“You idiot girl.” Her father’s voice was low but venomous. “Have you really been cavorting with some American trash?”
Oh, so this was about Agnes. May realized that some part of her had worried her father knew about her plans for Eddy—or her secret hopes for George. He would have thought she was making a fool of herself.
“I am sorry that I came to the wedding without telling you,” she said hastily. “Miss Endicott’s maid was with us, so there was no question of impropriety.”
Francis gave a caustic laugh. “You think I care about your reputation? Maybe if you compromised yourself with some young man, I could wash my hands of you. No, I’m angry that you acceptedcharityfrom that girl.”
Before May could say anything, Francis yanked at the fur trim lining her gown. “Is this one of her old dresses? You would really debase our family name by taking things from people likethat?”
He must have overheard Agnes’s remark that the dress had been hers. Or one of the servants had overheard and told him; it didn’t matter. May supposed she should count herself lucky that he hadn’t caught on sooner.
“Agnes never even wore this gown. The dressmaker cut it wrong and refused to take it back,” May babbled, lying. “No one saw her in it!”
“I don’t care whether she wore it. I won’t have you taking handouts from anyone, especially not some American nobody.” Francis’s breath smelled of ale; he must have beendrinking before the wedding ceremony. “What about the gown that was delivered last month, the one you said had the fringe repaired? Was that hers, too?”
When she said nothing, a vein pulsed along her father’s forehead. “You are a Teck, and we don’t need anyone else’s money.”
“Except we do, because you and Mother spent ours longago.”
May hadn’t meant to speak that thought aloud.
Her father’s face lit up with frenzied rage, and he lifted a hand to strike her.
She winced and closed her eyes, bracing herself. Her father would hit her, and she was powerless to stop him, because in the eyes of the world—of the law—she was not even really a person. She was just a woman, not entitled to vote or hold property or have any rights at all, outside those granted to her by her father. Or eventually, if she could ever find one, her husband.
“You stupid girl,” Francis said at last. May dared to open her eyes and saw that his rage had ebbed. He was staring at her with sneering disgust. “Go ahead and wear a charity dress. It’s not as if it’ll make you pretty enough for any man to want you, though God knows I pray one would. I’m done with you and your failures. Actually,” he said slowly, “I have been done with you a long time.”
He turned and walked away without another word.
May put a hand on the stone railing. An unfamiliar emotion coursed through her, pounding through her blood in a molten rush. She closed her eyes, trying to regain control over her breaths, but the insides of her eyelids were tingedred.
It took a while before she recognized the feeling as hatred.
She had wanted to escape her father’s house for as long as she could remember, yet it no longer seemed like enough just to get out. She wanted todestroyhim.
May needed to marry someone higher-born and wealthier than Francis of Teck had ever been, someone who would put her in a position where she would be invincible, untouchable. She would climb so far above Francis that she could protect herself, and her mother too.
And someday, when she was staring down at him, she would make him feel as helpless and insignificant as he’d always done to her. He would learn how it felt to live in fear of someone else’s whims.
On her way back to the ballroom, May caught sight of her face in a darkened window and gasped. Her features didn’t look like her own; they were spiteful and sharp and hateful. She drew in a slow breath, trying to settle her demure court smile on her face like a mask. It didn’t fit right.
She needed to see George. Not that she could tell him what had just happened, of course. But he would steady her, would remind her that she wasn’t unwanted trash: that she was a person, and deserved to be loved.
Back in the palace’s ballroom, May began scanning the crowds. She saw Sophie and Tino swaying at the center of the dance floor; they were now titled the Duke and Duchess of Sparta, which sounded oddly antiquated to May, but that was Greece for you. She kept looking through the guests, past Danish and German and Russian royals…and then she found George.
He was with his cousin Missy.
They weren’t dancing. Honestly, if they’d been dancing, May could have talked herself into ignoring it, but this was so much worse. They were tucked into a far corner of the room, their heads tipped together in light, conspiratorial laughter.
May’s hatred of her father spilled over to hatred of Missy without any effort at all. She resented Missy for being fresh-faced and beautiful and young. May had never in her life looked like that—glowing with the carefree radiance of someone who has faced no obstacles or hardships. Unlike Missy, who’d been indulged and spoiled andlovedby both her parents, May had grown up starved of affection. She was several years older than Missy, and oh how she looked it, her features stamped with the weariness of always being on the fringes of royalty.
As she watched, George brushed an invisible fleck off the shoulder of Missy’s champagne-colored gown. There was something undeniably intimate about the gesture. The dagger of pain in May’s heart twisted itself deeper.
“I’m sorry,” a voice near her murmured.
May looked up, startled, to see Alix of Hesse. “What did you say?” she asked, a bit defensively.
Alix bit her lip. May couldn’t help noting that Alix didn’t look quite right—she was still as beautiful as ever, but flushed and oddly tense.
