Page 66 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“Ah, ladies, there you are!” Helena came sashaying across the ballroom to meet us, her hands outstretched, the happiness on her face making her look younger. Her gown was a beautiful dusty pink, and she wore it with strings of enormous pearls at her neck and wrists. “Isn’t it wonderful to feel the house come alive like this? Don’t you just love a party?” For once her smile seemed wide and unaffected.

I thought then that I didn’t remember there being a lot of parties at the house when I was a child. There was only ever the odd hunting party, a weekend of gaming and shooting when guests would come from the city. There weren’t balls like this one, full of women in gorgeous gowns. I had never realized that my father didn’t like having visitors.

“We’re gathering in the drawing room for a toast before the guests arrive,” Helena continued, urging us through the room.

“It all looks beautiful, Lady Scott-Holland,” I said, as we passed by the small, raised stage where the orchestra were setting up. Even this was edged in strings of creamy white roses and greenery.

“Yes,” Helena agreed serenely. She knew she had done a good job, knew her hard work meant that Holland Hall shone its brightest.

In the drawing room, the rest of the guests were gathered. I noticed that Stefan’s eyes lit up appreciatively when I walked into the room. Nick’s eyes did something different. Nick’s eyes brushed over me, a light touch that skittered across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Finally, those eyes met mine, inscrutable as ever. He raised the glass in his hand in a silent salute. I supposed that meant that I had passed muster.

“Now that we are all here,” Helena began, and then she stopped, doing a slightly heavy-handed double take. “Oh, no, we’re not all here. Where on earth is Agatha?”

“Here I am, Mama.” Agatha’s sweet voice came from behind us, and we turned as one to see her framed in the doorway.

It was quite the entrance, and I had to admit that Helena and Agatha had staged it beautifully.

Agatha was wearing a pale yellow silk gown, topped with an overlay of beautifully embroidered tulle, a cloud covered in gold threads that caught the light as she moved. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and the yellow of her dress showed off her jewels to their best advantage, a stunning set of perfect pink diamonds.

Only they weren’t her jewels at all. I felt myself clutching the stem of my glass so hard it might have shattered. I caught Cassie’s eye, and the look she gave me was sympathetic.

They weren’t Agatha’s jewels. They were my mother’s.

“Oh dear,” said a voice from over Agatha’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

As one we all turned, and there standing shyly in the doorway was Sophia. No one had even noticed that she was missing. But they noticed her now.

Matilda had slipped off earlier at my request to give Sophia some extra attention and she had done a wonderful job. Sophia’s light brown curls had been braided away from her face and piled up on top of her head. The saffron-coloured silk jacquard of her old dress was lovely and now, cut simply, but fitting her to perfection, the pattern of roses in a slightly darker, metallic thread glinting in the light, it looked like a completely new gown. With its scooped neckline and short sleeves, the bodice did up at the front with a row of silk-covered buttons. The skirt was full and long and trimmed with a lace ruffle. Sophia’s cheeks were pink and her large grey eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Sophia!” her mother exclaimed in a tone that fell somewhere between awe and horror.

“You look wonderful!” Cassie said, stepping forward to admire her dress. I smiled; that was pure kindness, as Cassie couldn’t care less about a ball gown.

“Dashed pretty girl,” the colonel said a bit too loudly to Stefan. “Been hiding her light under a bushel, eh?”

Sophia’s blush deepened and I grinned at her and winked.

“That gown is really very nice, my dear,” the dowager countess said, in softer tones than I had heard her use before. “It reminds me of a favourite of mine when I was your age. I must say the colour suits you marvellously.”

“Lady Sophia.” Jack stepped forward. “You must let me join your legion of admirers and beg the opportunity to escort you through to the ballroom.”

Sophia gratefully accepted the arm he offered, and he bent his head towards hers to say something in a lower voice that I didn’t catch. Whatever it was made Sophia’s cheeks pink.

Agatha stood trembling, white and furious. Her thoughts were written all over her face. To be upstaged … by Sophia, of all people. It seemed hardly possible.

“Well, I don’t think there is anything special about that gown,” she snapped. “I don’t see why everyone’s making such a fuss, simply because she doesn’t look a complete frump like usual.”

There was a shocked silence.

“Agatha, dear.” Helena cast her daughter an anguished look.

Agatha looked about ready to start stamping her feet.

“I think we should head through to the ballroom,” Jack said in neutral tones, his eyes firmly fixed on Sophia. “I’m sure I hear people arriving, and I want to be sure that I secure the first dance with you, Lady Sophia.”

“Gal’s going to have a full dance card tonight,” the colonel agreed in his heartiest voice.

“She certainly will,” the dowager countess said frigidly. “It’s always a pleasure to see such a prettily behaved young lady light up a ballroom.”