Poppy stood silently beside her friends, looking faintly sick, as if she wished she were a million miles away. Letty sympathized with that feeling.
The first woman continued with a sneer, “You might think you’re safe on Darius Kyrillos’s arm, but...”
“Ah, there you are, Letty,” Darius said smoothly, coming up behind them. “I brought your drink.” Turning to the other women, he gave a charming smile. “Ah. Augusta. Caroline. And Poppy Alexander. How lovely to see you.”
“Hello, Darius,” they cooed with weak smiles, then departed, the first two with a final venomous glance at Letty, Poppy hanging her head, looking guilty and ashamed.
Emotions Letty knew well.
“Everything all right?” Darius murmured after they left.
She exhaled, blinking fast. “Fine. Just fine.”
The night only got worse. It was past ten when the formal dinner was finally served, and Letty felt half-starved as she sat down beside Darius at the prestigious head table. But as she felt the glares from the four other couples at the table, she could barely eat a bite of salad or the lobster with white truffle cream. At any moment, she half expected one of the hedge fund millionaires or society wives might smash a three-hundred-dollar champagne bottle against the table and attack her with it.
That might have been preferable to the waves of unspoken hatred overtaking her like a blast of heat from all sides. During the unendurably long meal, Darius tried several times to start conversations with the others at the table. Each time, he succeeded. Until he tried to include her. Then the conversation instantly died.
Finally, Letty could stand it no longer.
“Excuse me,” she breathed, rising from her seat. “I have to—”
She couldn’t finish her sentence. Turning, she rushed past all the other tables and out of the ballroom. Going down the long hall, she found a ladies’ bathroom, where she was violently sick. Going to the sink, she washed out her mouth. She looked at herself wanly in the mirror. She felt like she’d rather die than go back into that ballroom and see Darius trying to stick up for her.
Better for her to just leave quietly. Better for both of them.
After lingering as long as she could in the cool quiet of the empty, marble bathroom, with the old-fashioned elegance of a more genteel era, she went out into the hallway.
She found Darius waiting for her, smolderingly handsome in his tuxedo, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and his jaw tight.
“Are you all right?”
He was angry. She could hear it in his voice. She stopped, barely holding back her tears. “Have you seen enough?” she choked out. “You’re surely not enough of an idiot to marry me.”
He came closer in the empty hallway, with its plush carpets and gold light fixtures. She tensed, waiting for him to tell her he’d obviously made a mistake, bringing her to his ball, and that there was no way he would marry her now or in fact ever wanted to see her again. She waited for him to give her what she’d wanted and set her free.
Except in this moment the thought didn’t make her as happy as it once did.
He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t realize how bad it was for you.”
She’d successfully fought back tears all night. But she could do it no longer. Not now, when the illusion of having a protector—even for a night—was coming to an end.
Letty took a deep breath, trying to ignore the lump in her throat, wiping her eyes before he’d see the tears. She tried to smile. “But now you know. So tomorrow I’ll go to Rochester with my father. You can continue to be rich and famous and popular here. You can visit our baby anytime you want...” Something in his eyes made her voice trail off uncertainly. “If you even want to see our baby anymore,” she whispered.
His eyes suddenly blazed with cold fury. “No.”
“What?”
He gripped her arm. “I said no.”
She tried to pull away, but couldn’t. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have done the moment we arrived here.”
He pulled her grimly down the hall, back toward the ballroom.
“No,” she choked out, struggling. “Please. I can’t go back in there. Don’t make me...”
Darius was merciless. He dragged her back into the enormous ballroom, with its high ceiling and crystal chandeliers. He gripped her wrist as she limped behind him in the tight stiletto shoes and pink dress, going past all the big round tables, where a thousand people were now drinking after-dinner brandies and coffees and the men, at least, were eating desserts. Letty felt each ten-person table fall silent as they went by. She felt everyone’s judgment. Their blame. Their hatred.
Ruthlessly, Darius pulled her through the ballroom, leaving people silent in their wake. As he walked past their own table, he grabbed his glass of champagne. Crossing the small dance floor, he dragged her up the stairs to the stage, where, still holding her wrist, he took the microphone at the podium. He cleared his throat.
Letty’s knees were trembling with fear. She wished she’d never come here—wished she’d never taken a single risk—would have given twenty years of her life to be back at her tiny apartment, snug on the sofa with a blanket over her head!
“Good evening,” Darius said into the microphone. His husky, commanding voice rang over the ballroom. A spotlight fell on him. “For those of you I haven’t yet met personally, I’m Darius Kyrillos. Thank you for coming to my party, the event kicking off the New York fall social season, and thank you for supporting scholarships for kids in need. It’s because of you that many deserving youngsters will be able to go to college or learn a trade.”
A smattering of applause ensued; much less enthusiastic than it would have been if Letty hadn’t been standing with him on stage. She was ruining everything, she thought unhappily. Even for those kids who needed help. She hated herself. Almost as much as she hated him.
Darius deliberately turned away from the microphone to give her a searching glance, and her stomach fell to the floor. Here it comes, she thought. He’s going to announce that he brought me here as a joke and have me thrown me out. She was social poison, so he really had no choice but to distance himself. This was exactly what she’d expected.
She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much when it happened.
Darius’s lips twisted. He turned back to the microphone. “Most of you know this beautiful woman on stage with me. Miss Letitia Spencer.” There was a low hiss across the ballroom, a rumble of muffled booing. He responded with a charming smile. “Since we’re all friends, I wanted you to be the first to know... I just asked her to marry me.”
Letty’s eyes went wide. What? Why would he say that? Was he insane?
“And she has accepted,” he finished calmly. “So I want you all to be the first to wish us joy.”
This time, the gasp came from Letty. Forget
