“Seems that the dance has ended, Little Dove.”
“So, it seems,” I said, hating the longing in my voice.
He dropped my hands, cradling them both. “There’s more to life than this. More than what death can offer.” He tilted my chin, iridescent eyes searching mine and boring into my soul.
“What do you mean?” I asked, his hands cool against mine, unnaturally cool, as I traced the lines of his palms. Closing my eyes, I pictured him the way a lover would, in an absolute dreamlike status. I opened my eyes only to find him studying me silently as smooth fingers traced along my jaw.
Leaning in, I let the heat of our bodies and his scent envelop me. The urge to see if his lips also tasted of cloves and spice consumed me as everything fell away. My eyes fluttered closed, allowing myself this one curious thought and indulgence.
“What are you doing?” William encroached, a dull blade cutting into the magic of the evening, slow and torturous.
I snapped my eyes open to find the stranger gone, leaving me holding nothing more than air.
My heart deflated at the thought this might have been all an idle, sick dream created by the stress of my impending doom. Except his coat was still wrapped around my shoulders in the same scents of cloves and spice.
“I asked you a question,” he pressed. “What are you doing out here—alone?”
“Getting fresh air. What else?” I snapped back, fingers curled along the coat reeling in front of the waking dream.
“Don’t think I don’t know.”
“Know what?”
William dropped his charming act. A firm hand wrapped around my arm as he lowered his voice. “You are spoiled goods. That’s the rumor, but it is so often that rumors are true enough to ruin a lady of the ton. If it wasn’t for the friendship of our mothers, there would be far more questions about the rushed marriage out here, pining for someone as if they weren’t the ones that condemned you to hell.”
My heart quickened, pulse thumping in my ear.
“Is this speculation, or is there truth to what you speak?” I said, trying to not let the fear show.
Another waltz started up again, and partygoers spun ferociously. Skirts moved in tandem, and jittery laughter spring from drunken lips.
His gaze sharpened to the coat draped around me. William opened his mouth only to close it as voices loitered out in the cool evening air. “Come inside.The sweetheart toast will be soon.” William turned on his heel and disappeared, leaving me on the balcony alone clutching the cloak from a man I’d convinced myself didn’t exist.
I prepared to head inside to the stifling sight of the crowd, turning to the gardens one last time to see a shadow watching with keen interest from beyond the bloodred roses.
“Care to explain what that was tonight?” Mama roared inside the drawing room of our estate. “People were mentioning a confrontation outside with half the women swearing that they’d seen you dance with a gentleman.”
Exhaustion wore heavy, as did the bruises William left behind against my arm.
I sighed, sinking deep into the cushion. “It was nothing.”
Mama paced about the room, slapping her palm against a fan. “This is serious, Valeria. We cannot afford to make mistakes.”
“The only mistake is promising my hand to that vile creature without my say,” I chirped.
Mama snarled. “Do you know how precarious our situation is?”
“You never let me forget it.”
“I’m serious. One wrong move and we’ll be on the oust of society. Penniless and out of the street. Do youwant to see your Mama a spinster, sewing clothes day to day begging for scraps? Well, do you?!”
“But William Sharpe! There must be someone else!”
“There is no one!” she hissed. “Not one that would ask many questions such as why you have no dowry or the sickly hue of you. Gloria Sharpe is a dear friend of mine and one who is facing the same issue within her own family. There are sacrifices to be made, Valeria.”
The fireplace crackled inside the musty, dim room, a fiery glow casting heavy shadows along the walls whispering in. Within the walls lay unspoken agendas and secrets on the precipice to expose us all.
I reclined back into the old chair, blood bubbling from my lungs and into white cloth, staining innocence in an all-familiar color.
