After selling his ancestral estate, Archibald Colston decides to exchange the pastoral serenity of country society for a chance to make a new life for the Colston family in the wealthy elite of New York City. Upon their arrival, Archibald and his si...
It was truly, the most beautiful nightgown she'd ever laid eyes on. Fashioned in soft, snow white cotton, the gown would fall all the way to the floor on her short frame. The neck and long sleeves were edged in lace panels and delicate embroidery. It was all white with the exception of a dark plum, satin ribbon that, when tied at the waist, closed the nightgown with the help of a column of covered buttons. She almost didn't dare touch the fabric—something about such a gift felt more akin to romance than friendship. What had Mr. De Rosier been thinking in sending her something as intimate as a nightgown? And the plum ribbon? What did it mean?
The first thing that crossed Olivia's mind, suggestive as the nightgown was, made her bristle with surprising anger. She was a lady, and if this was some... proposition, well, she was sure it would indeed cure her of her irksome heartsickness. For she would never dare associate with anyone, in friendship or courtship, who conducted himself in such an ungentlemanly fashion.
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Olivia hid her discomfort and roiling anger well in the carriage to the Vanderberg mansion on Millionaire's Row. Archibald was silent too, which usually meant he was hiding something from their mother. Lady Colston was, thankfully, too busy chattering in a peculiarly droll manner about Mrs. Vanderberg's kindness to notice the odd behavior in her children. Olivia didn't say much on the chance she might reveal Mr. De Rosier actions to her brother who she feared would challenge De Rosier to a duel for such a slight to her honor.
Upon their arrival at the mansion, Olivia found that the Petit Chateau, as Mrs. Vanderberg had thus nicknamed the house, hardly merited the use of the word petit. The mansion was an entire city block wide and at three stories high, it had the steep, grey slate roofs, rounded turrets, and all the limestone tracery one would expect to find on a French Gothic chateau.
Archibald handed Olivia and Lady Colston out of the carriage and escorted them through the front doors and into the grand hall. On the other side of the impressive room, doors were thrown wide to grant guests access to the ballroom. Mrs. Vanderberg and Daphne stood just inside and greeted newcomers before the dancing began.
Daphne pulled Oliva aside once the proper pleasantries were exchanged. "My dear," Daphne said. "I can hardly contain my excitement to bring you into my circle of acquaintances. It's not every day we get to befriend the daughter of a knight here in New York—at least one who isn't destitute."
Olivia smiled politely. It was clear that she was a bit of a novelty to New York society, but she was glad for any advantage she could get. For all she'd known, she might have ended up the friendless spinster in the outrageously purple house if it weren't for Daphne's interest in her and Archie. "I too share in your excitement," she said.
With a warm grin Daphne handed Olivia a fan shaped dance card with a silver capped pencil tied to it with ribbon. "I took the liberty of arranging a full dance card for you so that you can become acquainted with all of my dearest friends."
Olivia glanced over the rows of unfamiliar names penciled into her card. "But I don't know any of these people—"
"Nonsense! My mother will make introductions for you, especially since she has nothing better to do," Daphne said, waving her off. "She will find you before the first set and introduce you to your partner."
