Chapter 3

My hair was pinned back without a strand out of place. The dress they put me in had a waistline so tight I could barely breathe.

And those dozen-odd studs in my ears?

All removed.

Replaced by a single pair of emerald drops.

When the maid fastened them on, I asked, half-joking: "Any chance you could put something in the other holes too?"

Her hands trembled. "I'm sorry, miss. I'm afraid I can't."

Oh well.

I stepped out. Cameron was waiting at the top of the staircase.

The ground floor blazed with light, an elegant waltz drifting through the air.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I caught something softer in the way Cameron looked at me.

"Finally presentable." His compliment, if you could call it that, was stingy as ever.

No—definitely my imagination.

Cameron extended his hand, inviting me for the opening dance.

The guests naturally formed a circle around the floor, some casting curious glances my way.

Under all those watching eyes, the pressure in my chest swelled.

The corset made it hard to breathe. On top of that, my every word and movement had to meet the standard of elegance.

This was no place for a normal human being.

All I wanted was to lose myself in rock music and gasp for air.

The music began. Cameron led me to the center of the floor, and I followed the tempo, stiff and unnatural.

Our eyes met from time to time. His gaze, as always, gave nothing away.

The whispers rose around us like a tide.

"Look—her footwork is absolutely wooden."

"Her sister carries herself much more like a Pembroke wife."

"Miss Fairfax is... certainly distinctive."

When the music ended, I pulled my hand from Cameron's.

My chest was so tight I wanted to tear the gown open.

I headed for the drinks table, picked up a glass of champagne, and took a long sip.

"Eleanor." Someone called my name from behind.

I turned. Augusta stood there, champagne flute in hand.

Cameron's sister. Miss Pembroke. An aristocrat steeped in arrogance.

She looked me up and down. "That dress suits you tonight."

I raised an eyebrow. "Thank you."

Augusta's smile held as she drifted closer. "Pity, though. Just putting on the right dress doesn't make you right."

I set my glass down. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying," she tilted her chin up slightly, "that you should know your place. You're not cut out to be Mrs. Pembroke."

I ignored the jab and walked away.

Someone's foot shot out from the side, hooking my heel with surgical precision. I didn't even have time to react before I pitched forward.

I hit the floor.

The hall erupted in gasps.

Augusta looked down at me. "Oh dear, Miss Fairfax... you can't even walk properly? How terribly unrefined."

I was about to fire back when Cameron appeared at my side—I hadn't noticed him approach.

He pulled me to my feet. Not roughly, exactly. You might even call it gentlemanly.

Then I heard his low murmur: "Don't make a scene."

I stared at him, lips trembling. "Cameron, she tripped me!"

"Eleanor." He cut me off, voice even. "You've embarrassed yourself enough tonight."

Augusta let out a delicate sigh beside us. "Don't blame her. It's just... who she is."

Who she is.

Born inferior. Born unsuitable. Born to be trained out of herself.

Cecilia was standing behind Cameron, fingers worrying the edge of her skirt.

Augusta turned to her, raising her voice just enough for the crowd to hear: "Cecilia, come. Dance the next one with my brother."

She looked at me again, her smile even warmer now. "After all, in your family... you're the only one who looks the part."

A few stifled laughs rippled through the crowd.

A blush touched Cecilia's cheeks. She reached out and gently placed her hand in Cameron's.

Cameron didn't look back at me once.

The music started again. Cameron and Cecilia stepped onto the floor, their movements in flawless sync.

I stood in the corner, my knee still throbbing.

I picked up my glass and took a hard sip. The bitterness spread from the root of my tongue straight down to my heart.

I watched them spin, draw close, part, and draw close again.

Yes.

What a perfect match.

I shouldn't care.

I'd already given her the engagement.