35
The Darlington Hotel’s masked ball is perfect! The music, the company—savour it, and leave the rest of the world behind.
#HighSociety #NoDramaJustFun #EliteOnly
Online comment by Emmeline Ridgewell
Kate
I hadn’t known what to expect at the ball, but I hadn’t imagined it would feel so ordinary, just in an outrageously fancy and criminally expensive way. Guests ate and drank. People talked, laughed, and danced. The band alternated between playing slow and fast songs. Henry told me that the real party wouldn’t start until the band finished their set, the DJ took over, and everyone was tipsy.
I didn’t feel uncomfortable, but I still felt out of place, even though Henry was doing his best to include me. Every few steps, someone stopped him to talk—and each time, he made a point of introducing me, all the while keeping an arm around my waist or holding my hand. But nobody talked to me, and I had nothing to contribute. The things these people were saying were so far removed from my reality that I couldn’t even pretend I knew what they were talking about.
Henry was saying goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Oldroyd, who had just spent ten minutes telling him about their horse racing track, when a bright voice called out his name.
“Henry! Finally!”
Henry turned towards the voice, but instead of shooting me an apologetic look as he had when the other guests had accosted him, something surprising happened: He smiled. Not the fake, formal smile he had given Mr. and Mrs. Oldroyd and the others, but a genuine one, the kind of smile he’d so far only given me tonight. “Hey! I was wondering where you were hiding.”
“I’ve been looking for you two this entire time,” replied one of the most stunning women I had ever seen, pulling Henry in for a hug. He let go of my hand to hug her back.
She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Her blond hair was styled in an elaborate updo, crowned with a tiara that sparkled as brightly as her midnight-blue dress, its bodice adorned with glittering diamonds. She wasn’t wearing her mask like everyone else, but carried it attached to a short stick, ready to lift it to her face—an elastic strap probably would have ruined her intricate hairstyle.
The woman released Henry before doing something even more astonishing—she looked at me. After an hour of being thoroughly ignored by everyone, the weight of her green eyes on me was a shock. Just as astonishing was the embrace she pulled me into a moment later. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, surprised, and patted her arm. I shot Henry a confused look over her shoulder, and he mouthed a name:Olivia. Oh, it made sense. And now I knew why she looked familiar. I had seen photos of her and Henry together, both online and when I’d passed newsstands.
“I’m a big fan,” Olivia replied, letting me go. “I admire anyone who gets this sourpuss to smile.”
“Sourpuss?” I asked. Sure, Henry was often stressed and frustrated by the situation the hotel was in—understandably so—but I had never thought of him as moody or bad-tempered.
Olivia nodded. “Yes. You can’t imagine how miserable he’s been in the last few months. But since he met you, he’s a changed man.”
“Olivia...” Henry warned through gritted teeth.
“What? It’s the truth.”
He rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”
Olivia ignored him, focussing all her attention on me. “Henry has told me a lot about you.”
“Really?” I knew they were close friends, but close enough for the truth? Or had he fed her the same lie he’d told everyone else? I looked questioningly at Henry.
He nodded. “Olivia knows.”
“Yes. He can’t keep anything from me.”
“Oh, I can.”
“You just keep telling yourself that,” Olivia said. We’d met barely two minutes ago, but I could already see why Henry liked her. She had a radiance that drew people in and instantly made them feel welcome. “I’m really glad you’re here tonight, Kate. And I don’t want to be nosy, but I have a lot of questions. Perhaps we could meet for a coffee sometime?”
I nodded and tucked that annoying strand of hair behind my ear once again. “I’d like that.”
“Can I come?” Henry asked.
“No,” Olivia answered before I could respond. “It’s a girls’ date.”
He glared at her, but she was unfazed. He’d probably given her many of those looks over the years. “You want to talk about me, don’t you?”
