As the evening flowed, so did the champagne and the conversation. Hannah listened to the music and watched the dancers. There was comfort in being on the periphery of society. She could enjoy events as an observer without having the eyes of everyone upon her. In that regard she pitied the newly engaged woman, as every aspect of her person was minutely scrutinised. It reminded her of the samples her father placed on glass and peered at under his microscope.
Yet Elizabeth shone all the brighter with the attention and outsparkled the diamonds at her throat and earlobes. She took to the floor with her duke and everyone remarked upon how elegant and attractive they were as a couple. Francis Voss, the Duke of Harden, possessed the same blond colouring as his fiancée. While not a tall man, he had straight limbs and a finely hewn face with open, honest blue eyes. Overall, his countenance made women, both young and old, sigh as he passed.
Lizzie was besotted with her intended and would make a fine duchess. Hannah had no doubt her friend would mature into the sort of matron that others looked up to and sought out for her patronage.
Just watching them, it was obvious it was a love match and not one orchestrated by Lizzie’s parents. The couple had eyes for no one but each other, and they could have been dancing alone and not in a crowded ballroom. The duke adored his fiancée and a pang shot through Hannah’s chest. What would it be like, to have a man look at you like that and to know there was someone in the world who loved you in such a manner?
A dark shadow flowed across Hannah’s line of sight and she blinked. A wraith stalked the edges of the ballroom, marring the happy atmosphere with a mist of gloom. A shiver ran over her skin and she wondered if the man was really there, or if it were a nightmare apparition conjured by a mage. Perhaps she should have asked her mother to set wards around the mansion to ensure no demons or foul magic ruined the evening.
“I see Viscount Wycliff darkens our evening with his foul presence,” the heavily veiled woman beside her whispered.
Hannah recognised the outline and voice of the late Lady Albright. When her pulse had stopped, her husband had set her aside to subsist on the charity of others. Because noble ladies still walked among them, society had had to invent new rules to cope with the dead. The deceased Lady Albright was referred to as the late so as not to confuse her with the current Lady Albright.
“Who is he?” Hannah asked. She had never heard of the man, and was relieved that he was flesh and blood and not an evil spirit come to steal Lizzie’s happiness.
The Afflicted woman leaned closer to Hannah and she caught the faint whiff of cloves, used to disguise the sweet rot that consumed her flesh. “Once, they were a fine family, but no more. His father was the worst kind of wastrel and money ran through his fingers as though it were water. Jonas Balfour is now the Viscount Wycliff but lacks any fortune to sustain the title.”
“A fortune is not the only thing he lacks,” a matron in puce silk interjected. “Manners also escape him. With his abominable rudeness, he scared off the only prospects who might have allowed him to rebuild his estate. His only hope now is to find some oblivious woman who is equally rude, like a title-hunting American heiress.”
The women murmured agreement and then fell silent as a black gaze swept over them. Had he heard them from across the room? Impossible.
Hannah looked away, choosing instead to study a floral arrangement on the side table next to her chair. She counted herself fortunate that she was not the sort of woman to blush, but why didn’t the viscount look away? She wanted a man to look at her with a heated stare, not one that seemed filled with scorn and, from the way his brows had drawn together, disapproval.
“Hannah, there you are.” Lady Loburn swooped in, like the hawk who had spotted the mouse hiding in the long grass. “Would you fetch your mother’s surprise from the marquess’s study for me? I left it just inside the door.”
“Of course.” Hannah was relieved to escape the ballroom and the dark presence who absorbed all happiness with a look.
As she passed through the assembly, she brushed by the group clustered around Lord Albright and the current Lady Albright. Glances were cast toward the black veiled form of his previous wife, still talking to the other matrons. Hannah hoped there wasn’t going to be a scene. Society loved to feast on the spectacle when the legally widowed lord paraded his young wife in front of his deceased, but still ambulatory, former wife.
The marquess’s study was not far from the ballroom and Hannah headed along the hallway toward the front of the house. As she passed the parlour door, a sob caught her attention. She peered through the open door and saw a young woman sitting on a chaise, her shoulders heaving as she wept.
Unable to walk by a woman in distress, Hannah stepped inside. “Miss? Is everything all right?”
The woman raised her head and wiped tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. She was of an age similar to Hannah’s, with dark brown curls that bobbed around her face. Sad brown eyes reminded Hannah of a shivering puppy she’d once seen on the street.
“Yes. Thank you. I foolishly spilled red wine on my dress and it is quite ruined.” She picked at a series of red marks on her pale green gown.
Hannah squinted at the splatter. It didn’t look like red wine, but something darker and thicker. Like tomato soup, but she was certain no such course had been served this evening. “Would you like me to fetch a maid? We might be able to clean it off.”
“Oh. No. I don’t want to be any bother. Silly to cry over a dress, I know, but it’s new.” Her hands scrunched the fabric and the stain disappeared within the folds.
Hannah well understood the despair of ruining a new gown, especially among those who seldom had the extra coin to keep abreast of fashion. She had stayed away from any food on the buffet that might have dribbled onto hers. “If you are sure you do not require assistance, I do have an errand to run for the marchioness.”
The other woman rose from the sofa. “I’ll go back to the party. I’m sure no one will notice the mark but me.”
Hannah followed the woman out and then turned in the opposite direction to continue on to the marquess’s study. The wooden box sat on a sideboard just inside the door. She longed to know what her mother had created to mark Lizzie’s engagement, but could wait a few more minutes for her curiosity to be sated.
With the box clutched to her middle, Hannah hurried back to the ballroom. She hummed to the music, but a chord froze in her mouth at the sight of the cool blonde by the double doors. A vivid blue dress clung to her form and revealed the swell of her bosom. A tall man with dark hair rested one arm on the wall by her head. Hannah didn’t recognise the man, but she did have the misfortune to be acquainted with the young woman.
The man glanced at Hannah and then leaned down to whisper in the woman’s ear.
A throaty laugh mingled with the music from within. “Oh, that is no one important. Only Miss Hannah Miles fetching and carrying, as her sort should.”
“I do hope you are having a pleasant evening, Lady Gabriella,” Hannah murmured, and ignored the noblewoman’s barb. She was only making sport for her latest beau.
Hannah stood at the top of the ballroom stairs and surveyed the crowd. She spotted Lady Loburn now in a cluster around the happy couple. Sir Hugh stood in the entrance to the billiards room talking to a group of men, no doubt explaining to them all how his research advanced. The upper echelon were keenly interested in whether he had identified a cure, wanting their wives and daughters retrieved from death’s clutches. Men who had already remarried, such as Lord Albright, were less keen on a cure.
Viscount Wycliff circled the outer edge of the group, like a shark about to dive through a school of fish. What interest had he in her father’s work? Perhaps an Afflicted sister or cousin? How odd that the men all kept their backs to the nobleman. Every one declined to acknowledge his presence in a public snub. In that case, why had the man been invited at all? She would have to ask Lizzie the reason later.
He glanced up and in her direction. Hannah gripped the box more tightly and concentrated on the stairs beneath her feet. It wouldn’t do to fall and tumble the box to the floor. She made her way toward the evening’s hostess and caught the lady’s eye.
“Perfect timing, Hannah. Come along.” Lady Loburn took Lizzie’s hand and that of the duke and led them out on the dance floor. She said nothing, but simply waited for the crowd to fall silent.
Anticipation raced around the room as people shuffled toward the walls, leaving the four of them alone in the centre. Elizabeth rested her hand on the duke’s arm and her eyes sparkled with happiness. Hannah held the box and reassured herself that everyone was looking at Lizzie, not at her.
When Lady Loburn held the attention of everyone present, she spoke. “We have gathered tonight to celebrate the engagement of Lady Elizabeth to his grace, the Duke of Harden. To mark this occasion I have a special surprise. A gift created by the mage, Lady Seraphina Miles.”
Lady Loburn gestured to Hannah. Taking her cue, Hannah set the nondescript box on the floor and undid the brass catch. Then she flicked the lid open and stepped back. Her mother had not whispered a single word about the gift and Hannah had not a clue to prepare her for what might emerge. It could be a unicorn or a troop of dancing mermaids.
At first nothing happened, although Hannah suspected her mother had given the enchantment a delay, to allow her time to move away from the box. Then a faint light glimmered, as though the box contained a lit candle, and the flame waved back and forth. The small light expanded until white radiance spilled over the top of the box.
The light grew into a pillar rising from the small box. It reached two feet, then four, and soon it was six feet tall and still reaching toward the ceiling like a magic beanstalk in a fairy tale. As the shaft of light grew, the candles in the ballroom dimmed until the room was in darkness except for the glow from the enchantment.
A murmur ran through the crowd as the luminescent shape continued to climb until it brushed the ceiling. Then the column began to pulse and hum. A few seconds passed, then it exploded, to a surprised gasp from everyone present. As though it were made of glass, the pillar shattered into thousands of pieces that flew outward. Women cringed and men held up their arms to ward off the shards, but before the slivers could reach anyone, they transformed into glittering butterflies.
Cries of wonder arose from those assembled as crystal butterflies circled the room. As they flew, their wings emitted a musical refrain. With each beat, they caught and refracted light and sent rainbows spinning in every direction. Twice around the room they swooped. Then they turned like a flock of birds and descended on the engaged couple.
Lizzie and her fiancé disappeared under a glittering curtain. Tinkling noises and giggles came from behind the living wall. Over a number of long moments, the butterflies reformed until the couple were clothed in the dazzling artificial insects. Lizzie wore a tiara and gown composed of butterfly gems. The duke wore a bespoke suit of tiny vibrating crystals, including one clinging to his cravat to become a stock pin.
The duke took Lizzie’s hand and the two of them experimented by taking a few steps. Murmurs of wonder came from the watchers as the butterflies swayed with the couple and their wings gave off a musical note to accompany the movement.
Emboldened by the experiment, Lizzie and the duke tried a few more dance steps. The crowd was captivated as the two danced to music created by their magical clothing. Draped in the sparkling butterflies who were also tiny musicians, they seemed ethereal—like fairy folk come to dazzle lesser mortals.
Hannah could only gape at the beautiful display. The newspapers would be filled with stories of the sight for weeks to come. Pride welled in her chest. Her mother had crafted the most beautiful engagement gift. What woman wouldn’t want to be clothed in singing, jewelled butterflies?
The dance ended and the two players bowed to one another. As the last note faded, the butterflies once again took flight, leaving Lizzie and the duke in their fabric evening wear. As a flock, the butterflies rose up and hovered. They formed two entwined hearts that seemed composed of a thousand diamonds, and made everyone sigh.
Their display over, the butterflies rolled together into an enormous sphere and with a silent bang, they exploded and rained down upon the floor as tiny, sparkling confetti. Flakes covered Hannah’s outstretched arms in shimmering scales and for a moment, she was part of the magic that had enveloped the couple.
The ballroom floor now resembled the ocean when the sunlight lights the waves and dusts the surface with gems. The candles relit themselves in the overhead chandeliers and wall sconces.
Lady Loburn drew a handkerchief from her bosom and dabbed at her eyes. “That was beautiful. Do tell Sera it was a most marvelous culmination of the evening.”
“I shall tell Mother everything, Lady Loburn,” Hannah said as she closed the box and picked it up.
Their hostess gestured to the musicians at the end of the room and the dancing continued, while Hannah returned to her place at the side, away from anyone’s notice.