Julian guided her away.
My hand found the silver necklace at my throat.
For the first time all evening, I thought about Rosa.
Not her death.
Her kitchen.
A pot of chocolate simmering.
Her hands dusted with flour.
Her voice telling me not knowing where I started did not mean I couldn’t choose where I went.
I stood straighter.
Then the ballroom changed.
Conversations softened.
Heads turned.
Richard Kensington had arrived.
He entered without spectacle, which somehow created more of it.
Tall even in his seventies.
Silver hair.
Dark tuxedo.
A face I recognized from business magazines.
Beside him walked Eleanor Kensington, his older sister.
Elegant.
White hair.
Deep-green gown.
Richard had been widowed for years.
His private life was almost never discussed publicly.
Julian moved before anyone else.
He nearly abandoned the board member he was talking to.
“Mr. Kensington.”
Richard shook his hand.
“Julian.”
The lack of warmth did not discourage my husband.
“I’m so glad you could attend.”
“My sister insisted.”
Eleanor smiled faintly.
Then Richard looked around.
“I was told you brought your wife tonight.”
I saw Julian’s body change from twenty feet away.
Not much.
Just enough.
A hesitation.
A glance.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s…”
His eyes found me.
“…not accustomed to these events.”
Richard’s expression was unreadable.
“Neither was I until somebody invited me to one.”
A few people nearby laughed.
Julian didn’t.
He motioned me forward.
I felt thirty pairs of eyes follow me.
The ballroom suddenly seemed much larger.
When I reached them, Julian smiled too quickly.
“Elena, Richard Kensington. His sister, Eleanor.”
I extended my hand.
“It’s an honor.”
Richard did not take it.
For one humiliating instant, I thought he was ignoring me too.
Then I realized he wasn’t looking at my hand.
He was staring at my necklace.
Not casually.
Not with curiosity.
His entire face had changed.
Eleanor followed his gaze.
She stopped breathing.
Her champagne glass tilted slightly in her hand.
“Richard.”
He didn’t answer.
Julian laughed nervously.
“Oh, that old thing.”
I turned toward him.
He continued.
“I keep telling her formal events aren’t the place for flea-market jewelry.”
The room seemed to become very quiet.
Julian reached toward my arm.
“Why don’t you go—”
Richard’s voice cut through him.
“Don’t.”
Julian froze.
Richard stepped closer.
His eyes were wet.
“Where did you get that necklace?”
I touched it instinctively.
“The woman who raised me.”
Eleanor whispered, “Turn it over.”
I looked at her.