“You should learn to rely on others more, Fiona.”
“I rely on you all the time, Lord Gil.”
Before she met him, Fiona had never even attended a party outside of her work for the gallery. Her manners were passable, but her behavior and aristocratic conversation were clearly lacking. The more parties she attended, the more she looked the part, but that was only because she had Giles by her side.
She really had relied on him too much. It made her feel guilty. Giles had helped Fiona more than he could imagine, even if he’d only done so because it was necessary to keep up the charade.
“But you’re still trying to get by on your own,” Giles argued.
“Is that wrong?”
Fiona’s mother was dead, and her father had his hands full managing his barony and caring for sickly Cecelia. Blessed with a healthy mind and body, Fiona had grown up young and developed a habit of doing everything herself. Hans doted on her, but he never crossed the line between them, the one that separated master and servant. Fiona had never even asked Norman for his help, not even when she ought to have.
Now that she thought about it, it occurred to her that ever since she was a little girl, her uncle, Reginald, was the only person she let dote on her. And now that Reginald was free of the confines of high society and enjoying his freewheeling nature to the fullest, it was Fiona who looked after him. “I have to take care of this on my own” was a mantra that had become second nature to her long, long ago…yet when it came to socializing with the nobility, Fiona leaned on Giles for everything.
Thinking back on it, she was shocked by how readily she had accepted his help. But she could not let herself be content to succeed only when Giles was helping her. They had so little time left together, and she wanted to pay him back in what small way she could.
“I wasn’t only talking about social situations,” Giles muttered. “Well, no matter.”
Fiona gave him a quizzical look, but the door to the carriage opened then and cut their conversation short. Giles climbed out of the carriage first and offered Fiona a hand, which she took readily. Then they walked together into the White Palace.
True to its name, the White Palace had floors and walls made mostly of white marble. The tastefully lit interior was stunning no matter which Fiona looked. “Oh my,” she breathed. “Lord Gil, I’m in trouble!”
As it turned out, walking through the palace halls gave Fiona no chance to work on calming her nerves. The furniture and decorations were all exquisite, and everywhere she looked, her eyes were drawn to famous paintings. In fact, she nearly forgot her nerves entirely, but before she could freeze up and gawk, Giles gave her a gentle nudge.
“Glad to see you’re happy,” he said, “but more people have arrived. Let’s move to the great hall before it gets crowded.”
“S-sorry. There’s just no end to the wonders.” Dazed, Fiona tore her eyes away from the painting she’d been most recently fixated on and looked at Giles, who treated her to a soft smile. This smile of his, which had become commonplace to Fiona, turned the heads of the people around them who weren’t used to seeing it. They began to whisper—not all of them quietly enough. Fiona heard some of them appraising her as if she were livestock.
I shouldn’t let what they say get to me, Fiona thought. It wouldn’t be fair to Giles. Nobody could stop a rumor, and in all likelihood, most of the scorn was directed at Giles, not Fiona. As if to shield her from what he had long endured, he remained by Fiona’s side protectively at every party they attended, from the Burleigh party they had first attended as a couple right up to this ball. Fiona needed to stand tall and keep her eyes on the prize.
Besides, it was a waste to worry about outsiders’ insults when she was surrounded by such beauty.
“I recall there being a tapestry and some more large paintings in the other room,” Giles told her.
“Sounds like I won’t want to miss that,” Fiona said as they entered the great hall.
“Yes. But the biggest draw has to be that over there.” Giles pointed, and Fiona’s eyes shot open. There was a lake outside, basking in the glow of the sunset.
The great hall was in the shape of an enormous semicircle that extended out over the lake like a pier. One of the walls was made of thin panes of glass overlooking the lake’s surface. Framed by an ornately decorated windowsill, this immense window was the highlight of the room. It was typically closed off by armored doors and only opened for special occasions such as this. The space was extravagant in every sense of the word.
Beyond the glass, the sun was just kissing the lake’s surface, and the sky glowed red. As the sun began to sink into the lake, it cast glittering rays of gold over the water. This signaled the start of the ball.
“It’s so beautiful,” Fiona sighed.
“It is,” Giles agreed.
The orchestra started up with a song, and the people nearby began to let the rhythm carry them. Turning, Fiona saw the infamous crystal chandelier; it had six sections, some big and some small, and it sparkled in the golden light of the sunset. The floor beneath her was comprised of slabs of milky-white marble, and the hall itself was accented with ornate pillars that had beautiful carvings etched into them. Between the décor and the breathtaking attire adorning all those in attendance, the room was a sight to behold.
It was exactly what a royal ball ought to be.
Fiona gazed around at her surroundings in awe until Giles escorted her to the window. Spotting a waterfowl out on the lake, she turned to him. “Lord Gil, look.”
“Yes, a duck.”
“Doesn’t it have an unusual color?”
“It’s probably because of the sunset.”
They went on like this. Whenever Fiona spotted something that tickled her fancy, she looked up and immediately met Giles’s gaze. In other words, Giles’s eyes were fixed on her.
Oh, Fiona thought, I just don’t know what to think anymore! She felt a strange ache in her heart again, because in truth, Giles’s behavior was not at all strange—for a lover. Fiona admonished herself for letting her emotions show, and somehow, she managed to steady her heart.
“That’s right, Fiona, the dining and dancing areas are separated here,” Giles said. “If you’re thirsty, the other room has—”
“Aha! There you are!” a familiar voice cut in.
Fiona spun around to see the Marchionesses Colet and Heyward scurrying over to them, the very picture of beauty in their glamorous attire.
“Well, Miss Fiona! How remarkably lovely you look tonight,” Miranda continued. “That’s a Michele dress, all right. You look a treat in it.”
“The colors are perfect for you, and that necklace is an excellent match, I’d say,” Marchioness Heyward put in. She and Miranda were both giving Fiona a thorough looking over and nodding in approval. Apparently, Fiona’s attire had received a passing score even though neither woman had a hand in dressing her this time around.
“Thank you, ladies,” Fiona said. “You both look lovely yourselves.”
Marchioness Heyward continued to chat gaily with Fiona, who chimed in with suitable responses when they were required of her. Meanwhile, Miranda pointed at her brother with her fan. “So, Gil. You actually came.”
“I said I would,” Giles pointed out.
“And how many times have you made that promise and broken it, dear brother?”
Giles shrugged irritably and changed the subject. “Where are Father and Mother?”
“Ensnared by somebody in the other room. Well, I’m sure they’ll speak with you later—oh my! Hello there, Rick.”
“Hey there. Good to see you all together,” said Richard’s cheerful voice.
Giles turned around and saw Richard standing there, adorned just as extravagantly as himself. With his lustrous blond hair and turquoise eyes, Richard was handsome as ever.
When Richard met Fiona’s eye, he threw up his arms in exaggerated astonishment. “Oh my heavens, Miss Clayburn, you look utterly ravishing!”
“Lord Russel, a pleasure to see you again,” Fiona demurred.
“Oh, don’t speak as if I’m a stranger! We’re friends, you and I. Won’t you dance with me tonight?”
“Hey, Rick,” Giles said warningly.
“You shouldn’t keep this beautiful young lady all to yourself, Gil.”
Richard was smooth. He could lay it on thick without batting an eye. Fiona graciously thanked him with a smile, but Giles did not even attempt to hide his displeasure. His scowl earned him an elbow from Richard, who seemed thoroughly amused.
Lord Russel is always like this, isn’t he? As the head conspirator of the fake-romance plot, Richard had been apprised of their circumstances down to every last detail. To Fiona, who lived in a state of constant fear that the secret would be exposed, Richard was a valuable ally with whom she could lower her guard. Giles had insisted that Fiona wouldn’t dance with anyone else but him, but only dancing with Giles would draw too much negative attention, and if Fiona needed another dance partner, Richard was just the man.
Fiona sauntered over to Giles, who continued to adamantly reject Richard’s proposal. “Lord Gil,” she said.