A shock of icy water cascaded into my lap. I gasped and jerked up. My chair crashed behind me.
“Apologies!”
Half-melted cubes of ice clattered to the floor as water rained down my skirt. Genevieve and Tori looked at me in horror.
“Good heavens, what is going on?” The duchess’s voice cut off the gasps and exclamations. I hardly expected her to speak after her silence during Samantha’s episode.
“It was my fault, Your Grace,” the waiter said, bowing at the waist. “An accidental slip of the hand.”
Two spots of color appeared on Duchess Wilhelmina’s face when he straightened. She took a shuddering breath before speaking in an even voice. “Show the young lady to a place she can clean up,” she said. “Then leave at once.”
He bowed again. Beckoning to me, he walked with decided steps across the banquet hall through the arch from which the duchess had entered. I had to trot to catch up, my steps echoing loudly in the dead silence. When we had both safely exited, I finally found my voice.
“Er...Are you sure waiting on the upper class was the right career choice?”
He didn’t turn around fully, but a dimple appeared on his left cheek. “You’re not angry with me?” he said. Nothing about his manner betrayed any reaction to being scolded. His back was straight. There was even a bounce in his steps.
“Not particularly,” I said. Truth be told, I was a little annoyed. Wet skirts didn’t put me in the best of moods, but I wasn’t going to lash out at someone I barely knew. The waiter kept walking as I held the drenched fabric away from me, leaving a trail of water droplets in my wake. “I would appreciate a napkin, though.”
“Here. Take this.” Before I could react, the waiter stripped off his jacket and handed it to me, one hand still holding the water pitcher. It was then I noticed he was a rather handsome fellow with almond eyes, sculpted features, and an easy smile.
I blushed, taking his jacket. “Thank you.”
The waiter stood by as I attempted to blot my dress. The material of his jacket proved to be less than absorbent. Still, I managed to wring my skirts dry until it resembled a mangled bed sheet.
There was an audible silence when the two of us reentered the banquet hall. Time passed agonizingly slowly as the waiter lifted my chair right side up and gestured for me to sit. I shoved his jacket into his hands. He leaned over to set the water pitcher before me.
“Enjoy the banquet, Miss Amarante.”
He winked and departed. I sat for a second to compose myself before looking up. I hoped the exchange went unnoticed, but the curious face of Genevieve, the suggestive one of Tori, and the disapproving look on Samantha’s were clear signs that it hadn’t.
“Heavens. You were flirting with him,” Samantha accused.
“I was not,” I said, affronted.
“Looked like he was flirting with you,” Tori said.
I flushed. “No, he was not.”
“Looked a bit like he was,” Genevieve admitted.
“Nobody was flirting!”
I didn’t realize how loudly I spoke until the words were out of my mouth. A few debutantes looked my way and I ducked my head, praying that the clinking of silverware was enough to cover my voice further along the table. Heavens forbid the duchess heard! Genevieve stifled a laugh.
Samantha looked at me haughtily, her expression not unlike Narcissa’s. “Don’t you know better than to tangle yourself with the likes of him? The whole point of the Season is to find aneligiblematch,” she said.
Tori turned to her with a sharp look. “What are you trying to say? Working class is dirt to you?” she said. Samantha huffed and turned away.
Tori shot her one last glare before addressing me. “It’s a shame nobody here appreciates a working man. If you want to flirt with that waiter, flirt all you want,” Tori said generously.
“Thanks, I suppose,” I said in a strangled voice.
“There will be no flirting in my presence, ladies,” a commanding voice said. I jumped.
The duchess was standing behind me, looking down at us. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. I craned my neck to look at her.
“I-I’m sorry, Your Grace,” I stuttered, startled at being directly addressed by the duchess herself.
