Page 29 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“Your mirror tells you well enough that you look beautiful,” he said, with a shrug. “You hardly need me to confirm that. Though I am glad to see that the dress fits – I had to take a guess at your sizing. I presume you’ll be able to make any necessary alterations yourself.”

“Then you did hire me for my dressmaking skills, after all.” I smiled.

He did not smile back. Again, I reminded myself that I wasn’t here to be his friend.

He reached into his pockets and pulled out four velvet cases.

“I brought you these.” He walked over to the dressing table and set them down before returning to the fireplace.

I made my way cautiously towards the boxes. With slightly unsteady hands I opened the first one.

I had been prepared to look unaffected by whatever I found there, but I couldn’t help the gasp that fell from my lips.

“Are these—”

“Diamonds.” He nodded.

I stared at them for a moment, almost afraid to touch them. There were dainty drop earrings, a short necklace that looked like it was made of stars, and a matching bracelet. My etiquette book said that young debutantes didn’t typically wear diamonds. It seemed he was determined to cause a stir. I didn’t know much about jewels, but I couldn’t imagine that Nicholas Wynter would settle for anything less than the best.

My hands moved to the next box: a set of emeralds, the green so deep that they contained an elusive flash of blue. In the third box was a necklace made of multiple strands of delicate shell-pink pearls, and matching earrings. The fourth box was the best of all: dazzling sapphires, a luminous deep blue that danced with light.

“I can’t—” I began, but Nicholas waved a hand, cutting me off.

“They’ll expect it,” he said. “All the other ladies will be weighed down with their best jewellery. It will seem decidedly odd if the one who’s supposed to be the richest of all never wears any. They’ll remark on it.”

I was silent then. Objectively, I knew he was right, but it still made me feel uncomfortable. Clothes and jewels – things that I had been offered by other men, men with very different motives.

As if reading my mind, he said briskly, “They’re only borrowed, so you needn’t look so pained. When we’re done the jewels go back to the jeweller. They are not a bribe, they are not a gift, they do not come with any demands attached to them. They are simply part of your costume.”

I found his argument to be reassuring.

I nodded. “You’re right.”

“Always,” Nicholas replied, that half-smile on his lips.

I reached for the sapphires and slipped the solitaire earrings through my ears, then I picked up the necklace and undid the clasp.

“Allow me.” He pulled himself away from the fireplace and moved towards me.

He took the necklace from my hands, and I turned around with my back to him. He was close enough that I could feel the heat from his body against me. For someone so determined to appear ice cold, he certainly seemed warm-blooded.

I felt the brush of his fingers across my collarbone as he pulled the necklace into place. There was the slightest touch of his breath against the nape of my neck. The necklace was cold and heavy against my skin. I shivered.

Then he took a step back, the warmth of him receding.

“I’d better go down,” he said. “Wait five minutes before you join us.” He scanned me once more. “You should make quite an entrance.”

I nodded in agreement, and he slipped from the room. I returned my attention to the jewellery for a moment, and then snapped the boxes shut. Nicholas was right; they were simply props for the part I needed to play.

I took a deep breath, preparing not only to meet the other guests as Serena Fox, but to wander the familiar hallways of my home.

I looked at myself in the mirror. It was time to wrap myself in the cloak of uncaring frost that I had worn every day as a young girl alone in London. The sapphires winked at my ears and at my throat, a perfect match for my eyes.

My reflection looked back, steady, unafraid. I could do this.

Taking hold of my skirts, I swept out of the door and down the stairs. I moved swiftly, as if I could simply outrun my own emotions. I felt my breath coming shallow and I tried to push all the feelings right down inside me.

Helena had explained how to reach the drawing room – not that I had needed the directions. I felt that I was walking through time, as if I was simultaneously seeing the walls around me as they were now, and the shadow of how they had been seven years earlier. It was an overwhelming and disorienting feeling, this dual perspective. Helena had redecorated quite extensively but I still saw to the heart of the house, like an archaeologist, peeling back the layers of history.