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“Though I did forget to tell you I’m sorry about your family.” Losing the acidity in her voice, she turned slightly sympathetic, which was even harder to resist. “I just learned yesterday that you didn’t know until you were released.”
I nodded, letting her know I’d heard her and hoping she’d move away. But I didn’t hear her leave.
I didn’t like her knowing that no one had told me my family died. It was exactly the kind of thing that would stir up her bleeding heart. And the last thing she needed was to feel any kind of compassion toward me. If I was going to successfully keep her away, she needed to loathe me.
Except I’m pretty sure I didn’t have the heart to be cruel enough to drive her off for good.
Behind me, City spoke again. “I still leave flowers at Bentley’s grave, in case you ever want to know where she’s buried.”
Aww, Jesus. A sob escaped and I immediately bumped a fisted hand to my mouth. I think my knees maybe even buckled, but maybe not because I managed to keep standing. It only felt as if the world had been knocked out from under me. Dizziness assailed me as I glanced back at the woman I loved.
Tears had filled her lashes, but she wasn’t outright crying.
I lowered my hand enough to rasp, “Okay,” and she nodded, sending me a small smile before turning and moving away.
The day of the cotillion seemed particularly hot and muggy. As I pulled on my mauve dress that mother had called puce, I groaned. This suffocating thing was going to stifle me in the heat even more. So I paused before slipping the straps over my shoulders to draw in one last fresh breath. Since the top part of my back would be exposed before the bottom part tied together corset style, I couldn’t wear a bra.
I took a moment to gaze at my bare breasts in the mirror, remembering Knox’s mouth on them. They were a little sore today, in a good achy way. Whenever I thought about what we’d done, the ache would spread, blossoming out my nipples and down between my legs. I wished he were here now, so I could press down against the hardness under his jeans and relieve some of this pulsing throb.
I was horny, I realized with a start, and it made me laugh.
Throughout all my childhood, I’d always felt like a misfit who could never fit in or do things like normal people. When I’d gone to school, the feeling continued because I was so paranoid. But after the way my family had always treated me like an outsider, I’d been too afraid to put myself out there.
I’d been so sure I’d grow old alone and sad because I could never find a place to fit in. But yesterday, a boy had told me he loved me, and he’d kissed my breasts, and I felt so far above a normal, average girl today; I freaking glowed. And I knew where I fit in now.
Suddenly understanding why Jeremy had wondered if I’d lost my virginity, I flushed even harder. Would people really be able to tell I was in love just from looking at me? What if someone in my family noticed and decided to investigate? What if, someday, they followed me out to meet Knox and found us together?
“Felicity!” Mother’s irritated voice called from the base of the steps. “Really. What is taking so long? The hair stylist and makeup artist are here and waiting.”
With a sigh, I fastened the rest of my dress, slid on the heels Mother had chosen to go with it, and hurried from the room. “I’m coming.”
As I clattered down the steps, Mother glared at me from the bottom. “Tread more carefully, will you? You sound like a herd of buffalo tromping down the stairwell. I’d at least like to give the hair stylist the illusion you’re a proper young lady.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, ducking my face and slowing my step so the tap of heels could be more ladylike.
Sniffing in disgust, Mother grabbed my arm and hauled me after her. I think the ladies waiting in the parlor to fix me up had heard my scolding. They each sent me sympathetic grimaces and were extra nice as they worked simultaneously on my face and hair. The entire time, my mother stood guard, offering the occasional nasty critique, and by the time they were done, I had to admit, I looked good. I swear the makeup made me appear eighteen, maybe even older. And there wasn’t an ounce of frizz to my hair; every curl looked amazing.
“The photographer’s here,” Father announced as he strolled by, shuffling through a pile of mail in his hands.
“Good.” Mother urged me to stand with an almost proud smile, then she called sharply. “Abbott. She’s ready. What do you think?”
“Hmm?” He paused to frown at her.
Mother hitched her chin my way. “Felicity,” she said.
“Oh, yes.” He glanced over, barely looking at me. “Very nice.”
“I know.” Mother preened. “I had to go out of state to find just the perfect stylist to produce this kind of miracle to her untamable hair.”
I shrank my shoulders a little, embarrassed that for a moment there, I thought she’d been happy with me and the way I looked. But no, she was pleased with the transformation she had orchestrated.
No longer worried about glowing from my newfound love in front of her or anyone else in my family, I followed her outside, miserable and hot, and ready to get the day over with.
Garrett met us as he was going in. He paused and took me in, studying me from head to toe. After a snort, he passed by, saying, “Might’ve looked better if you’d stuffed your bra.”
I gazed after him as he entered the house, definitely no longer glowing and suddenly self-conscious. What if Knox had had the same thought? What if he’d been disappointed? He hadn’t seemed as if he minded my breast size last night, but what if—
“Felicity!” Mother snapped. “My God, what is wrong with you? Quit dawdling and come along.”
