The chauffeur opened the car door, and I took a deep breath and stepped out into the evening air. It wasn’t quite warm, but it wasn’t quite cold, either. Pleasant, if I had to describe it—just the right temperature, especially given the storm that had just passed.

There was no sign of it here at the hotel, and I was thankful for that.

There was, however, every sign of a party, and I was not thankful for that.

“Thank you,” Aunt Cat said to the driver. “We’ll see ourselves inside in a moment. My niece needs some air. If you could wait a moment, I’d appreciate it.”

I did not need any air, but I didn’t appear to have a say in the matter.

Aunt Cat took my elbow and guided me off to the side to a sheltered area near to a gate that would lead to the garden area. “Whatever is the matter with you, Gabriella? You cannot attend the party in this mood. I’d rather send you home and inform Victoria that you’re unwell.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated, my voice softer this time. “I just—I suppose I do have a headache, but it’s just stress. I’ll be fine as soon as I’m inside.”

“If you’re unwell, you should go home.”

“Please don’t make me continue to tell you that I’m perfectly okay. I—”

She took hold of my hands, and for a moment, she looked so much like Mum like it made my heart clench. It was utterly ridiculous because she wasn’t related to her at all, but it was the kindness in her eyes that threw me for a moment.

“It’s that boy, isn’t it? The one in the garden.”

I laughed quietly and turned away. “He’s not a boy, and you know full well his name is Miles.”

“Ah, see, that’s where I’ve gotten you. There are several young men who work in the gardens, and you merely identified the most obvious subject for your affections.”

“There are no affections, much less subjects for any of them,” I replied. “And you are a horrible woman to do that to me.”

“You say horrible, I say ‘hoh-reeb-ley,’” Aunt Cat returned, the latter in a terrible French accent that wouldn’t be out of place in a Saturday morning cartoon.

“Never say that again. It sounds dreadful.”

She laughed. “What’s the matter, hm? I will send you home unless you tell me.”

“Look, I just want to go inside, have dinner, show my face, then excuse myself with my headache, okay?” I held up my hands. “Please can we go in?”

“Gabi—”

“Please.”

She sighed, but whatever argument she’d attempted to make died on her tongue when she looked at me. Aunt Cat nodded, acquiescing to my request, and she led me inside the hotel.

To my night of hell.

***

Night of hell had been a bit of a dramatic way to explain it. It hadn’t been enjoyable through dinner, since Eva had managed to wrangle Miles onto her table and had spent the entire dinner speaking to him. Adelaide had glanced over at me several times, but after the third time of our eyes meeting, I’d steadfastly ignored the whole thing.