AllFreeNovel
Share Us
This wasn’t true.
Before she left, though I knew it might upset her, I asked one last question.
“Felicity, if you don’t mind, what’s the name of Mr. Horace’s wife? It doesn’t say on the list.”
She stared at me, fairy eyes large and worried as though the woman would appear if her name was spoken.
“Margaret,” she said. “Her name is Margaret.”
***
The guests began to arrive at a quarter to eight, laughter and unfamiliar voices causing a commotion in the front hall. Though I was anxious, I was also eager for the opportunity to enjoy myself. Of course, I could also foul up spectacularly. I continued to repeat over and over that I had nothing to lose. If Professor Hughes hadn’t fired me already for any vast number of reasons, he wasn’t going to, and I knew my manners well enough not to embarrass myself in front of people who were used to high society. Not wanting to be the last one to arrive, I departed my room with a tight chest and a buzzing head.
Emerging from the side hall, I stepped into another world. Within mere hours the main corridor had been transformed. Oak limbs stood either side of the open door, woven together to create an arch. Within the branches were tucked roses the color of a virgin’s blush and black hellebore, the scent of them sweetening the air. Shimmering silks in pink and gold draped across the ceiling creating a canopy where incandescent light bulbs had been strung, their light dimmed by the thick fabrics resulting in an enchanting glow. I’d never seen lights used this way, not in person. I’d once read an article about the use of electric lights strung together inHarper’smagazine. In that case it had been for the wedding of one of the richest families in the country. I never imagined seeing the effect with my own eyes, and I gazed at them in wonder. For further luxury, the same flowers adorning the arch had been sewn to the silk in clusters, threaded through with gold twine, which sparkled in the light.
On the ground, wide white vases held sprays of bare branches wrapped in tight winds of glittering metallic thread, and next to them, candelabras as tall as myself, boasting countless arms of white tapers, lit and dancing a moody, fiery waltz. The floor itself was littered with gilded petals that invited the guests to the dining room where recorded big band jazz played at low volume, embellished with general noises of conversation.
I stalled, as I had my first day, too afraid after all to face these strangers and the professor all in one night. With my heart pounding in my ears, I retreated backward and ran into someone who had approached from behind with such a gentle step I hadn’t heard them. A hand pressed upon my waist, and I turned my head to find Professor Hughes.
I stepped away, not trusting my body, still angry with him for reasons I knew were both justified and overblown. His tuxedo and waistcoat were a depthless black worn over a white pleated-front shirt, and a square of white and gold silk was folded in the breast pocket. His attire somehow heightened his devilishness, and the glint in his eye when he peered down at me did not help.
“You are devastating in that dress, Miss Foxboro,” he murmured. “And your new hairstyle suits you.”
“Thank you,” I replied stiffly, too stubborn to let on that I was pleased. I wanted to create distance and make it clear how annoyed I was, but I was unsure of how to escape as I didn’t want to enter the dining room first.
“I see you managed to pass the rest of the night in one piece.” There was a ghost of a smile, and I resented it.
“Well, I didn’t find myself lying with a broken neck outside my window or wandering to your bedroom in the dark.” I tried to sound light, as though those two things were such silly, unlikely events as to be jokes.
“The first image is ghastly,” he replied, taking a moment to observe my hair again, running his gaze along the newly shorn ends, down to my mouth, swiped with a hint of red at Felicity’s insistence. The bold colors gave me confidence. The Millie I was would say nothing and let the innuendo hang in the air, the upper hand still firmly belonging to the professor. But the Millie I wanted to be tonight wouldn’t follow the rules.
“And the second?” I asked pointedly.
When he raised his eyes to mine, I didn’t look away. It was a challenge, and we both knew it. Another slight rise at the corners of his mouth, amused, pleased, both. I had no idea if I was playing into his hand or beating him at his own game.
“My manners prohibit me from replying,” he said.
“You have manners? A true surprise.”
Eager for the last word and unused to sparring this way, I stepped closer to the dining room, no longer caring if I was the first to enter.
Yet there again, the hand at my waist, fingers digging gently against my lower ribs to stop me in my tracks. He leaned into me, the warmth of his chest against my back, his voice a warning in my ear.
“Don’t attempt to start a war with me. You won’t win.”
Despite the heat in my cheeks, which in a brighter light might have given me away in a snap, I turned my face toward his, lifting my chin as though offering my mouth. There was a mere whisper between us, and his half-lidded eyes suggested he was waiting for me to close it.
“I think you’ll find you’ve underestimated me,” I said, breaking away and entering the dining room with a friendly smile and a belly full of butterflies.
The throaty chuckle behind me didn’t inspire my confidence.
Chapter 15
The dining room was no less extravagant than the entrance hall, candles alive in every corner, their light twinkling from crystals that hung suspended from the ceiling on long metallic threads like raindrops. The hellebore had been replaced in the table arrangements by white iris and complemented the blushing English roses that lay scattered between the fine china and crystal glasses. A phonograph played the music, pouring it from the brass horn that opened like the petal of a trumpet flower. No one had been seated yet, all guests still milling near the side tables set with old bottles of champagne and a full array of hors d’oeuvres: canapes, oysters Rockefeller, cheese, fruit, stuffed olives, and deviled eggs. Regardless of my nerves, my mouth watered.
“You’ve outdone yourself again, Callum. The decorations are extraordinary. I’m only sorry Ms. Dillard was not the one in charge of the meal this time. I’m sure it will still be delightful, but she is a true miracle in the kitchen.” A woman in her forties, her beauty enhanced by the fine lines around her eyes, spoke first upon our arrival. She was draped in gold, the satin sheath dress pooling on the floor in liquid splendor, cowl neckline dipping modestly in the front. The umber skin of her exposed shoulders glittered with a reflective powder that had been dusted there, and as she turned to place her empty glass on the table, the splendorous line of her back was visible, the dress plummeting to her hips where a large bow, lined with embroidered crystals, sparkled in the candlelight. Her hair was fashioned in delicate finger waves, the same crystals from the bow shining in each precisely positioned turn.
A giant man with a tawny complexion, tidy salt-and-pepper beard, and bald head thundered up to me, taking my hands in his, squeezing with such honest goodwill and welcome that the knots in my stomach eased. He was dressed in a similar black tuxedo as Callum, but his waistcoat and pocket square mirrored the gold of the woman’s dress.
