“And how have you come to be acquainted with Oliver Carter, then?” Frannie asked, tilting her head.
Grace’s voice never wavered. “He’s my cousin.”
Understanding flitted across Frannie’s face, and her pretense of politeness fell away. She recoiled.
“I’ve just seen someone calling to me,” she said flatly.
She curtsied, and Grace dipped into a pointed curtsy of her own.
It seemed that her family’s reputation had preceded her. Perhaps her mother’s slight of choosing a common, working-class man over the future governor of Missouri could be forgiven. But Grace’s older brother Walt was whispered about from Kansas City all the way to the grapevines of St. Louis society, solidifying opinions about how far Grace’s family had fallen. It would be all but impossible for any of the Covingtons to be welcomed back into this kind of society again—regardless of how Grace’s cousins felt about her.
Grace bit her lip. She knew she didn’t fit here. She didn’t know why she kept attempting to try. But—yes she did. Because she loved Lillie and Oliver and wanted to be in their lives, to be allowed in their world. And because she wanted to help assuage her mother’s guilt.Grace couldn’t stand the thought that her mother might regret marrying her father. Not that she regretted havingthem, per se—but Grace had watched the way the guilt ate away at her mother over Walt. Nell blamed herself for her children’s reduced position in life, for the unfortunate choices Walt had made, the way St. Louis society had shut them out and their social circles in Kansas City had recently shunned them. But if Grace could somehow find a way to be accepted—if she could make a good enough match despite their circumstances—her mother might stop blaming herself. And then Grace wouldn’t have to see the hollow way her mother’s skin was beginning to hang at her neck, the bruise-like circles beneath her eyes. Perhaps her parents would dance at night in the kitchen again when they thought no one was there. Maybe she would stop finding her mother in Walt’s room, staring at the faded drawings he’d made when he was seven.
Grace sighed. Frannie had left her standing awkwardly and alone on the fringes of the party. She turned away, cursing Oliver less for his abandonment and more for forgetting the petit fours he’d promised her, when a man with an aggressively oiled mustache suddenly stepped into her path.
“Hello,” he said. His eyes were slightly unfocused. “Would you care to dance?”
He looked at her neckline lasciviously and she tried not to shudder.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” she said. “But thank you.”
“Can’t,” he said, subtly moving to block her way. His face hardened. “Or won’t?”
He seemed alarmingly angry about the slighted invitation, and she tried to catch Oliver’s eye, but he was completely enraptured with Harriet. Once again, she wished desperately for Lillie. The only two people she knew at this party were completely wrapped up inone another, oblivious to the outside world, and to her sudden pre-dicament.
“I’m afraid I have to—” she began to say, stepping back, when someone came up beside her.
“Dance with me,” the man beside her finished. “No need to take offense, Alexander. It’s just that she already promised her hand to me.”
She looked up to see Theodore Parker looking down at her. He still had a slight frown on his face, but even so, he was infinitely more agreeable than the man who seemed unable to take no for an answer.
“Yes,” she said gratefully to Theodore. “I was just looking for you.”
They pushed past the scowling Alexander and Theodore swept her out onto the dance floor, his hand on her waist.
“Thank you,” she said as the music began, just as he brushed her foot with his own.
“I’m sorry,” he said at the same time.
She smiled.
“You should know I don’t usually dance,” he said, looking pained. “Especially with women I don’t know.” His hand adjusted on her waist. “That is, if I can help it.”
“Thank you for making an exception to assist a woman in distress. You should know I don’t make it a habit of needing rescues by strange men,” she said. “If I can help it.”
The shadow of a smile crossed his face, and her heart strangely fluttered.
She was very aware of the weight of his hand on the curve of her waist, the grip of the other holding her gloved palm.
“The next time you’re approached by an unwanted suitor, perhaps you could say you’ve drunk too much wine and are on the way to being sick,” he offered dryly.
She laughed and secretly sent up thanks to Lillie for making her practice dancing with Oliver, so that at least this felt natural, and she didn’t have to concentrate on counting steps. But she wasn’t used to the shoes, and she wobbled a bit in them.
“That’s not actually true, is it?” he asked, suddenly looking at her closer.
“No,” she said, amused. “I don’t really drink.”
He nodded. “Nor do I. Though I find it helpful when I’m forced into parties I wouldn’t otherwise choose to attend.”
