“Wait.” Katherine motioned us to the side.
Mr. Thom waved as he drove away, back to the other side of the Thames. In a few days, the duke would return us where we belonged when this fairy tale ended.
“Georgina,” Katherine said, “you don’t have to exhibit or do anything that you don’t want to do.”
She glanced at me and grabbed my hand. “If you don’t feel comfortable exhibiting tonight, you don’t have to. We won’t think any less of you. I’ll find the duke and apologize. Perhaps a ball can heal the past. We could all just be friends.”
I knew what she was saying or trying to say, but it wasn’t enough. It was my turn to sacrifice and fix things.
Capturing her gaze in mine, I said, “Make peace with the duke. It will only make things better. But tonight, I’m singing for our mother and father. This is what they always wanted, us shining in the lights. Then I will do what is best for me, for all of us.”
Her eyes reflecting mine, black with golden flecks and tears, she tapped with a lacy handkerchief. “I’m not brave enough, Georgie.”
“Yes, you are.” I gripped her hand. She gave it a little squeeze, and we followed her into the duke’s home.
It was crowded.
The music was loud.
People were talking and eating and carrying goblets of wine.
A juggler passed us in the grand hall. In a red-and-blue-striped costume, he juggled wooden balls. “Welcome!”
He shouted this at all the guests he passed, but the music was so loud it was like a whisper.
Before heading into the drawing room, Katherine stopped at a new framed portrait. “A new watercolor,” she said.
Scarlett came to her side. “Do you recognize the place or the artist?”
“It’s the place I recognized. It looks like Glasgow in the summer. She’s such a great artist.”
She? My sister knew who painted it. This was another of her secrets.
“I like colors.” Lydia twirled, her dress floating above those perfect slippers. “Maybe the duke will let me paint.”
All smiles, but we kept moving.
Then I saw Mark. He sat at a grand pianoforte, one bigger than the beauty in the music room.
He noticed me, smiled, then began a difficult piece by Mozart. Violinists accompanied him. Dancing filled the room.
Behind him, the grand portrait of Dido and Elizabeth hung. Katherine led us to chairs at the rear near a large window that illuminated the garden. Torches lined the path to the maze.
A young blond woman came near the pianoforte and sang some lovely tune, something French.
Mark, as he did with me, followed her pitch and made the notes support and elongate her tone to the greatest effect.
Applause rang when the song ended.
He took her hand and they both bowed.
My stomach tightened, not from watching my music teacher escort this lady to dance but from the hardened gaze of an older man with graying dark hair. A taller, angrier version of Mark Sebastian glared at us, the Wilcoxes, like we didn’t belong.
Chapter 39
GEORGINA—THEFIRSTDANCE
The duke didn’t make his appearance for several hours. He seemed to be one who suffered often from the spring sicknesses.
