Page 34 of The Beautiful Ones

“Then I have made a fortunate guess.”

Beneath the table, Cécile reached back and touched my wrist. Her fingers were warm. The small gesture steadied me, but Adrian watched it with an unreadable expression.

From the corridor came the sound of a clock beginning to strike.

Once.

The note hung in the air long enough to become uncomfortable.

Then the clock struck a second time, weakly, as though the mechanism had lost the strength to continue.

“It is not two,” Lavinia whispered.

“No,” Adrian said. “It is not.”

Somewhere upstairs, another clock answered with a single broken chime. Then both fell silent.

Madame Lebon rose.

“Shall we have music in the drawing room?”

Her voice was steady, but the diamonds at her ears trembled.

The company stood with a scraping of chairs. Nicholas immediately offered his arm to Lavinia, leaving Augusta offended and Reuben furious. Octavia took Madame's arm as if they were already intimate friends. Lucien and Philip followed Nicholas, still arguing about the gray stallion.

Cécile slipped Adrian's card into her sleeve.

As she passed the pianoforte in the adjoining room, her hand brushed its polished rosewood edge. Adrian followed her gaze to the instrument.

Something silent passed between them.

I did not like the anticipation I saw in his face.

Before I could follow Cécile, Dinah caught my arm.

“Hot water for the blue room,” she said. “Mr. Adrian's washstand.”

I looked toward the drawing room. Cécile had taken her place at the pianoforte. Adrian stood beside the tall velvet curtains, watching her lift the fallboard from the keys.

“Must it be me?”

Dinah studied my face.

“Go straight there and come straight back.”

I took the copper pitcher from the kitchen maid and climbed the dark back staircase, its warmth pressed between my palms.

Behind me, the first notes of Cécile's music entered the house.

Above me, the clocks remained silent.

The gallery in the west wing was pitch-black and noticeably colder than the rest of the house. The oppressive July humidity seemed to die away as I approached the door at the far end.

The door to the blue room stood slightly ajar. A faint, pale light spilled out onto the floorboards.

I pushed the door open with my elbow. “Mr. Fairhaven? I have brought your—”

The words died in my throat.