Chapter 15 #2
Deborah let out a weak laugh as they came to stand near one of the columns of the ballroom that stood close to one of the entrances.
She leaned her back into it and closed her eyes, inhaling the flower-scented air that drifted in through the open doors.
When she opened her eyes, she found Cedric standing directly in front of her, blocking the view of any curious passersby.
His usual smirk was still affixed firmly to his handsome face, but annoyance glittered in his eyes.
“I am sorry I am not as adept at handling the ton as you are,” she offered, thinking the annoyance was for her.
Cedric’s brows flew up, as if he were startled.
“You should not have to be adept,” he replied, sweeping his gaze around them. “I thought we were supposed to be the most sophisticated society in the entire world. Yet it seems no one is above getting a shot in whenever they can. Vultures. The lot of them.”
Deborah gave him a tired smile, and he gave her a half-smile as his eyes shone with a hint of worry.
“What do you need?” He asked. “Brandy? Wine? Something stronger?”
“I think I just need a moment to myself,” Deborah replied. “Would you mind?”
Cedric looked unsure, but after a moment, he nodded his head.
“I spotted my friend Godric by the bar. He despises society more than I do, so I should check in on him anyway. When you need me, you can find me there.”
Cedric then reached for her hand, and a tingle moved up her arm as he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.
“I am not far,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
Once he dropped her hand and turned away, Deborah drew her hand to her chest and rubbed the spot where he had kissed; those tingles were still moving up and down her arm.
She absent-mindedly continued to rub the spot as she turned back to the ball, leaning her shoulder against the column as she looked over the many faces and fine, expensive gowns.
This was a world that she had learned to be without.
One that had cast her and her family out, and despite telling herself over and over again that she deserved to be there, she could not help but feel as if she should not be.
Hurt laced through her as she recalled the past. How those right in front of her had called Hester horrid names.
How some had likely even thrown those eggs at their windows.
Her stomach turned sour as she took in their finery and beauty, thinking that all of them were twisted and ugly on the inside and stark opposites to their outward appearance.
Especially her, Deborah thought, her eyes landing on the woman she had heard being called “The Lady of the Bloom.” She was wearing a particularly outlandish gown constructed of flowers.
It was gaudy and loud, but it still looked more like a piece of art than something someone would wear.
The more beautiful the gown, the uglier the heart, no doubt, she mused, narrowing her eyes to get a better look.
Suddenly, relief and joy flooded through her, and she let out a gasping laugh. Beneath the layers of cosmetics on the young woman’s face, she recognized those particular brown eyes, and without a thought, she began moving through the crowd.
“Beatrice?” She breathed, drawing closer to the woman.
“Beatrice!” She said louder, and as the woman turned, a wide smile spread across her face, and the two rushed to one another. Deborah let out a laugh as they gripped one another’s arms and squealed with delight.
“Deborah! You made it out!” Beatrice exclaimed, her happiness apparent.
“So did you,” Deborah sighed, raking her eyes down the young woman who had been so frightened at the auction.
“And not as a mistress?” She added with a hopeful tone.
Beatrice shook her head, her smile still fixed to her face.
You look remarkable,” Beatrice praised.
“As do you,” Deborah replied readily. “I had heard rumors of a mysterious “Lady of the Bloom” attending the party, but I never would have guessed it was you. Oh, and this discovery makes me so very happy!”
Beatrice’s gratitude was apparent in her brilliant smile.
“It is because of your advice that I am so,” Beatrice said, her tone low so only the two of them could hear. “I did as you said and won the bid of a gentleman. The situation is…interesting but not at all unseemly. Come, I shall introduce you.”
As Beatrice tugged at Deborah’s hand, a chill moved up her spine, as if a frigid hand had touched her neck.
She turned, slowly, and her happiness faded as her eyes landed on Sylvester Fairborne.
Disgust and hatred rose in her with great force, causing her stomach to tie in knots.
He looked refined and handsome as he always had, walking through the crowd untouched by all the ugliness he’d created for Hester.
“Deborah?” Beatrice whispered, tugging at her hand again.
“I have to go,” Deborah whispered, letting go of Beatrice. She gave her a quick apologetic look as she stepped back, not wanting to lose sight of Sylvester.
“I am so happy I saw you. Be well, Beatrice,” she added, and before Beatrice could reply, Deborah turned and disappeared into the crowd, looking for Sylvester.
For a moment, her heart sank as she was lost in the sea of finely dressed socialites, but as she neared the dance floor, she saw him again, bowing to a young woman and offering her his hand for a dance.
The gala, the people, all faded away as Deborah stared at him.
There was nothing left but her, him, and the vengeance she was about to finally receive.
Reaching up, she grasped the handle of the dagger hidden in her hair and slid it free.
The jewels cut into her palm with the tightness of her grip, but it did not matter.
It was a small price to pay for what she was about to do.
As she stepped closer, Sylvester turned his back to her, clearly unaware of his fate, and she raised the dagger.
All she could see, all she could think, was how wonderful it was going to feel when she sank the blade into his back.
Then, suddenly, a hand was wrapped around hers, wrenching the dagger away, and strong arms banded around her waist as she was pulled into a firm chest.
“Murder is not a good look for you, darling,” Cedric whispered into her ear. “What do you say we dance instead?”
Rage and indignation had her whirling around and ready to demand her dagger back, but before she could say or do anything, Cedric took both her hands in his and twirled her onto the dance floor.