Chapter 8: A Few Words

Jessamine dressed me for the Kingsland Foundation dinner and refused to let me see the mirror until she was done.

"Red," she said, holding up the gown. "You wore this to the Christmas party two years ago, and a man dropped his drink."

"I don't remember."

"I do. Put it on."

It was dark red velvet and strapless, and it fit perfectly.

She pinned my hair up and left one curl loose, and she put my mother's moon necklace in the hollow of my throat.

"Don't do anything clever," she said at the door.

"I'm not going to do anything."

"That's exactly what you'd say before doing something clever."

Stefan was waiting in the hall in a black tux.

He saw me and stopped, and the whole length of his body went very still.

"Say something," I said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm trying to stay in the car," he said, and held out his arm.

The ballroom was gold and crystal, with four hundred guests at round tables.

At the head table, Sybil rose in silver silk, with elbow-length silver gloves, and kissed both my cheeks.

"My darling girl. You look like a queen."

"Thank you, Sybil."

"I've put you beside me. Stefan's on your other side, of course."

She sat me down with her hand on my shoulder.

The dinner was long, and the wine kept coming.

I watched the room look at me and look away, and heard my name hissed across tables.

Stefan said nothing, and his knee pressed mine under the cloth.

It didn't move, and neither did I.

The plates were cleared.

Sybil tapped her glass with a spoon.

"Friends," she said. "Before we thank our sponsors, there's one more person who has something to say. Lydia?"

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