Page 57 of The Maid's Secret

“Audrey,” said Papa, “if you require a dashing gentleman to fawn over you, all you had to do was ask.” Papa, in a gesture so unlike him, grabbed Mama’s hand and dramatically kissed it as the Brauns clapped their approval.

A moment later, the woman on Algernon’s arm addressed me. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing,” she said.

“Flora, meet my mother,” Algernon said.

“How do you do, Mrs.Braun?”

“Oh, please. I’m not that old. Call me Priscilla. Even my son does.”

“Actually, I call you Prissy,” said Algernon with a gentle shove of her arm.

“Now, now. Behave,” his mother urged.

“Hardly my strong suit,” her son replied.

“Reginald, how would you feel if my son asked your daughter to dance?”

“Flora would be delighted!” my mother answered as she pushed me forward.

“Shall we?” said Algernon, releasing his mother’s arm and taking mine. The crooner launched into “Unforgettable” as the young Mr.Braun led me onto the ballroom floor.

“So you’re Flora,” Algernon said once we’d begun to dance. He drew me close, so close I could smell the bergamot on his neck. “I’ve heard about you and your family from my dad. I’m relieved you don’t live up to your name.”

I had no idea what he meant, so I asked.

“With a last name like Gray, I’d pictured plain and boring. I figured Mags was coupling me up with a brown bagger like those ones over there.”

He nodded to the clique of young ladies in the corner, all wearing pretty pastel gowns and staring at me with such envy that I ignored the insult Algernon had just hurled their way and found myself reveling in the fact thatIhad been deemed worthy, a cut above the rest, according to this alluring and daring young man.

“My dad says you’re more than just pretty. He claims you’re whip smart. I like whip smart,” he said, whispering the last part so close to my ear that the words seeped in like a sweet, hypnotic potion.

“I’m studying hard,” I said. “I’m hoping to go to university, but I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“You definitely have what it takes,” he said as his icy blue eyes looked me up and down. “What are you studying?”

“Literature,” I answered. “I love to read.”

“What a coincidence. I love to be read to. In fact, I think I could lie in your lap all day drinking wine and listening to your voice. You should come to Saint-Tropez later this summer. We can frolic on my dad’s yacht. It’s my last fling before Mags chains me to the family firm.”

Mags. Prissy. Everything about this young man was so modern and refreshing—exactly opposite my parents’ stale and staid conventions. I looked over to where Mama and Papa stood on the edge of the dance floor with Algernon’s parents. All of them now had drinks in their hands, and Papa was beaming as he watched us. Mama raised her champagne flute my way and gave me a discreet thumbs-up with her other hand. The look of pride in her eyes was one I’d seen only once and recently—on the day of the summit, right after Magnus Braun and his men left.

I turned to Algernon. “You call your parents by their first names,” I said. “And you didn’t wear a tie to the ball.”

“A tie? They’re nooses in disguise. Anyhow, this is how we swing in Saint-Tropez. The girls don’t seem to mind. Do you like it?” he asked, getting so close to my mouth that if I moved an inch, his lips would have met mine.

“I do,” I said. “I like it very much.”

And Molly, when I said that, I spoke the truth. In that moment, it was like I was suddenly possessed—mesmerized by Algernon’s swagger and glamour, dazzled by his movie-star looks and emboldened by my parents’ obvious approval. I felt overcome with a dizzying rapture for this stranger who’d just swept me off my feet.

As the song ended, Algernon closed the gap between us. My chest pressed against his, and our lips met. It was completely unheard of—to kiss a girl on the lips on the ballroom floor—but I knew my parents wouldn’t dare disapprove. When Algernon drew away, all I wanted was more.

The band struck up a rock ’n’ roll number by that Elvis fellow who my parents said was corrupting youth and the airwaves.

“Thanks for the dance,” Algernon said. “If I don’t take a turn with a few of them, there’ll be hell to pay,” he added, pointing to the group of young ladies in the corner. “But I’ll be thinking of you the whole time, Flora. Catch you later?”

“I look forward to it,” I replied.

He strode away then, wordlessly taking the hand of a girl in a lilac gown and leading her into a jive on the dance floor. Soon enough, the entire room filled with young couples gyrating to the beat. Magnus and Priscilla took to the floor and were twisting while my parents watched from the sidelines, my father grinning stoically and my mother clapping along awkwardly with her black-gloved hands.

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