She was going to a real society ball!
Certainly, she had all the training. There was blue blood in her family tree. Her father was the product of several generations of younger sons, but eventually the tree sprouted from an earl. And there was a baron in her mother’s ancestry. Which meant—in practical terms—that she had the education of a lady even though she never used a silver tea service.
Except, of course, now she was going to a ball with dukes and earls and all manner of the aristocracy, and surely, they would see that she was an odd country mouse who had been labeled one of the Troubled Twins.
It was enough to make her stitches uneven.
Susanne realized none of this. She was filled with questions about ghosts and spirits and the afterlife. But all of it was amirage to cover the real problem. And that, of course, came out five minutes before they were to leave for the ball.
“Gwenivere wouldn’t even look at me,” Susanne said, her tone low. “We used to be so close and…”
Yes, well that was what happened when best friends were ripped apart. “I suspect all her anger at your brother was really about you.”
“She’s angry at me?” Susanne looked away. “Well, of course she is. I wrote to her, you know. But Papa found out and burned the letters in front of me.”
“Did you ever receive the letters she sent to you?”
Susanne’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “I suppose Papa would have destroyed those as well.”
Probably. The old viscount had much to answer for. What he had done to tear their two families apart had been vicious, not to mention incredibly cruel to children who had grown up in each other’s pockets.
“Perhaps you two will find a way to be friends again. Once this is all over.”
“Do you really think so?” Susanne asked.
“I do. Assuming you speak to her. You accused her of never looking at you, but you never tried to say something to her.”
Susanne flushed. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“And neither did she. But if you can screw up the courage, I think you can be friends again.”
Susanne was excited by that thought. And Giselle realized it was good advice for herself. She’d gone to a first-rate finishing school. She’d made friends with lots of blue-blooded girls. She need only screw up her courage to face this night, and she would be fine. She might even find her old friends. Or make new ones. She only needed to believe it was possible.
At her first society ball.
On the arm of the only man she’d ever truly loved.
Now that the alterations were complete, and she was dressed and primped—as much as possible—there were no distractions to keep her from her memories. She recalled all the ways the young Jonathan had teased her out of her shyness. The times he had made her laugh or made her believe she wasn’t the awkward, forgotten half of a set of twins. He’d pulled her out of her shell and made her feel so many wonderful things. Not about him, although that came with it. No, the things she felt were about herself. Around him, she felt special. As if he saw her for who she really was, and he liked it. He liked her. No one else had ever looked at her that way. Not before or since. Even now, ten years later, she remembered how she felt with him, especially when he looked straight into her eyes and whispered…
“Time to go.”
That was not what he had whispered. It was what he was saying now, calling up the stairs to where she and Susanne had been doing their toilette.
She and Susanne shared a look, both scanning the other from head to toe.
“You look stunning,” Giselle said.
“I was going to say the same thing to you!”
Giselle grinned. It was impossible not to in the face of Susanne’s enthusiasm. “Then we should both take our stunning selves downstairs before your brother comes up here to see what has kept us.”
“Oh it’ll take another two calls before Mama is ready,” Susanne said blithely. But then she opened her bedroom door and all but skipped out the door. Giselle might have done the same, but she had to remind herself that a mature woman did not skip. Certainly not while wearing a ballgown.
And so she walked. And then she stopped halfway down the stairs when Jonathan gazed up at her.
Oh, she remembered that look. It was the expression of a man struck dumb. It was the look he’d given her when she’d told him she could see ghosts. And it was also the look he’d given her the first time she’d let him touch her intimately. He was robbed of breath then, and she…
Her face heated at the memory. And then she looked into his eyes and saw such stunned appreciation that her cheeks blazed even hotter.
