Page 56 of The Maid's Secret

I wandered over to a group of boys from school, all of them standing in a corner, Percival in the middle. They looked uncomfortable in their tuxedos, like penguins awkward out of water.

“Welcome to Gray Manor,” I said by way of greeting. “You’re supposed to ask the girls to dance now.” I gestured to a group of young ladies on the other side of the room.

Percival stared at me. “My friends don’t know how to dance,” he said, pointing a thumb at his posse as if he himself were Fred Astaire.

“You all have feet, don’t you?” I asked. “And ears?”

“I’ll show them how it’s done,” I heard, and when I turned, John was behind me, a head taller than the other boys, hand extended. “Flora, may I have this dance?”

I knew if my parents saw me opening the dance with the butler’s son, they’d be less than pleased, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I took John’s hand and let him lead me to the middle of the ballroom floor. We put our arms around each other, and our feet fell intoperfect rhythm for the very first time. It was so effortless and easy, Molly. We flowed as if his body was an extension of mine.

“Who taught you how to dance?” I asked, in awe that he was so fine-footed on the floor.

“My father,” he answered. “He hasn’t danced in ages, not since my mother died.” He looked down at his feet, and for a moment he lost his lead.

I gripped his hand tighter, and his head veered up, those brooding, deep eyes meeting mine. I tell you, Molly, that man was a marvel. Every step with him came easily. My arms fit into his like lock and key. And yet I took it all for granted.

“Are you nervous about the exams?” he asked as we whirled around the floor. The finals were fast approaching, and our fates hung in the balance.

“A little,” I admitted. “I’ve been studying hard, but you heard the headmaster. The exams are tough. I may not pass.”

“Of course you’ll pass,” he replied. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. And the most beautiful, too…even if I get tongue-tied trying to tell you so.”

I was the one to look away then, fearing he might notice the blush rising up my chest and coloring my cheeks. “You’re very…smart yourself,” I replied as the ballad came to an end.

We stood still in the middle of the ballroom, and I felt him lean in, perhaps to whisper something in my ear, but then my mother’s voice at the front of the room drew my attention.

“They’re here!” she called out as several heads turned.

In the arched entry, my parents were greeting three late arrivals. One was Magnus Braun, in a daring white dinner jacket and black tuxedo trousers, a red rose boutonniere over his heart. As he shook my father’s hand, he clapped Papa on the back so loudly, the sound ricocheted through the room.

Beside Magnus was a willowy blonde about my mother’s age,wearing a royal blue empire gown—Mrs.Braun, no doubt. She held the arm of a much younger man wearing a finely tailored, modern suit—metallic sharkskin—with no tie at all, and a white shirt, three buttons undone, revealing an expanse of tanned chest beneath. He, too, had an audacious red rose as a boutonniere. Blond hair in a pompadour quiff, the front left long like James Dean’s; one errant lock fell in his face, and he swept it back casually with the palm of his hand. As he did, his eyes met mine—icy blue, like the eyes of a wolverine.

I watched as Magnus leaned in and whispered something to his son. Then the two of them were smiling and looking my way. Magnus waved. It took me a moment to wave back. Mama’s black-gloved hand beckoned me over, her eyes conveying that I should make my way there urgently.

“Excuse me, John,” I said. “My parents are calling.”

“So I see,” he said, then he looked down at his feet.

I made my way to the young man in the threshold. I’d never seen a man like him in real life. He looked like a movie star who’d just stepped off the silver screen into our staid manor home.

“There she is,” Magnus said as I approached.

So stricken was I by the sight of his son, I could barely peel my eyes off him.

“Flora, please welcome our special guests,” Papa said as he touched my elbow.

“Good evening, Mr.Braun,” I managed to say.

“This is the rogue son I was telling you about, Algernon,” Magnus explained as if I hadn’t already noticed his boy, as if the entire room hadn’t noticed him.

I curtsied as I offered my hand.

“Don’t bow too low or I might get used to it,” Algernon replied. He laughed then, and so did I. Then he pushed that churlish shock of long blond hair out of his eyes, grabbed my hand, and kissed it just as John had earlier, though he lingered longer. I was painfully aware that all eyes were on me.

“Aren’t you going to scold him?” I whispered to Mama. “Just like you did with the last young man who kissed my hand?”

“Scold him?” she replied, fanning herself flirtatiously with one black-gloved hand. “On the contrary, I was going to offer my hand next,” she said, and the guests in our midst laughed.

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