The Carringtons went first. Once they disappeared around the side of the house, everyone slowly rose to their feet. I stalled for as long as I could and stayed towards the back. Mr. Whitlock waited for everyone to clear the front yard and I noticed that he did not seem happy to see me. I could stall no longer and began following the crowd.

The backyard was beautiful. Lighted torches had been placed around the perimeter, giving it a soft glow. Rows of chairs had been arranged on the grass, with the lake spreading out before them. People were settling in, pleasantly chatting. In the water, there were two floating platforms, where the silhouettes of two men were at work. The cooks and waiters that had been hired for the celebration were coming out of the house to watch the fireworks. The men on the platform gave a signal and Mr. Whitlock began extinguishing the torches, making it darker. I tried to spot Thomas, but everyone had their backs to me and the darkness made it difficult to identify anyone.

The last torch was extinguished and everyone held their breath. Suddenly, a rocket shot upwards from one of the platforms and burst into a red, flowering ball. The crowd gasped and clapped with delight. More fireworks went up, eliciting more cheers.

This was my chance.

A few of the waiters who had been working in the front yard were rushing around the side of the house. I wished to avoid them, so I quietly made my way through the open back door and slipped into the house, unnoticed. I went through the dining room and living room. The concussion from the fireworks shook the walls. I was almost to the front door when suddenly, I was grabbed and pulled into the study. I was shoved up against the wall and lips pressed against mine. I was shocked, then terrified, and then I saw his eyes as he pulled away. He delighted in my expression and kissed me, again. This time, I returned his kiss. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced. His hands passed over my dress and under. He pulled away, once more.

“I thought you were ignoring me,” I said, breathlessly.

“I had to. My wife is suspicious.”

We kissed again.

“Why is she suspicious?”

He smiled. “History.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant but stopped caring when he kissed me again.

“After the celebration,” he said, “she’ll be going back to Boston. Then, we can—”

“Father?” a small voice asked.

He forcefully shoved me against the wall so that I was hidden behind the door. He was pressing so hard, I couldn’t breathe. Through the crack of the open door and the doorframe, I could see his daughter, standing in the living room, looking into the study.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled.