Her Cinderella Season. Deb Marlowe
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Название: Her Cinderella Season
Автор: Deb Marlowe
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
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It looked to be a happy reunion. Jack watched surreptitiously as they talked. A few of the other guests had glanced over at the chattering threesome, but he thought he was the only one still paying attention when the older lady sobered, laid a gentle hand on Lily’s arm and said something in a soft voice.
Jack stood too far away to hear the words she spoke, but he could see that they were not welcome to Miss Beecham. She paled, instantly and noticeably. All of the joy faded from her face and her hand trembled as she grasped the other woman’s.
Mrs Montague chose that moment to notice her new arrivals. The little tableau broke apart as she greeted the couple heartily and began to pull them forwards towards the seating. Miss Beecham did not follow. Blank disbelief coloured her expression as she stared after the couple. She flashed a glance his way and Jack averted his eyes, pretending to be scanning for a seat. He looked back just in time to see her slipping away into the hall.
Jack’s heart began to pound. She was clearly distressed and probably sought a quiet moment to herself, but this was it—his chance to get her alone and talking about her family. He had to take it. He edged towards the door and followed.
The tinkling and tootling of tuning instruments followed him into the hall. The few people left out there began to move past him, into the music room. Jack could see no sign of the girl. He glanced up the stairs. Several women still moved up and down, seeking or leaving the ladies’retiring room. No, not there. Instinct pointed him instead down the dimly lit hallway leading towards the back of the house.
He found her in the bookroom. bookroom. lamps fought the dark shadows here. Her head bowed, she stood, poised in graceful profile at the window. One hand stretched, holding the heavy curtain aside, but she did not look out. Jack’s breathing quickened. Flickering light, reflected from the torches set up outside, danced like living flames in her hair. He stopped just inside the door. ‘Miss Beecham? Are you all right?’
For a long, silent moment, she did not respond. Then she simply drew a breath and looked back at him, over her shoulder.
Jack, about to step closer, froze. There it was again, in her eyes. Pain, sorrow, loss. It had been the first expression he had seen on her face and it had struck him hard then. Now, when he could so closely contrast it with the joy and animation that had shone from her all evening, it hit him a staggering blow.
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