Page 40 of To Love a Beast

"Of course." The housekeeper smiled as she helped Callista slide her fingers into the appropriate holes.

"This really is a fairy tale, isn't it?"

Mrs. Potter chuckled. "Tonight is whatever you wish for it to be."

A dangerous thought. For giving herself what she wanted tonight would undoubtedly increase her heartache when the magic ended and reality returned with the sun.

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Tennyson's words filled Callista with almost enough courage to banish her nerves. She turned toward the door and pressed a hand to her fluttering belly. Hoping the poet knew what he was talking about, she set aside the cautions of tomorrow and stepped into the promised wonders of tonight.

"How long does it take to change a dress?" Everett grumbled as he prowled the length of the entryway for what felt like the fiftieth time since Callista had disappeared upstairs.

Was she having second thoughts about accepting the gift? It did stretch the bounds of propriety. In an effort to draw her closer, had he, in fact, pushed her further away?

Lightfoot stepped into his path and clapped his back with his good arm. "Easy there, Griff. You're going to erode the marble with all that pacing. Look." He nodded toward the butler sitting in an armchair, flipping through a copy of Scientific American. "You have Timens fretting about how he's going to repair the ruts in the flooring."

Timens glanced up long enough to raise an eyebrow at Lightfoot's ridiculous claim then went back to reading whatever article had captured his attention.

"I know you've been away from society for five years, but surely you remember how women like to linger over their toilettes before a special event."

"Callis—Miss Rosenfeld is not like society women." Praise the Almighty. "She's not one to fuss over her appearance." And yet, her appearance always stole his breath. Probably because there was no artifice involved. No vanity. No intent to lure or entrap. Just a simple, wholesome beauty that radiated from her kind heart.

"Ah. But you failed to allow for Mrs. Potter." Lightfoot nodded sagely as if his statement had unlocked some vast mystery. It hadn't. "Our matron of the manor sees Miss Rosenfeld as something of a daughter, you know. A young chickadee in need of feminine guidance. She's taken Miss Rosenfeld in hand, mark my words. In fact, you might not even recognize . . ."

Lightfoot's sentence dissolved as his eyes widened, and his jaw went slightly slack. Everett spun to face the staircase and immediately his lungs seized. Nothing so mundane as breathing belonged in the perfection of this moment. The vision descending the stairs could have sprung directly from his dreams. He'd known instinctively that she'd look glorious in yellow, but his heart hadn't been prepared for the reality of Callista Rosenfeld in a ball gown. She wore no jeweled necklace or dangling earbobs, but she didn't lack for accessories. The shy smile curving her full lips enticed like the finest perfume, and the rich depths of her glossy, dark eyes as they sought out his gaze outshone any polished gemstone.

The fabric of her skirt swooshed softly as one step after another brought her closer to him. Her gloved hand floated along the railing, barely grazing the polished wood. He imagined his arm replacing the balustrade, and pinpricks of delight rose along his skin.

Once his lungs recalled the mechanics of respiration, Everett moved forward to meet her at the base of the stairs. He extended his hand, his fingers trembling slightly in anticipation of her touch. Her lashes lowered demurely, and a dusky rose blush kissed her cheeks. Slowly, she placed her fingers in his, and her lashes lifted.

"Thank you for the dress, Everett," she whispered. "It's beautiful."

"You're the beautiful one." He lifted her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her gloved knuckles. "Happy birthday, Callista."

Her shy smile blossomed into a dazzling grin. "The happiest."

His heart thumped with wild abandon, like the hooves of a deer bounding across the prairie and leaping into the air every few strides simply for the joy to be found in soaring. With her hand in his, nothing seemed impossible.

A ponderous voice echoed to Everett's left, making him aware of his butler's presence.

"Shall we go in to dinner, sir?"

Everett never took his gaze from Callista. "May I escort you, my lady?" He held out his arm.

Her fingers found their way into the crook of his elbow as if they knew the path by heart. "I'd be delighted."

So would he, if he could somehow convince her to become his permanent dining companion.

Everett seated Callista in the chair next to his as Timens and Mrs. Potter brought in a bevy of dishes and arranged them around the table. Callista exclaimed over each one, making his housekeeper beam with pleasure.

In keeping with the festive nature of the evening, his staff joined them at the table. A possible miscalculation on his part, since they all seemed determined to relate embarrassing stories from his youth. However, Callista's laughter combined with the fond way she gazed at him after each story—as if she longed to know everything about him—erased his humiliation and left him feeling rather euphoric. It helped that she readily shared stories about her own past, unafraid to poke a little fun at herself as well.

The finest company in New York society could not compare with the gathering at this table. Everett couldn't imagine why he'd ever coveted the superficial pleasure that came with wealth and prestige. Not when there was authentic joy to be had in the company of humble people who cared nothing for appearances, connections, or politics and everything for friendship, encouragement, and genuine amiability. A fellowship that fed the soul.

Dinner slid into dessert and dessert into coffee. Lightfoot and Timens slipped away as scheduled while Mrs. Potter distracted Callista with baking tips. Everett scanned the doorway every few minutes for his valet's signal. When Lightfoot finally appeared and sent him a nod and an annoyingly unsubtle wink, Everett nearly jumped from his chair.

Callista turned to him, tiny lines appearing between her brows. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine." He smiled and ordered himself to cease acting like an inexperienced youth.