The curious package, tied up with a black and white striped ribbon, arrived as Olivia was dressing for Daphne Vanderberg's cotillion. She had chosen an emerald satin gown with a great tiered bustle for the occasion. Trimmed in black Venetian lace and adorned in black jet beads on a silk overlay, the dress was sure to suit her well. It had been incredibly kind of Miss Vanderberg to invite her, a newcomer and outsider. She thought it best to arrive turned out in the height of fashion to deserve the honor of such an extension of friendship.
Having ordered nothing since their arrival in New York, Olivia wondered if the long white box had been delivered to them by mistake. Still, her curiosity wouldn't be sated if she didn't at least take a peek before the cotillion. She unknotted the ribbon and, after lifting the lid, found a card addressed to herself atop folds of pale green tissue paper.
The card was of thick stock with a delicate emblem letterpressed at the top. Olivia's stomach knotted and before she could stop it, her lips turned up into a smile: it was Mr. De Rosier's label. Her stomach jumped into her throat. The note read in cramped, nearly illegible writing,
"Dear Miss Colston, I am truly sorry for the events that occurred which lead to the destruction of your father's favorite ornament. I regret that I played a part in them and I regret even more the distress I have unwittingly caused you. Please accept this gift as a token of my friendship. I hold you in the highest of esteem and I would hate for there to be any disharmony between us. Your most contrite friend, Harry."
Olivia's hands trembled as she read the letter once more for good measure, before folding it closed and placing it aside. Her thoughts were almost too many to account for—the fact that he had been so affected by their encounter in the drawing room that he felt the need to apologize to her when she was entirely in the wrong. Then she wondered if he might have suspected her true feelings for him. At this a violent blush flew to her cheeks in her mortification. If he had somehow discovered her infatuation, how every thud of her heart called out for him, how torturous every moment with him was on her, then this letter surely meant he did not return those feelings—judging by the multiple mentions of friendship. Her heart hammered in her chest with agonizing fervor as she pulled aside layers of thin paper to reveal what Mr. De Rosier had thought right to gift her. From the green paper she pulled something long and white and cotton and lace. Her blush deepened, the rush of blood bringing a pulsing blossom of warmth to her cheeks, her lips, her throat. She swallowed the tingling sensation as she laid out the nightgown to examine it.
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.
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."
Olivia looked down again at the daunting list of names and swallowed her dread. She'd been trained well by her governess to be a congenial girl, but her pulse raced and her hands grew clammy anytime she was in a room full of strangers. When she looked up from her card, Daphne had disappeared. Instead she was met by the unwelcome sea of unfamiliar faces. Even worse, she appeared to be the only person in the room who didn't know who everyone was. At least Daphne had seen to it that she wouldn't have been an outsider for long.
Still she was left unattended and obviously alone while Archibald found a seat for their mother. A pair of ladies wearing a shocking number of pearls cast her obligatory glances of cold sympathy, but didn't move to introduce themselves. Then she saw him and the ballroom fell away.
The crowds parted as Harry De Rosier moved through the room. He headed right for her. His eyes, creased with a characteristic smile, were fixed on hers. For a moment she lost her anger in the palpitations of her heart. His eyes held such unbridled joy, his smile sincerity. That smile was all she needed to know that his gift had not a single impure motive behind it.
And Olivia was filled with guilt.
"Miss Colston!" he said, bending fluidly at the waist once he reached her. "Has Archibald left you unattended?"
"He has," she replied. "Only so that he can find my mother a seat to watch the dancing from." Olivia took a steadying breath. "But there is something that needs to be said—"
"Did you get my note, an–and the gift?" Harry De Rosier took a step closer.
Olivia had to crane her neck to look up into his blue eyes and to see Mr. De Rosier bite his lip out of a nervous habit she'd noticed the first week she'd met him. "Yes! Mr. De Rosier, it is far too beautiful a gift. Especially when I haven't had the chance to properly apologize for what I said to you. It was uncalled for and grossly unfair to you."
"You can call me Harry if you wish, Miss Colston," he said without assumption that he could use her Christian name.
The gesture took Olivia off guard, but she recovered quickly. "Harry, I'm sorry for what I said." Saying his name aloud, and the grin it elicited from the gentleman made her heart stop. "But I can't accept such a fine gift."
"Nonsense—"
"You don't... you don't think it's too... intimate for a gift between friends?" Olivia felt her cheeks flush with heat.
Harry covered his mouth with his hand to hide a laugh, but he couldn't hide his blush. "Miss Colston—"
"Olivia," she corrected with a little giggle at the turn in conversation. "I think we are quite familiar enough that you may call me Olivia."
"Olivia, I never even thought... I just wanted to give you something beautiful."
"Thank you," she said as they watched each other with matching smiles. "But I can't accept the gift."
Harry's head dipped forward. "I understand." Olivia hated the disappointment she could hear in his voice. She cursed herself and Harry's amiability all the more for their newfound familiarity. As far as she was concerned, it was playing with fire when she was determined to make her way back to England.
A trumpet fanfare from the orchestra marked the start of the ball and the grand promenade. Harry bowed at the waist and offered her his hand. "But all will be forgotten if you would grace me with the honor of a dance."
As he watched her hopefully, a dangerous notion entered her mind. Perhaps, as Archibald suggested, she could find happiness in New York. She briefly imagined being betrothed to Harry De Rosier, a white gown, a kiss in front of their dearest friends and family. She'd buried that dream deep deep in her gut and it ached with a cruel, persistent pain that couldn't be ignored. Indulging that daydream felt like taking her first sip of brandy — it burned through her chest with heady warmth. Olivia savored it, drinking in the imagined joy.
But it didn't last. "I can't accept. My dance card is full."
Harry straightened. "What? You just arrived and despite the fact that you are the most handsome woman in attendance, that's impossible. You insult me with such a lie."
Olivia stumbled over his declaration of her beauty, but she didn't have time to respond before he reached to grab her dance card. She moved it out of his reach but she couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips. "Harry, that's no way to ask to see a lady's dance card."
Harry's lips mirrored her grin. "Fine, may I see your dance card so that I may prove that you are a liar."
"Fine." Olivia handed him the card.
His eyes widened. "How?"
"Mrs. Vanderberg's kindness of course," she replied.
"And she didn't think to include me." Harry returned the card just before Mrs. Vanderberg found them with Daphne in tow. "I believe your ears are ringing, Mrs. Vanderberg," he said.
"What the devil are you saying about my ears?" she asked, her gloved hand flying to check the security of the diamonds fastened there.
"Nothing, nothing. I meant nothing by it," Harry recovered with a wink at Olivia.
"Oh!" Mrs. Vanderberg said, her smile returning. "Mr. De Rosier I hope you haven't forgotten you are engaged to dance with Daphne for the first dance." She nudged Daphne into place between Olivia and Harry.
"I haven't forgotten," he said with a smile thrown towards Olivia that begged her not to expose his lie. "Not for a second."
"Then you take Daphne and find an open set, I'll take Miss Colston and introduce her to her first partner." Mrs. Vanderberg twined her arm through Olivia's and the matter was settled.
As Olivia watched Harry and Daphne make their way through the crowd of hopeful dancers, she couldn't deny they made a handsome couple. Daphne talked animatedly about something and Harry listened and watched her with a smile in his eyes that made you feel like the most important person in the world to him. Olivia hated that he listened to everyone that way — it stung all the more when she did hold his attention. Every part of her wanted all of him to herself, and that, now more than any other reason, was why she had to leave New York. If she had to watch Harry fall in love with someone else, she feared her heart would never recover.
Thank you so much for reading! This chapter took forever to write (Thank you writer's block, let's not do that again anytime soon) but the next chapters should be coming up quicker. I'm currently editing a different novel at the moment which is an arduous task to say the least, but M&M is writing priority #1! Thank you all so much for your patience!