A Dangerous Liaison - L.R. Olson Page 0,21

behind the curtains that hid the hall from the ballroom, taking in the soft glow of candles and the chandelier above. Blast it all, I just wanted to peek. If Vi saw me, she’d be utterly amused. In the far corner, an orchestra tuned its instruments. I was fascinated by it all. The beauty, the perfection, the cleanliness. I breathed in deeply the scent of roses and evergreen. It was a dream come true.

If I was caught, I’d be more than reprimanded. My hands curled into the velvet curtains. I just couldn’t seem to move my feet. I wanted to experience it all, I wanted to somehow be one with the elegance. The peace. The beauty. I wasn’t silly enough to believe I could have such luxury, but I knew I wanted more than the life I had been handed. So much more. What was wrong with wanting elegance, wealth? Blimey, maybe Vi’s romantic nature had influenced me more than I’d realized.

Suddenly, the ballroom doors were flung wide, startling a soft gasp from my lips. A roar of conversation echoed through the room, heralding the arrival of the guests. Lord and Lady Landcaster were first to appear, looking elegant and regal. Their son followed, all handsome smiles and charm.

A chaos of wealth, fame, and beauty in a single space. Women in colorful gowns, fluttering their fans, demure smiles upon their pretty faces. Men dressed in dark suits, hair combed neatly in place. Glasses of champagne, trays of cakes. It all happened so quickly, I wasn’t sure what to focus on. But one thing was clear…I wanted it. All of this. I wanted it with a desperation that ate at my soul.

Yet, I didn’t belong, and never would. I was no better than Violet with her silly dreams of being swept off her feet by some handsome, rich gent.

Disgusted with myself, I started to turn away when a shiver of awareness swept over me. He was here. All day I’d felt restless, but hadn’t understood why. Now, I knew.

I searched the room until I found him. He was taller than most, more handsome than all. A golden, fallen angel, representing the most basic of human desires. I didn’t miss the many women giving him completely thorough glances from behind their fans.

They were as drawn to him as I. An odd ping tightened my chest, making it hard to breathe. I dared to step closer. He’d offended me more than once, yet I was utterly fascinated with the man. It was as if he’d dug his claws into me, and wouldn’t let go, no matter how much I struggled to be free.

He laughed at something the woman next to him said, a blinding smile that showed those perfect teeth. I hated that he smiled for another woman. Hated that I would never be his equal. Could never dance in his arms.

“When can I go to my first ball?”

The memory whispered through my mind, unheeded but welcome, always welcome. I stood in a garden filled with flowers, twirling around and around until I was dizzy.

A tall boy stepped up close, ruffling my hair. “Not for a long, long time.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Violet whispered, startling me.

A strange memory…or a dream? I shook off my unease. Lord, at times I felt as if I was going mad. “Indeed. Beautiful.”

The orchestra started. Mozart? My fingers tapped against my thighs. Auntie had taught me the pianoforte but it had been years since I’d played. Would I even remember if I ever had the chance again?

He slid his arm around her narrow waist and twirled her about the dance floor. They looked utterly, disgustingly perfect together. A golden couple. The woman wore a peach creation of such finery that it floated around her slim figure like a cloud. She was everything England loved: blonde hair, porcelain face, big blue eyes, delicate body. She looked up at him with a soft smile of pure adoration, and he held her as if she was spun of glass and not flesh and bone.

An arrow of annoyance shot through me. Anger, jealousy…shame. I’d been burying my emotions for so long that they were an unwelcome and unfamiliar distraction. Was she his intended? I shifted farther behind the curtains. I’d never cared much about my looks. I’d been called pretty enough times by men merely wanting to get under my skirts, but I knew I was no English rose. So why did Gabe want me when he had her? Was it merely

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