Two more women swept into the room, drawing my attention from the lady who held my arm in her tight, gloved grip.
The blonde woman smiled. “Dowager, how lovely to see you.”
The woman loosened her grip, releasing me and pasting a serene smile upon her face. A smile that didn’t quite reach her cold, hard eyes. Had I imagined the feral look? “You as well, Mrs. Styles.”
I curtsied and moved back, resisting the urge to rub my bruised wrist. I could still feel the strange woman’s gaze on me even though she chatted with the newly arrived couple. Had she seen me somewhere? Maybe at the Landcaster estate? Perhaps with Gabe near the market? Dear Lord, I hoped not.
The younger of the two newly arrived women stopped in front of me. “My hem, my dear,” she said dismissively. She smelled of roses and powder. Clean and sweet. “Did you see the way he looked at me, Mother?”
I grabbed a sewing kit as I peeked through my lashes. My heart lurched. The golden goddess. The woman who had been dancing with Gabe. I’d thought she was pretty from afar; up close she was perfection.
“You,” her mother snapped, jerking me from my stupor. She was just as pretty as her child, although her eyes wore the hard look of one who had experienced the perils of life. “My daughter’s hem needs stitched. Now.”
“Yes, my lady.” I dropped to my knees before the perfect woman, feeling the odd urge to stab someone with my needle. This was the lady Gabe would marry. If not her, then one very much like her. I was a mere diversion. A challenge. A game. Much to my annoyance, my hands trembled as I sewed.
“It will be soon, my dear,” the mother giggled, belying her age. “Very soon, indeed.”
“I hope so. I must look perfect.”
“Do hurry, child,” her mother demanded, tapping me atop the head with her fan. “Good lord, servants nowadays.”
The image of me snatching that fan from her delicate fingers and slapping her across the face brought some much-needed comfort. Why did they feel as if they could treat us as if we had no feelings? No soul?
I quickened my stitches and knotted the end, eager to be rid of the two. “There. Done.”
Without a by your leave, they were gone, rushing from the room to return to Gabe. The other maids were busy stitching hems. The dowager who had noticed my scar had left. Another song started, the cheerful notes echoing up the stairs and down the hall. I could imagine the couples dancing happily across the floor, drinking champagne, making memories, selling their daughters to the top bidder.
“Amazing what they’ll overlook in a potential mate all for the catch of the season,” Harriet murmured as she picked up pins that were scattered across the floor.
I knelt to help her. “What do you mean?”
An older maid cleared her throat and gave us a pointed glare.
“Lord Chambers,” Harriet whispered, as she tucked a loose lock under her cap. When I looked at her quizzically, she shook her head. “Oh nothing, just the gossip you get to hear when you’re a nameless servant.” She stood and patted my shoulder. “But don’t worry, before you know it, they’ll be at dinner and we can take a break.”
I nodded. “Harriet, who was that woman I was attending to when I first arrived?”
Her brows furrowed as she thought back. “Stepmum to an earl, Whitfield, I believe. They say he kicked her out with barely two pence to rub together. Some people say he’s evil. Others say she is.”
I nibbled my lower lip. “Is the family here?”
“No, they rarely go out in public. Handsome lads, but they don’t get on well with society. Both the father and stepbrother died mysteriously. The family is rife with gossip.”
I didn’t have time to ask more questions, for three women rushed into the room, demanding assistance, and thoughts of Gabe and his perfect future wife were pushed to the wayside.
****
Gabriel
I knew she was here. Knew when she watched me dance with Miranda. Could feel her attention like a caress, as if she was a siren, calling to me across the sea of the ballroom.
And then she’d disappeared, and it felt like she’d taken the very air with her. I couldn’t concentrate. Had no interest in the women around me. No desire to eat. Drink. Sure as hell no eagerness to feel merry. I could only prowl the ballroom, consumed with finding her again.