Page 60 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter

“Oh?”

“I’m having difficulty focusing when all I can see is you.”

I wanted to enjoy the pleasure his words elicited, but made the mistake of glancing at Bartholomew, whose eyes were on me, wide open as if he’d seen a ghost. He seemed to take an involuntary step toward me, the puzzle evident on his face. I didn’t need my gut to know that the ghost was me.

“Excuse me, Rohan, I need to adjust my dress,” I said, quickly turning on my heel.

“Okay, I—”

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said as I left his side, heading in the opposite direction of Bartholomew, joining the crowd. He wove through the crowd at the same rate. I could see Benjamin not far behind from the corner of my eye.

I was near the door when a sharp tug came at my elbow.

“Who are you?” Bartholomew demanded, his expression dark as his eyes swept my face.

“Excuse me?” I jerked my elbow back. “What business is it of yours?”

“I’ll mind that,” he said as he invaded my space. “Who are you?”

“I’m a university student. And I am a guest here. Who areyou?” I backed toward the door. There were too many people staring, too many witnesses for something I could not explain.

His eyes bored into me. “My grandfather kept a miniature of a woman hidden in his desk. As a child, I stared at it constantly. Yet he would never speak of her. You look exactly as she—” He covered his mouth with disbelief. “Exactlyas she.”

“Is there a problem here?” Rohan and his uncle cut through the crowd, attempting to calm the situation.

Bartholomew relaxed his face, patching on a smile, transitioning alarmingly from anger to ease.

“Of course not. I merely thought her an acquaintance.” He glanced at me, but darkness lingered there. I moved closer to Rohan.

Rohan’s uncle frowned. “You will not mishandle a guest of mine in my house, sir. Our family and conglomeration only have members of the most upright character!”

Bartholomew blanched. “I’m sorry, sir. All a misunderstanding.” He glanced about; guests stared at us in confusion. “We’ll take our leave. Come on, Benjamin,” he muttered.

They hustled out of the party as the murmurs rose. Thankfully, the musicians played their instruments, filling the silence and restarting the conversation.

“What was all that?” Rohan glanced between me and the Boudreaux family, hastily retreating.

“As he said, it was truly a misunderstanding. Please, you have guests. I must take my leave.”

Rohan’s uncle acknowledged me apologetically before returning to his nephew. “Come, my boy, I have others to introduce you to.”

I felt Rohan’s eyes boring questions at my back as I left, his uncle guiding him deeper into the crowd. Before I started for home, I waited outside to ensure that Benjamin and his father hadn’t lingered. I’d learned long ago the trouble that men worked in the shadows.

Deep into the night, sudden sharp cracks against my window woke me. I sat up, instantly alert. It had taken me ages to fall asleep, the night’s events replaying in my mind. I kept seeing Bartholomew’s face as he questioned me—his anger. Two more objects thwacked the window frame. Had he somehow followed me?

I threw back the covers and carefully drew the curtains to spot the source of the noise. Rohan stood in my courtyard with a small clutch of pebbles, white moonlight casting a halo around him.

I unlatched the window, letting in the cool evening breeze. “What are you doing here?”

“I knocked, but no one answered,” he said sheepishly, his face endearing under the soft glow. “Forgive me for this forwardness. I don’t know what has come over me.”

“It’s aftermidnight.” As bewildered as I was by his visit, I had to admit a part of me was thrilled.

“I wanted to check on you after the party. I’ve only managed to slip away. I thought I’d see if you were up.”

“By damaging the side of my house?”

He ducked his head. “If it makes a difference, I chose the smallest pebbles.”