Chapter 35 #2
We reached the bar, a dark wooden counter with a mirrored back wall lined with expensive-looking bottles.
The lighting in this part of the ballroom was dim, casting a warm, golden glow.
Behind the counter, bartenders worked tirelessly, juggling bottles and tossing shiny metal shakers into the air to entertain the guests as they waited for their drinks.
Although Henry and I stood at the side of the bar, we were surrounded by so many people that we ended up pressed against each other again, just like we had been on the dance floor.
“So what went wrong?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
“I love Olivia, but she’s way too involved in all this,” he replied, and gestured around the ballroom.
I raised my eyebrows behind my mask. “And you’re not?”
“Sure, but not like she is. I’m a tiny part of this world, while this world is a huge part of her.
If that makes sense.” I nodded. “Olivia would do anything to belong. When we were dating, we argued more than we ever had before. Mostly about her desperate need to attend events like this just to be seen—whereas I just wanted to lie on the sofa and cuddle.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Cute.”
Henry shot me a sharp look. “Did you just call me ‘cute’?”
Feeling momentarily bold, I stood on my tiptoes, bringing our faces close together. Lowering my voice so only Henry could hear, I said, “Yes, and there’s nothing you can do about it, Mr. Darlington.”
“Maybe I don’t want to, Miss Hamilton.” Henry’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.
I shivered, and goose bumps prickled my arms. With his free hand, he tucked a rebellious strand of hair behind my ear, his gloved fingertips gently grazing my cheek. He looked at my mouth with smouldering eyes. A burning heat spread through me, and a jolt of deep longing tightened in my chest.
“Henry! It’s so good to see you!”
“Fuck,” Henry muttered. Regret flashed across his face, as if he wished he’d acted faster, and he squeezed his eyes shut. It seemed to pain him to let me go. His hand slipped from my cheek, but even without his touch, the spot where his fingers had been still tingled.
I sighed, trying not to sound too disappointed. “I think I’ll freshen up,” I said. I couldn’t take another conversation about racetracks, estates, stocks, or the planned ski trip to Saint Moritz.
“Good idea. I’ll wait for you here,” Henry replied, before turning his attention to the man who had interrupted us. I smiled at him as I left, even while secretly cursing him.
To my surprise, there wasn’t a queue for the restroom.
The room was empty aside from a woman standing at the sink, touching up her makeup.
In the stall, I lifted my dress, peeled down the tights Grace had made me wear, despite the dress being floor-length, and gathered the silky material around my hips.
As I peed, I heard the woman leave the room, and two others entered.
They didn’t go into the cubicles, but lingered by the sinks.
I regretted not bringing Grace’s makeup with me.
Powdering my nose wouldn’t have hurt. Maybe I could borrow some from the women.
I pulled the tights back up, adjusted my dress, and was about to flush when they started talking.
“I still can’t get over the fact that Henry is here with his cleaning lady,” one of them said.
I froze.
“I heard she’s Richard’s crisis manager.”
“No, that’s Vivian Edwards. Henry’s date is a cleaner.”
I shifted as quietly as I could, leaning forward to press my face to the crack between the door and frame, hoping to catch a glimpse of the two women. I could only make out vague figures—one of them wore a red dress, the other a blue one.
“You mean the girl from the photos?” the one in the blue dress asked.
“Yeah, the one wearing the tatty leather jacket,” the woman in the red dress said, her voice dripping with disdain, as if she’d rather walk naked through London than wear my jacket.
“I don’t get why Henry’s hanging out with her.
She’s not even particularly pretty. And have you seen her hair?
It looks like she cut it herself with kids’ scissors. ”
The woman in the blue dress shrugged and rifled through her makeup bag. “Perhaps she’s amazing in bed and lets him do all kinds of really kinky stuff to her. I can totally imagine Henry being into that kind of thing.”
“At least in bed, she wouldn’t be wearing that cheap dress. It looks like she fished it out of some old charity shop donation bin. Isn’t she embarrassed? She’s humiliating Henry as much as herself.”
My stomach clenched. I had felt pretty in my dress—until now.
Now I felt foolish, like a kid playing dress-up.
I had genuinely thought I looked elegant, but I’d clearly been wrong.
Were the other guests thinking the same?
Did they think my dress was fit for the bin?
Were they secretly wrinkling their noses behind their masks, just like Mrs. Darlington? The thought made me feel sick.
“Totally. It’s as cheap as it gets. But honestly? I bet it’s all for show, to distract from Richard. I can’t imagine Henry seriously being interested in someone like her. He’s way out of her league.”
My hands started shaking, and my heart fluttered as though it wanted to escape—to take off and fly away.
I wished I didn’t care about what the two women were saying about me and that I could brush it off like all the insults people had thrown at me when I was homeless.
But I did care. The women’s words confirmed what I had felt time and time again since arriving at the hotel: I didn’t belong here, and I would never be good enough for someone like Henry.
Everyone knew it. These women. Henry’s parents.
And probably every single guest at this ball.
Sooner or later, Henry would also see how worthless I was and that I had nothing to offer him.
“Perhaps you should give him another shot, Em,” the woman in the red dress suggested.
Em scoffed and put her makeup back in her purse. “Definitely not. I might have considered it before tonight, but it would just be humiliating now that everyone has seen how low the bar is. I’m not that desperate.”
Her friend sniggered. “You could be the woman who makes a respectable man of him again. A real phoenix-from-the-ashes story.”
“No, thanks. That ship has sailed. Perhaps I’ll try my luck with . . .” The rest of her sentence was lost as the bathroom door swung shut behind them, cutting off their voices.
The room fell silent.
The only sounds were the faint hum of the ventilation and my shaky breathing.
My eyes stung. I tried desperately to keep it together.
I didn’t want to cry. Not over this. But stopping the tears was incredibly hard.
I had truly believed I could fit in for one evening, that I could pretend to be part of this glamorous world.
Yet while I had felt like a princess in Henry’s arms, to everyone else, I was just a dirty imposter. How could I have been so naive?