Page 8 of Oddity of the Ton
A smile curled his lips, then he lowered his head and kissed her mouth.
An unfathomable sensation bloomed in her center—a fluttering inside her stomach, followed by a warmth in her bones.
He lifted his hand and caressed her hair, and she closed her eyes, reveling in his touch.
He kissed her again, and she waited, in his arms, as scenes flashed before her mind—the two of them entwined in passion, declaring their love…
The scene faded. Frost crackled in the air, and his body grew cold and hard, icy contempt replacing the softness in his eyes.
“Justlookat you!” His voice, sharp and high-pitched, bore a resemblance to Lady Arabella’s nasal tones.
“My love?”
He threw back his head and laughed, his mouth a gaping black hole. “As if I could loveyou—a creature not fit to be seen!”
He pushed her away, then rose from the bed and strode toward the chamber door. He flung it open to reveal a crowd of onlookers, bedecked in bright silks and twinkling jewels.
“Lookat her!”
They laughed at her ungainly form sprawled on the bed. A crowd of women—beautiful women who knew exactly what to say, and to do, women who were never in want of a partner at a ball, who would never face rejection.
“What would he want with someone likeyou?” A female form stepped forward. Tall, willowy, and exquisitely beautiful.
“Juliette…”
Laughter thickened the air, and giant wings flapped at Eleanor. She raised her hands to fend them off, but invisible chains held them in place. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came.
Then her world shattered in an explosion of light.
“Miss Eleanor!”
The wings retreated, and Eleanor opened her eyes.
She was lying on her bed. But, rather than a mocking crowd, a lone woman stood in the doorway.
“H-Harriet? Is that you?”
“Of course it is, miss.” The maid approached the bed and regarded her with soft brown eyes. “Oh, Miss Eleanor, you look terribly pale. Didn’t you sleep well?”
“Not really.”
“And I’ve gone and woken you up early! Forgive me—I hadn’t meant to disturb you, but it’s such a fine day, and I know you like to draw when it’s sunny outside. Shall I return in an hour, ready for breakfast?”
“No, thank you, Harriet,” Eleanor said. The last thing she wanted was to return to the world she’d just left, where her fears had come to fruition—wherehemocked her as much as everyone else.
“I’ll fetch you some tea.”
“There’s no need…” Eleanor began.
“There’severyneed, miss. A cup of tea, good and hot, will set you right.”
Before Eleanor could protest, Harriet exited the bedchamber.
The last thing Eleanor wanted was to be waited on, but Harriet was always so kind, so eager to help, that she hadn’t the heart to deny her. And if Mother believed Harriet to be anything less than what a lady’s maid ought to be, she’d turn her out.
Harriet knew how to keep garments clean, how to fix Eleanor’s hairstyle so it stayed in place for more than ten minutes, and how to keep the bedchamber in the manner that Mother expected it—neat and tidy. Harriet had an innate ability to know where everything needed to be.
In short, Eleanor didn’t know how she’d survive the tedious little day-to-day rituals of a young lady of Society without Harriet.
