Free Splendor: A Luxe Novel by Anna Godbersen

his voice was lined with malice now. The smile became a grimace. “Longhorn was my idea, or had you forgotten? I believe you owe me some gratitude…Miss Broud.”
    Carolina’s blood quickened, and she quivered a little at the sound of her true surname, and wanted very badly for it all to be over, for none of it to be true. She stepped away from him, as though that might make their past together, and all the other ways she used to be, disappear. Her movement was quickly mimicked, and he held her gaze as she backed away.
    “Who is this?”
    Carolina’s heart thudded. Her eyes grew round. She turned, and saw Amos and Leland, stepping out from the box and into the corridor. Jovial expressions faded from their faces as they took in the sight of the handsome, flashily dressed fellow who was most certainly not one of their people. The boy she had been dreaming about for months was no less handsome when he wore an unhappy expression, Carolina saw.
    The suggestion of a territorial instinct lent an imposing quality to his features, which she discovered that she liked. In seconds, she knew that she would do anything to keep him from discovering what she really was—she would do anything just to keep him.
    “I have no idea.” The timbre of her voice was so light and sure, that she wondered for a moment if perhaps she was an actress at heart. When she turned back to Tristan, her face communicated nothing but a profound lack of recognition. “He thought he knew me, but he was wrong.”
    “Well, then, he should move on,” Amos said.
    Something murderous passed through Tristan’s face, but she felt a little calm already. She could tell she’d silenced him. Perhaps, too, the image of two tall gentlemen from old families, looming in white tie and black tails, made him less intent on his mission than he had been in the previous minutes. In all their strange times together, Carolina had never seen Tristan intimidated. She was glad to see it now. He bowed curtly, and backed away.
    When she turned again toward Leland, she saw that his broad, handsome features were still hung with a little possessive anger, and it gratified her. “Poor fellow,” he said, trying to shake it off. “He read about Miss Broad in the papers and dreamed he’d have a chance of whispering pretty things in her ear.”
    “Maybe he thought he could get invited to her next grand fete,” Amos added, laughing.
    “Come, gentlemen, there is no need to mock a nobody.” She tossed her head and gave an easy laugh. All of a sudden she wanted to be alone with Leland, to look at only him. “It was so kind of you to visit, Mr.
    Vreewold,” she declared in gentle dismissal. “Good night.” Then she and Leland stepped back into the box, with moony faces and bright eyes that were only for each other. She beamed radiantly as if to say, unequivocally, that whatever had just occurred was nothing.
    Less than nothing. Meanwhile, she could see in his posture and his glances, she could feel in the way his hands brushed her skirt and arms, that a few little waves of jealousy had carried her even further into his affections. Several boxes to her right, she knew that Tristan must be retaking his seat, but she would not have deigned to look in that direction.
    They remained in her prestigious box several more hours, being spied upon and whispered about all across the grand opera house. Carolina’s face was lit with happiness, her movements were effortless, as though no threat had been posed. Only once, on the carriage ride back to Sixty-third Street, did her calm exterior falter, and for a moment she trembled at what a humiliating scene she had narrowly averted.
    Leland noticed it, and asked her what was wrong.
    “Oh, it’s only that occupying old Longhorn’s box makes me miss him,” she lied, pressing her eyelids together as if allowing a shudder of pain to travel across her body. “He was my father’s good friend, you see, and had promised him that he would protect me,