Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“Because no one told me they saw me there.”

“I was trained to keep Crowne secrets. Old habits die hard. I’ll catch up, don’t worry.”

We laughed, but mine died in my throat as a servant passed. She offered me a plate of hors d’oeuvres similar to the one Gemma had received, but mine was clearly rotten, fungus spreading across the cheese. When I looked closer I saw…glass. Shards of it embedded in the cheese balls.

“They’re really good,” Gemma said, raising her own and lifting her chin at my deadly one.

I don’t know if I would ever dream of a day when Gemma Crowne talked to me like an equal, but if I did, it would make sense it would be like this. While she ate delicious food and I had to be careful not to swallow glass.

I had to bear this quietly. It wasn’t like I could turn to Tansy Crowne and say her servants were treating me poorly. No one believed I belonged here. They would simply shrug and say, Well dear, it’s not like they’re wrong.

Gemma placed her empty napkin on a tray and I put my balled-up, uneaten food next to hers as a different string rhythm started up, more hurried and excited.

“The dance is starting. At the end, we might even get a marriage proposal. Can you imagine?” She rolled her eyes at me.

Gemma Crowne was joking with me.

I’d watched this dance so many times, but I’d never participated. The Crownes had been doing it as far back as when they’d first immigrated to America. Back then, only women who’d come out in society danced, and only men looking fo

r a wife joined in. It was an elaborate proposal.

We all lined up, our partners opposite us.

West was in his ridiculous pilgrim hat, and he grinned and shimmied at me. I tried to hide my smile in my hand.

“What are you wearing?”

The voice stopped my smile cold.

“You’re not supposed to be on this side,” I hissed. “The men go over there.” Gray had lined up next to me, apparently completely ignoring the fact that all women were supposed to be on one side.

“What are you wearing?” he repeated as the song struck up a folksy dancing chord, and all the women, plus Gray, took our first step.

“A dress,” I said. I took a step forward with the rest, linking arms with West. Lottie was next to her brother, watching us carefully, and I made sure to keep my eyes on West. I had enough on my mind trying to do the dance anyway. It was a simple two-step dance. Step, link arms, spin. Step, switch partners, spin.

“I can see that,” Grayson growled as we spun. “Why does it show your shoulders and tits?”

I glared. Was he really doing this as we danced?

“Because it’s not 1802,” I hissed on a spin. “I’m also showing some ankle, Father Gray.”

West spun, and then I realized in horror as we switched partners, and almost everyone went to a same-sex dancer, that it wouldn’t be the case for me. My arms linked with Gray’s.

My eyes were wide.

His were triumphant.

I looked over my shoulder at Lottie and West.

“If you stop now, it will be a bigger deal.”

I ground my jaw, going along with the dance. I stared anywhere other than his chiseled jaw, his pouty pink lips. The face I’d been deprived of, the heady smell I was getting drunk off. My mind spinning with Grayson, Grayson, Grayson as we did the final steps.

“What are you even doing dancing?” he growled. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant, not dying. I can dance at a party. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Grayson Crowne.”

“That’s my baby inside you.”