Page 72 of The Sound of Seduction
Violet arched an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. “No, thank you. This is no ordinary ball, Bea. You of all people should understand the importance.” Violet fanned herself. “The nurse has no objections, and Langley himself trusts my judgment. After all, this is no small occasion. It would be a snub to Lady Anna Ashford, not to mention an embarrassment to my new friend, Princess Thea, if I were to feign timidity.”
Wendy folded her hands on her lap, listening intently. She had always admired how the Countess of Langley could effortlessly wield logic and wit, delivering unassailable reasoning without crossing into frustration.
It was everything Wendy wasn’t—assured, elegant, untouchable.
“And the introductions,” Violet continued, crossing the room with the practiced grace of someone used to finding themselves the center of attention.
“It is a tremendous honor. Not one but three royal siblings to be presented at Lady Ashford’s ball—Stan, Thea, and Alex.” Her expression shifted slightly, warm but reflective as she named them. “Prince Alex should already be at Cloverdale House by now.”
The mention of Stan’s brother sent a ripple of dread through her.
Stan acted as though he wanted to stay with her, marry her even—but because of List and his duties, perhaps pressured further by his brother—perhaps he’d have to leave… Oh Wendy couldn’t finish the thought. List’s name alone lanced through the air, connected irreversibly to Stan, who was no doubt standing grim-faced at Cloverdale this instant. If Violet noticed Wendy’s small shift in posture, she tactfully didn’t acknowledge it.
Violet chuckled under her breath before crossing to a nearby cabinet. “Well, if you’re all so concerned about me defying tradition by attending a ball, then perhaps this will helpconvince you.” She invited them to join her upstairs, where she pulled open a smooth mahogany armoire and withdrew a dress, its fabric shimmering even in the filtered midmorning sunlight.
Wendy’s curiosity stirred as Violet returned to them, holding the gown at arm’s length for inspection. The rich emerald fabric caught the light like polished jewels, swirls of gold embroidery curling along the hem and bodice like creeping ivy.
“I had it made specifically for the ball,” Violet said proudly, draping the dress over an empty chaise. “A pregnancy doesn’t mean one can’t make a statement.”
“It’s exquisite,” Wendy found herself saying, despite her heart retreating to thoughts of Stan. “You’ll certainly… make an impression.”
“I should hope so.” Violet smiled wryly, her eyelids fluttering closed for the briefest moment. But when she opened them, they focused not on the dress but on Wendy again. “And you, Nurse Wendy? Will you attend alongside your brother, Dr. Folsham? I am certain the doctors at Cloverdale have all been invited.”
“But I am not a doctor,” Wendy said, wringing her hands.
“I know, I know. You’re far more important. I’ve seen you hand them everything they need—without you, the practice and Cloverdale would be like a fertile field without rain—nothing.” Violet gave a self-assuring nod as if she’d merely stated the obvious.
Pippa and Bea turned curious, expectant faces toward her, and Wendy shifted uncomfortably against their stares. Her tongue fumbled before even a half-answer could take shape. How could they grasp what such a question implied? How could any of them see what her heart fought against at every moment?
To attend the ball would be to stand in the open, a nurse beside nobility, exposed before the very eyes she feared most. And if Stan so much as peeked at her—if anyone sensed whathad passed between them—it would not be a pleasurable ball. It would be scandal.
For Violet, the ball was an honor, a confirmation of her role, her connections, her place in society. For Wendy, it was the cold acknowledgment of everything she could never have.
“In fact, Violet,” Pippa said with a meaningful glance to Bea and back to Violet, “there’s something we need to discuss with you. It’s about Cloverdale House.”
“And you,” Pippa said with a smile.
“We’ve all been talking,” Bea added, her tone gentler than usual. “About how you’ve carried the place these past months. Your work, your spirit… everyone sees it.”
“We want to reward that,” Pippa said, glancing from Violet to Wendy. “Celebrate it. But—”
But Wendy barely heard them. Her mind was already spiraling, caught in the impossible tug-of-war between love and duty. Stan was being pulled from London by threats and politics. She was anchored here, in her work, her purpose. How could they meet in the middle if the very ground kept splitting beneath them?
Chapter Thirty-One
The morning beforethe ball, Wendy knew Stan would move out of Cloverdale House for he’d been officially discharged. She missed him already, her chest aching with the weight of it, and yet anticipation prickled just beneath her skin—she’d see him again tonight. Thus, she headed for the morning room to check on an elderly patient when low voices from the parlor tugged at her attention. They weren’t the ordinary tones of visitors or staff; the cadence was sharper, edged with urgency.
Her slippers whispered against the floorboards as she approached. The voices grew clearer. One of them, unmistakably, belonged to Stan.Why was he still here?She paused, her fingers lightly tracing the wall for balance as she leaned closer.
“No, Alex, I have not,” Stan said, his voice controlled but tense. “And there’s no need to remind me what’s at stake. He’ll cause a rift that will bring about war. I know it.”
Wendy’s brow furrowed as she turned her ear toward the door. Another man, then, replied, “So what have you been doing here? Why aren’t you going back home? Why not appeal to the Emperor to send troops to protect our people?”
She dared a glance through the slightly ajar door, clutching the frame. There, beyond the parlor threshold, stood a man whose features startled her. He resembled Stan uncannily but with golden-blond hair, his face framed in sharper angles. He stood an inch or two shorter than Stan but wore a posture just as firm and unyielding. Prince Alex.
Stan’s shoulders shifted as though bracing under an unseen weight. “Because I don’t want to give up trying to use diplomacy with List.”
“Diplomacy,” Prince Alex repeated, incredulity dripping from the word. “He doesn’t listen to reason.” He paced two quick steps before halting abruptly. “I’ll pen a note to the naval officers. We need to alert everyone back home.”
