The Surviving Trace

by Calia Read

  When dinner was over, the ladies retired to the parlor. I stopped at the doorway, wondering whether I should join her. But Nat linked her arm through Serene’s and led her deeper into the room.

  I told myself I didn’t need to worry. The etiquette after a dinner party is a bit uninhibited, but that doesn’t mean Serene will let her guard down. The ladies surrounding her are bloodthirsty with their need to gossip. One false misstep can provide a week’s worth of hushed conversation and arched brows. I know Serene is capable of blending in, but she has a stubborn streak and a bit of a temper. She blurts out what she thinks and is incredibly spontaneous. Right when I think I have her figured out, she does a one-eighty.

  Only moments after we arrived at Asa’s, she made her way to him. In front of everyone, she sweetly greeted him then apologized for the argument they had in my office. People gathered around them listening avidly, and Asa’s face turned bright red as he accepted her apology. His manners dictated that he immediately receive it and give one of his own. When he did, a slow smile spread across her lips. She told him that she wanted to turn a new leaf over with him and walked away.

  Did Serene seem sincere? Yes.

  Did I wholeheartedly believe her? I don’t know.

  One person she didn’t apologize to was Johnathan. He’s here tonight. I’ve watched him closely. Not that it matters; he’s kept a wide berth from Serene. During dinner, he shot daggers her way, and she not so subtly scratched her nose with her middle finger.

  Furniture has been pushed against the walls in the parlor to make room for dancing. I wait for one of the men openly staring at Serene to ask her to dance, but she shocks us all when she walks into the middle of the room. Couples around her curiously stare. A guest volunteers to play the piano, and once she starts, Serene doesn’t do the one-step. She merely moves to the music and encourages Nat to do the same. While everyone else dances the very dance we spent hours practicing.

  At one point, Serene holds Nat’s hands in the air so my sister can do a small spin. The two of them laugh while everyone gives them disapproving stares. Some look at me, probably confused as to why I’m not intervening. A few appear nonplussed. But most likely, everyone thinks this is the typical Serene they see at every party. They don’t know what I know.

  All eyes watch her, but not because of the way she dances. The other ladies move with restriction; Serene moves with grace. There is something… free about every step she takes. I’m certainly not the only man in the room who has noticed. Even the ones dancing are looking at her from the corners of their eyes.

  It doesn’t help that her dress is borderline scandalous. On the way here, she swore she found this dress in Old Serene’s closet, all the way in the back. The gown is dark blue, though the sleeves are a light blue muslin. It has fluid lines and draping across the front, and a slit that goes up to her knee, barely hidden by the same material for the sleeves. The dress is so form-fitting I—and everyone in the room—can tell she isn’t wearing a corset.

  When Nat was out of earshot, Serene openly gushed about how the gown is something she would wear in her own time, that it’s so beautiful, and it makes her feel more like herself. She’s right—the dress is beautiful, and because of that, no one can take their eyes off of her. My hand tightens imperceptibly on my drink as anger grows inside me. Before long, it turns to fury. I have the urge to break them all in half. Even my brother. He’s staring at her with laughter in his eyes. If he’d experienced what I did in the ballroom with Serene yesterday, he wouldn’t be smiling.

  I’ve been telling myself that if we kissed just once, then my fascination with her would fade away. Oh, how wrong I was.

  My thoughts are dominated by her and how I can get her alone again. I smirk darkly at the fools around me because I get to do what they’re all craving to do—go home with her.

  “Bless your heart, Étienne.”

  I turn to my left and see Phoebe McNeal.

  When it comes to women, no one loves them more than Livingston. I, on the other hand, find the whole rigmarole of flirting to be exhausting and a waste of time; I know the end scenario I want—with them in my bed. That’s what made Phoebe refreshing.

  She’s a beautiful woman with curves in all the right places. Over a year ago, we started a relationship. I use that term loosely, considering our relationship centered around sex. Over time, she became more insistent for a relationship that existed beyond my bed. She didn’t go ballistic when I called off things, and because of that, we could be cordial in public. Tonight though, I hadn’t anticipated seeing her. A brief surge of annoyance rolls through me.

  “I’m sorry?” I say.

  She steps closer, keeping her eyes on the couples on the floor, and speaks in a hushed whisper. “The spectacle your wife is makin’ right now. I don’t know how you’ve been so patient throughout the years. And that dress…” I don’t take the bait, and she sighs. “It’s risqué.”

  “Leave her be. She’s enjoyin’ herself.”

  Phoebe seems momentarily off guard by my harsh reply. She raises both brows and watches the couples dancing. “Very well. I apologize for oversteppin’.”

  I glance at Phoebe in time to see her lips curl up in disdain over the last word.

  Within a blink of an eye, any trace of disgust is gone as she smiles and watches me from beneath her lashes. “I presume things are favorable between you and Serene?”

  Such an innocent question, though I know Phoebe well enough to realize she’s anything but honest or sincere. I hesitate because a substantial part of me wants nothing more than to end this conversation, march toward Serene, and ask her to dance with me. On a smaller scale, I’m tempted to answer. Not because Phoebe, or anyone else at this party for that matter, deserves to know the truth; this group is as loyal as a pack of rabid, starving dogs. No, the only reason I want to tell her the truth is because I myself can’t believe the turn of events.

  I cast a surreptitious glance at Serene. “Things between Serene and I are… very pleasant.”

  Phoebe arches a thin brow. Her brilliant smile doesn’t waver. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

  I nod and direct my attention toward the dancing couples, trying to ignore that Phoebe is still standing beside me.

  After a few seconds, she sighs. “It was lovely talkin’ to you, but I see some familiar faces I haven’t said hello to.”

  “Good night, Phoebe,” I say without bothering to pull my gaze from Serene.

  The song comes to a close, and Serene takes a deep breath and smiles. She and Nat talk for a few seconds before my sister drifts toward a group of her friends. Serene stands there alone, momentarily lost as she turns in a circle, trying to find a familiar face.

  My grip tightens on my drink. Look my way. Look my way.

  She’s seconds from seeing me when one of Livingston’s good friends, Trevor McBride, taps her shoulder. She whirls around, and I’d do anything to get a glimpse of her face right now. Trevor’s lips move. It doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s asking her to dance. I crane my neck forward as if those extra inches will gain me access to their conversation.

  When we left Belgrave, she hadn’t a single hair out of place. Now her pins have loosened, causing a few wayward strands to escape and tease her neck and jawline. Beneath the light, the strands take on a golden hue.

  In a sea of coiffed hair and uptight personalities, she’s a feral child. Free and unstrained. She’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.

  She’s failing miserably at the one-step, but she does so with a gracefulness that has everyone wondering if they’re the ones who have the steps wrong.

  “Is there a reason you’re sulkin’ in the corner?” comes a voice to my left.

  “Go away, Livingston,” I reply, never taking my eyes off of Serene.

  At that moment, the piano stops. Serene claps, along with everyone else, and steps back from Trevor. Her cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are dancing. Something close to fury burns in my belly and
spreads through my body when I see Trevor still hasn’t left her side. Her head kicks back as she laughs at something he says. It’s such a genuine and effervescent sound. Nearly every man in the room turns in her direction and watches Trevor with envy that he’s the one pulling that appealing sound out of her.

  What did he say to her? Better yet, when did he grow a sense of humor? The man is as stiff as a board.

  The interesting part is she isn’t flirting or giving him coy smirks like the Old Serene. The one standing in front of me is friendly and has nothing to hide.

  “This is utterly fascinating,” Livingston remarks.

  I give him my full attention. “What is?”

  He pulls out his pocket watch. “It’s a quarter till ten, and you’re still here.”

  Typically, I stay no longer than an hour at events. That gives me ample amount of time to speak with the people I know and make sure that my presence is noticed. But watching Serene gives me a rush of energy that’s impossible to describe. The only thing I know is that leaving is the last thing on my mind.

  I snort. “Shouldn’t you be out there enjoyin’ yourself instead of counting the minutes I stay here?”

  Livingston rocks back on his heels and laughs. “Touché. But you need to understand that lately, your behavior has been very singular.”

  I grind my teeth and ignore his subtle attempts to get a rise out of me. “I could say the same for you. You’re standing on the outer edges of a ballroom, talking to your brother of all people, instead of making advances on the countless of available women here tonight.”

  Livingston takes a long drink and grins. “Ah, the night is young, Étienne. The night is young.”

  Our conversation is put on hold as Serene approaches us with Trevor at her side. He stares at her like a puppy dog anxious to make his master happy.

  Livingston gives me a sidelong glance before he smiles at Serene. “There you are! I’ve searched this house top to bottom lookin’ for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. Then I followed the whispers about the enchanting Serene, and they led me here. You are making quite an impression tonight.” My brother glances at me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Étienne?”

  Bastard. He’s baiting me, and he knows it. I take a long swallow of my drink and don’t say a word.

  He shoves his drink into my chest. “Hold this, will you? The next dance is mine.”

  Serene gives me a hesitant smile before she follows Livingston.

  I made a promise to Serene that I would help her find a way back to her time. A part of me is determined to keep that promise. But the other, bigger part resists it. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea if she stayed in my time. Forever.

  Want her from afar, because she’ll never honestly be yours. She has a fiancé waiting for her, my mind warns.

  If I thought watching McBride dance with Serene was terrible, then its torture watching Livingston. He’s pulling out all the stops as he flirts with Serene right in front of my face.

  Ignore him. He’s trying to get a rise out of you.

  But when they make a turn, I see his hand on the small of her back, fingers splayed, and something inside me snaps.

  “Étienne!” I turn in time to see Theodore Hunt, a successful cotton broker, come closer. “Just the man I wanted to speak to.”

  I finish my drink (and Livingston’s for good measure) and place it on the closest surface possible. “Not now,” I half-growl before I stalk toward Serene and Livingston. I tap my brother on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

  Livingston pulls back. I keep my eyes fixed on his hand lightly resting on her waist before I look him in the eye. An uncomfortable silence descends around the three of us.

  “Be my guest,” he finally replies. His eyes dance mischievously. “She is your wife, after all.”

  I look at Serene. “That she is.”

  She gives me a nervous smile and eyes me warily. I find that ironic, considering she’s been mingling with veritable hyenas all night. All around us, people pair up and wait for the next dance to begin.

  Expectantly, I hold my hand out and quietly wait. After a few seconds, Serene places her hand in mine. I remain a step behind her as she takes short, dainty steps forward, then elegantly turns toward me. I raise my arm to allow her to spin once. Then we face each other. Her left hand gently rests on my shoulder, whereas my right settles against the middle of her back. Her right hand is clasped in mine.

  Like the rest of the couples, we move in tandem. When her foot tips forward, mine moves back. Serene’s lips are in a firm line as we move across the room.

  Then she whispers, “What was that?”

  I give her a blank look.

  Serene rolls her eyes before she puts on a false smile and says out of the corner of her mouth, “You know what I’m talking about. You practically ripped your brother’s head off, and all he did was dance with me.”

  “You clearly don’t know my brother.” I may have overreacted, but I’m not about to admit that to her.

  To my surprise, we move in full circles. Not polished like everyone else, but good enough that no one looks twice at us. Serene’s shoulders are pushed back; her chin is at a stubborn tilt.

  “What were you and McBride talkin’ about?” I ask, making sure my voice sounds indifferent.

  She frowns. “You mean Trevor?”

  “You two are on a first-name basis?” I counter.

  Serene sighs. I unconsciously tighten my grip on her hand, making her arch a brow. “We talked about nothing important. He asked if I was enjoying myself tonight. Complimented my dress.”

  “I’m sure he did,” I mutter.

  Serene pointedly ignores me. “This is my first time meeting him. He seems like a nice guy.”

  “You two shared a laugh,” I say with a hint of accusation.

  Our feet slide across the floor. We pause long enough for me to transfer her right hand to my left, allowing her to gracefully turn. Our positions change, and now we’re side by side. Her shoulder is directly below mine and inches away. She holds out her left arm, slightly bent at the elbow, and gently rests her hand on mine. My right hand settles directly above her right hip. She places her hand in front of mine and her fingers curl so her knuckles rest against her hip.

  “Étienne, were you watching us?” she asks innocently, but I hear the curiosity in her voice.

  Before I answer, I see Trevor cloistered with a group of men, all of whom I’ve spoken to a handful of times, yet I now view them as enemies. They see the Old Serene in their midst, but they realize something isn’t quite right about her. They’re all intrigued.

  My hand reflexively tightens against her hip. “I wasn’t watching. You were directly in front of me. Where else do you propose I look?”

  Serene obviously isn’t convinced, but she doesn’t say a word. We continue across the floor. Every so often she stumbles over her feet but immediately rights herself.

  “What about you and that woman?” she says out of the blue.

  My brows become tightly knit. “What woman?”

  She rolls her eyes impatiently. “That lady you were talking to. The brunette?”

  “Oh! You mean Phoebe?” Serene stares at me.

  It occurs to me that she has been doing some watching of her own. “What do you want to know?”

  “Have you… seen her before?” she asks casually.

  When she says “seen,” I know she means something else entirely. She wants to know if I’ve been intimate with Phoebe. I’ve shared nearly everything else about my life with Serene, so would I hide this? Yet I find myself hesitating, even feeling a bit guilty.

  “Yes. I have.”

  Her body stiffens. “Do you still see her?”

  Serene is jealous. Serene is jealous of Phoebe. That shouldn’t thrill me, but it does.

  I let the silence between us extend for a few more seconds before I reply. “No, I don’t.”

  She glances at her feet and
exhales before she looks me in the eye. “Good.”

  The music comes to an end as we face each other. Her mouth opens and closes. She wants to say something. I feel like one of those lovesick buffoons who have been watching her all night, anxiously waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.

  I want to tell her that I’m sorry for not believing her the handful of times she told me she wasn’t my wife. But I’m not exactly known for being eloquent with my words. The confession would come out more like a bark and probably frighten her off.

  Right then, Nat walks up, breaking our staring contest. Serene looks away first.

  My sister gazes at me with bleary eyes. “Étienne, I’m exhausted.”

  “It’s only a quarter after ten.”

  “I know, but Serene woke me up early this mornin’ to take a walk, and I’ve been dancin’ the entire night. My feet can’t take much more.”

  I glance at Serene. “Are you ready to leave?”

  I expect her to grab onto my words like a lifeline. Here’s her opportunity to escape.

  Instead, she blinks a few times before she glances around the room. “I think I want to stay.”

  Nathalie yawns and looks close to falling asleep on my shoulder.

  I step closer to Serene and lower my voice. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You did fantastic. You’ve shown your face, and now we can leave.”

  She remains impassive as she stares at me. It’s impossible to tell what’s running through that dangerously bright mind of hers. “I know, but I’m having a fun time.” She smiles at me.

  “You’re not staying here by yourself.”

  She looks at the ceiling, and a long-suffering sigh escapes her lips before she mutters, “How did I know you would say that?” Then she focuses all her attention on me. “Livingston is still here. I’ll ask him to take me home.” She has this all figured out. “I’m enjoying myself.”

  And then she tucks a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. It’s such an innocuous, feminine action. One I’ve rarely seen Serene do because she’s always too stressed about finding a way back to her time, too terrified that she’ll never leave this place. Who am I to steal a night of carefree fun away from her?