Page 52

I swallow.

I should be able to hear those words and believe them. Why is it so difficult?

“Thank you,” I say softly.

She pats my shoulder. “Don’t thank me too much. It goes to my head.”

“I doubt that.”

“Then you don’t know me well enough.”

She steps away and hands me a silver clutch she seems to have produced from thin air.

“Where did that come from?”

She shrugs. “Storage.”

“Hazel.”

“What? Did you expect to carry your lipstick in your hands all night?” She lifts a tube. “Matteo left you some essentials. Lipstick, powder. You’ll need a handkerchief, of course.” She slides one into the clutch. “And your phone.”

“Will it fit?”

She sighs. “Probably not.”

“No big deal. I won’t need it tonight. I doubt Mr. Stanley would appreciate me scrolling on social media while in his company.”

She smiles. “Ready?”

I draw in a deep breath. “Sure.”

Hazel walks with me toward the main staircase. I expect her to leave me at the servants’ stairs, but she doesn’t. When we reach the front of the house, the butler opens the door for me.

“Ms. Hart,” he says. “Your car is here.”

I look beyond to the circular driveway. Sure enough, a sleek black town car waits.

For me.

Nathaniel said he was taking me. Is he in the car? Or did he just mean he’d make sure I got to the gala?

Probably. A wave of disappointment flows through me. What was I thinking, anyway? A man like Nathaniel Vexley has more important things to do than drive a maid to a party.

Hazel nudges me gently. “Go on.”

The driver stands beside the open rear door of the town car, dressed in a dark suit and cap. He gives me a polite nod. “Ms. Hart.”

My throat tightens. “Yes.”

“Good evening.”

“Good evening.”

The driver helps me into the back seat. I sink into the soft leather.

The driver’s voice comes through a small speaker. “There’s champagne in the cooler between you and the partition, Ms. Hart. A flute as well.”

Champagne.