Mary stepped into the grand ballroom, its marble floor gleaming under the warm glow of a crystal chandelier. Satin ribbons curled elegantly around each pillar, swaying faintly in the draft. Beside her, McKenna's hand rested firmly on her waist—protective, almost possessive, as a devoted husband might.
She could have sworn she heard whispers before they entered, but the moment they stepped through the doors, the chatter died. Heads turned. Eyes followed.
"Lord heavens," Mary breathed, shrinking slightly behind McKenna. The crowd was immense, far larger than she had imagined, and she had never been in such a gathering before.
Her mother approached in a rush, the gem at her neck catching the light with every step. Sun-kissed hair, pulled neatly into a ponytail, bobbed behind her. Lady Hathaway's smile was wide and eager.
"Oh, my dear daughter, come, come meet Lord Edward. And you too, sir…" Her gaze flicked to McKenna, though his face remained cold.
