Tears welled up in her eyes. Was this what she could have been, had she never gone to Elk Grove? Most girls would have had their hair styled before; they would have danced at many of a ball before marrying. When she thought she was insane, she could bear all she had missed out on, but in an instant, it had come crashing down upon her.
Mrs. Rosewood knelt down beside her, taking her hands in hers. “What ever is the matter?”
Catherine turned away,dashing away tears. “It’s silly.”
“No, please tell me.”
“I don’t know where I belong. I’m terrified of the ball, but I am equally afraid of what happens if tonight doesn’t go well.”
Mrs. Rosewood squeezed her hands. “Tonight will go perfectly. Think of this as the beginning of the rest of your life. What happened in the past is behind you.”
Catherine met her gaze. It felt greedy to hope for such a thing. But if this were her happy ending, shouldn’t they defeat the villain? Shouldn’t she be madly in love with her husband? None of that was true. And yet there was an assuredness in Mrs. Rosewood’s gaze; she wanted to believe her, and more than anything, she wanted it to be true.
* * *
Mrs. Rosewood escorted Catherine downstairs.Guests had started to arrive, and their voices floated up the double staircase in the foyer. Her stomach did somersaults. Edward greeted them at the top of the stairs. She’d been avoiding him since she returned from the forest. Mrs. Rosewood said he didn’t like to talk about the fae. And she wanted to respect his wishes, but it felt as if since then, a rift grew between them. As if they were each standing on the opposite banks of a raging river.
“You look lovely, darling. Aunt.” He bobbed his head toward them. He was dashing in his tails and cummerbund.
She lowered her head. She still couldn’t look him in the eye. “Thank you,” she muttered.
“I’ll see you both at the ball,” Mrs. Rosewood said and headed down the stairs ahead of them.
Catherine watched her go, wishing she had stayed. She felt more confident with Mrs. Rosewood beside her. With her gone, the doubt began to creep in once more.
“Shall we?” Edward asked as he offered Catherine his bent arm.
She inhaled deeply and threaded her arm through his. She felt strung taut, her shoulders bunched, and her nerves prickling. She’d escaped faery amidst flying arrows and flying headfirst into massive thorns, and yet walking into the ballroom, sweat slicked her palms and made her insides turn to water. She could do this. She had to do this.
The doors to the ballroom were closed. Music and overlapping voices and laughter came through. Her heart was in her throat. Edward nodded to the footman, and he opened the door. Light flooded out into the foyer, and Catherine blinked into it, momentarily blinded.
The glittering crowd parted for them, creating a walkway onto the dance floor. She felt every eye on her as they strode forward. She put all her concentration into putting one foot before the other. She peeked once up at the crowd and, for the briefest moment, thought she saw Mr. Thorn staring out at her. She did a double take and discovered only a stranger’s puzzled face. He wouldn’t come here; he wouldn’t dare hurt her in front of all these people.
She and Edward stepped out onto the dance floor. At one end, a band in coats and tails waited with bows poised. Edward nodded in their direction, and the first notes of their song quivered in the air. Compared to the music of faery, the notes were flat and dissonant. The guests gathered around the fringes of the dance floor, and their faces all began to blur together. Among them, she thought she saw Mr. Thorn again, but when she blinked, he was gone. She shook her head. Her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Edward bowed to Catherine. “My lady, may I have this dance?”
Catherine swallowed past the lump in her throat and curtsied in reply. Edward put his hand on her lower back, and she flinched. She glanced at the guests. Had they seen it? She tried to smooth it over with a smile at Edward. There was a faint frown on his face, but soon the music was washing over them, and he was leading her around the room. She’d never learned to waltz properly, and with each stumbled footstep, she felt their scrutinizing gazes. She swore she heard the buzz of their gossip.
Any missteps she made were blessedly recovered thanks to Edward’s quick thinking and graceful movements. He led her around the dance floor, and halfway through the dance, the guests began to join them. Catherine’s footsteps floundered, and her skirts brushed against the lady dancing next to her. Then, when she had to trade partners, she nearly collided with the woman whose partner she’d gotten mixed up with. When she had danced in the forest with Mr. Thorn, it had all felt so effortless, as if she were walking on air. She shook herself. She couldn’t think about him or that place. Not again tonight. This was where she belonged, among her husband and the village. Faery had enchanted her, but perhaps with time, those memories would fade.
The last notes of the song wrung out, and everyone stopped to clap.
Color rose in Edward’s cheeks as he beamed at her as he asked, “Shall we dance again?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, I think I need a moment’s rest.”
“I’ll get you some refreshment then,” Edward said and disappeared into the crowd.
Catherine found a chair and sat upon it. Dancers moved about the ball, their whirling figures poised and practiced. Had she not been sent away to Elk Grove, maybe she would have been half as elegant as them? She would have debuted like other girls at a young age and wouldn’t shirk from her own husband’s touch.
“She’s got him wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” Lydia’s voice floated toward her.
Catherine tried not to look in her direction. But Lydia and another woman she didn’t recognize were talking with their backs to her.
“I never thought Lord Thornton would be so taken in,” the woman replied.
Edward returned with a glass of champagne. Catherine took it from him and gulped it down at once.
