The ballroom at Farrington House was a galaxy of candlelight and diamonds.
Five crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each holding a hundred wax candles that cast a warm, golden glow over the room. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, hot wax, and hothouse flowers. The sound of a string quartet tuning their instruments fought against the hum of two hundred aristocrats gossiping.
Rowan Hamilton, the Duke of Ford, stood at the top of the short staircase that led into the ballroom. He wore his black evening coat like a suit of armor. His face was set in a mask of polite boredom.
Beside him stood Delaney.
She felt the eyes of the ton land on them. She felt the whispers start.
"Who is that in the teal?"
"Is that the Duke?"
"She looks familiar..."
Delaney gripped her fan until the ivory ribs dug into her palm through her glove. The teal dress, which had felt so beautiful in the mirror, now felt like a neon sign.
