Page 33 of The Beautiful Ones

Cécile tucked the card beneath the edge of her plate. Her cheeks remained softly flushed, and each time Adrian spoke, her attention returned to him as faithfully as a compass needle seeking north.

Commander Vale had been patient with her because he was a patient man.

Adrian's patience felt different.

It felt chosen.

Octavia caught me watching him.

Her gaze rested upon my face, then dropped to the blue mark above my heart. The stain had darkened since morning. It showed faintly through the gray cloth of my dress, shaped almost like folded wings.

Octavia smiled.

“Your maid is very devoted,” she said to Cécile.

Every face turned toward me.

Heat rushed beneath my skin. Servants were not meant to become subjects at dinner.

Cécile looked back at me. “She is m-my friend.”

The words emerged with difficulty, but she forced each one into the room.

Madame's expression sharpened.

Before she could correct her daughter, Octavia said, “How fortunate. Devotion bought by wages is common. Devotion freely given is among the rarest things in the world.”

“I am under contract,” I said before caution could stop me.

The sentence sounded awkward in my mouth. I knew the words were correct, but my Swedish accent thickened whenever I was frightened.

Nicholas turned toward me.

“For five years,” he said.

The pitcher shifted in my hands.

I had not told him.

No one at the table had told him.

Madame Lebon frowned. “How did you know the length of her indenture?”

Nicholas lifted his glass. He had still not drunk from it.

“Five years is customary, is it not?”

“No,” Dinah said from beside the sideboard.

Her voice was quiet, but the certainty in it cut through the room.

Nicholas looked at her.

For the first time that evening, his smile failed.

Only for an instant.

Then it returned brighter than before.