After a few more ticks of the clock, he said, “Don’t worry about me, Emma. Really. Go back to the party.”
Emma stayed put. Arthur nodded wordlessly—a gentle nudge—and finally, Emma smiled a pitying half-smile and left. Once the door to the library was shut behind her, Arthur let out a long breath, and Jesse hurried over to him. He seized Arthur’s hands.
“I’m notcompletelyfine,” Arthur admitted. “But Iammostly fine.”
“Do you want to sit for a while?”
Arthur shook his head. “No. I’ve been away from the party long enough. My parents are probably wondering where I am. In fact, they’re probably fuming about how rude I have supposedly been, even though I’m sure that everyone else has been sufficiently entertained by the music I provided.”
After a brief pause, Jesse nodded.
“Alright,” Jesse said. “Do you want to head back together then or...?”
Arthur shrugged again, barely moving his shoulders as he did. It was as though the heaviness of the news of his rejection was too much to lift. And, oh, Jesse wished that he could carry it for him instead.
“Might as well,” Arthur finally said.
Together, they walked across the reception room. While climbing the stairs, Jesse racked his brain trying to find the right words—ones that might help ease Arthur’s pain. Jesse knew all too well what it was like to try to achieve something, only to fall short. Unfortunately, though, he still couldn’t think of what he should say. Probably because he himself continued to feel such shame over his own past failures.
Once Jesse and Arthur reached the ballroom, two people who had to have been Arthur’s parents started toward them.
“Arthur Albert Hughes,” Arthur’s mother began with a chastising shake of her head that made Jesse’s stomach roil, “it isimpolite to throw a party and simply walk off and leave your guests without their host for over an hour.”
Arthur’s father huffed, “Where were you anyway?”
Arthur’s eyes flitted to Jesse.
“I was with Mr. O’Connor here,” Arthur said, smiling a strained-looking smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. “He works at Putnam Press. I, ehm, I invited him to celebrate the fair with us. Actually, I invited others from the shop as well, though unfortunately none of my other employees were able to make it tonight.”
Arthur’s lie echoed in Jesse’s ears. It made him want to shrink in on himself. Arthur hadn’t invited anyone else from Putnam. Jesse had asked Thomas about it outright. Oh, hell, this was what their relationship would have to be like, wasn’t it? Lies to explain why Jesse was present at one event or another. Lies to explain why someone as prominent and wealthy and influential as Arthur Hughes would be spending time with arandom manwho worked in one of his print shops.
“Anyway,” Arthur said, “I wanted to show Mr. O’Connor the library and talk to him in private about my exhibit.” He heaved a sigh. “Which, I only just learned, will not come to be.”
Neither Arthur’s father nor his mother offered him looks of sympathy.
Instead, his father clicked his tongue once and said, “Arthur, if the fair’s organizers received the poorly printed invitations for this party, I can only imagine that it may have sparked concern over the quality of your presses. Besides that...” He rocked back on his heels and shook his head. “Son, this is an odd theme. Masquerade balls are one thing. But this is... well, what was the purpose in asking people to come here wearing something they’d wear to church?”
“Yes, it is rather strange,” Arthur’s mother added.
Arthur’s cheeks turned pink as his eyes flitted over to Jesse. Jesse’s cheeks warmed too.
“I wanted my employees to feel comfortable,” Arthur said, his voice sounding tight. “I hadn’t realized that it might strike anyone as odd to be provided with the opportunity to wear our lovely church clothes in a slightly fancier setting. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Good,” his father said before nodding back toward the tables. “Well, we better get settled in our seats. Food will be served soon, if I’m not mistaken.”
Arthur fumbled for his pocket watch and clicked it open.
“Fifteen minutes before they bring out the soup,” he confirmed. “I’ll, ehm, be there shortly. Mr. O’Connor will, too. He’ll be sitting with us tonight since none of the others from Putnam Press showed up. I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“No, it’s fine,” Arthur’s father said through a sigh. His eyes found Jesse’s for a moment, his mouth twitching into a scowl, but then his expression changed back into the sort of stern-yet-neutral one he’d been wearing before as he looked back at his son. “In the future, though, I’d advise you to stick with theusualguest list so as not to confuse people.”
“Yes, that’s . . . sensible.”
“Emma’s coming out party will most likely be the next big event for our family, won’t it?”
Arthur looked up at his father through his lashes, keeping his chin low, and hummed, his response not exactly committal. Arthur’s parents smiled very false-looking smiles in return and then started back to their table. It wasn’t lost on Jesse that neither of them had bothered to properly introduce themselves to him, though it wasn’t surprising, either.
Arthur turned to him.
