Page 96 of Sweet Silver Bells
He had been so focused on Olivia that he hadn’t stopped to think of what seeing this room during an event might do to him, as he saw the ghost of Sarah swaying back and forth in her white princess gown, laughing and begging him to dance.
I’ve said goodbye.
He pushed the guilt down, though it wouldn’t leave properly. He adjusted the band of his watch uncomfortably.
“This is where it happened,” Olivia whispered to him.
Indeed, it was, for both of them.
“I cannot promise I won’t step on your feet,” Hunter said, offering his hand with a crooked, self-deprecating smile. “But I feel it’s my solemn duty to ask you to dance.”
Olivia tilted her head, gaze shimmering with mischief beneath the candlelight. “A duty? My, how terribly noble. Tell me, Mr. Gunnan, do you often offer yourself as tribute to ballroom casualties?”
He smirked, bowing slightly. “Only to the most dangerous women.”
“Then you ought to be more careful,” she said, placing her hand in his. “I’ve been known to leave a mark.”
As he guided her onto the floor, she moved like mist, graceful, impossible to hold. “You dance like someone with something to prove,” she said, eyes twinkling as she floated beside him.
“I probably do,” he murmured. “I haven’t done this since the wedding, and before that, when Mother pushed me into ballroom lessons when I was a teen. How about yourself?”
“Oh, I dance to keep the ghosts in their place,” she replied lightly, though her gaze flicked toward the grand chandelier as if watching something invisible sway above them. “They tend to grow bold when the violins begin.”
Hunter studied her face, his grin fading. “You alright?”
She gave a small smile, too perfect to be real. “Do I appear otherwise?”
“You’re quiet. Even for you.”
Her gaze drifted over the polished floors, the gilded crown molding, the shadows cast by flickering candlelight. “This room is a mirror. It remembers things I’d rather not see.”
“Then let’s leave,” he said immediately. “We can leave now.”
Olivia turned to him slowly, her voice a murmur, almost a laugh. “And miss all the fun? I’ve grown rather fond of my ghosts, you know. We’ve shared so many seasons together.”
Hunter’s grip on her waist tightened slightly. “You shouldn’t have to keep them company.”
She looked up at him then, and for a moment, her mask slipped. “At least ghosts answer back.”
He stopped moving. The room spun gently without them.
“Talk to me,” he said. “Don’t make me guess.”
Her lips curved into a soft, strange smile. “Isn’t it a bit romantic, though? All this glitter and memory. The illusion of joy stitched over something broken. Like lace over a wound.”
“Don’t do that,” Hunter said, voice low. “Don’t make it poetry so that it hurts less.”
Her chin lifted. “I wasn’t. Some things are beautiful because they hurt.”
Hunter brushed a gloved thumb along her cheek, steady and tender. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”
For a breath, she just looked at him—like he was something wild she didn’t know how to hold. Then, quietly, “You don’t know what it is to be from a place that loved you once, and looks right through you now.”
“Then tell me,” he said. “Make me see you.”
Olivia’s voice softened, formal and haunting. “This room watched me become someone I no longer recognized. I stoodhere in silk and silence while everything I loved unravelled beneath crystal chandeliers. And unfortunately, everyone noticed.”
He stepped closer. “Is it better if they didn’t?”
