THE SWEET, WONDROUS SOUND OF a harp drifted up to my room. I could hear the merry voices of my guests filtering up from below. Mary Grace was applying the finishing touches to my hair. She’d swept it up on top of my head and a mass of loose ringlets dangled down the back of my neck. I’d selected a stunning gold silk gown that accented my olive complexion. The off-the-shoulder gown exposed my shoulders, and the neck scooped low in a heart-shaped design. Mary Grace clasped a diamond necklace around my neck and its large emerald pendant nestled just above my breasts. I stood and regarded myself in the mirror and smiled, pleased with my appearance. Tonight I felt beautiful. Mary Grace held out the elbow-length gloves and I slipped them on and turned toward the door.

Thaddeus appeared in the doorway. “Miss Willow, your guests are arriving, and your father requests your presence.”

“Please let him know I’ll be right down.”

“Yes, Miss.” He bowed and left.

I took one last look in the mirror and smiled at the woman staring back at me, then swept out of my room.

I descended to the landing overlooking the grand main floor and paused to observe the guests. Mary Grace stopped a few feet behind me. She, along with all the female servants serving tonight, was dressed in a royal blue gown trimmed in silver—garments fit for any Southern belle. The male servants wore sophisticated black tailcoats and pants.

My ears picked up Whitney’s voice, carrying throughout the room. I caught sight of her, cocktail in hand, conversing with a circle of guests including Bowden, Knox, Josephine, and Lucille. Bowden glanced up and caught my eye as I descended the stairs. His eyes lit up and his approving gaze followed my descent. I blushed beneath his intense stare. Knox and Whitney, seeing they had lost Bowden, turned to see what had stolen his attention.

I stopped to greet a few guests who stepped up to kiss my cheek and wish me a merry Christmas. Whitney boldly cut through the crowd to get to me, and pulled me to their merry little group.

“Willow, you are stunning, as usual,” Knox said with a half-bow.

“Thank you, Knox. You look dashing yourself.” His red cravat stood out nicely against his black tailcoat.

“I rolled out of bed looking like this,” he said, posturing. His audience gave him his expected chuckle. He wasn’t a refined gentleman and he had no mind to be.

“The plantation is so beautiful, Willow; it must have taken you weeks to do this,” Whitney marveled, surveying the main floor.

“Thank you, Whitney. It does take a lot of time and energy, but I strive to give our guests an evening of splendor.”

“Well, with the money you have, I would expect you can afford it,” Lucille said, jealousy marring her forced jocularity.

“My daddy says Livingston is like its own empire, and you could marry and be set for life,” Josephine added without malice.

I was uncomfortable with the attention and insulted by their impertinent focus on our finances. My eyes narrowed as a rebuke formed on my tongue.

Bowden stepped in, putting a halt to the conversation with, “Are you meaning to insult your hostess, ladies?”

“No, we are stating what we have heard,” Lucille replied, placing a hand on her chest as if she were the one being offended.

Grateful for Bowden interceding, I forced a brilliant smile, playing the gracious hostess. “It’s Christmas. Let’s all enjoy the evening,” I said before removing myself from the group. In no way was I going to let those two meddlesome girls ruin the evening I had worked so hard to perfect.

As the beautiful Mary Grace swept past with a tray of champagne, I reached for one. After a long sip, I blew out a deep breath and left the negative energy from the last five minutes of conversation behind me.