Charles arrived shortly after 8:00. The moment he entered the ballroom, he crossed directly toward Genevieve. Her expression brightened.
"You made it!"
"I promised I would." Charles offered his arm. "May I have the first dance?"
Genevieve laughed softly. "You planned that answer in advance."
"Obviously."
She accepted. Together, they moved onto the dance floor. Nathaniel watched from across the room. The sight should have pleased him: Charles treated her well, better than most people did. Yet, jealousy remained an unpleasant companion; he forced himself to focus elsewhere.
Unfortunately, the evening soon provided a far more serious concern. During a break between dances, Nathaniel noticed Victoria speaking quietly with a group of young aristocratic women near the refreshment tables. Their expressions shifted repeatedly toward Genevieve: smiles appeared, then whispers, then more smiles. A familiar sense of unease settled over him.
Twenty minutes later, the whispers had spread. Nathaniel watched it happen: one conversation became two; two became five. Guests glanced toward Genevieve with increasing frequency—some looked amused, others curious, a few openly judgmental. Whatever story was circulating, it was moving quickly. Charles appeared unaware; Genevieve seemed confused; Victoria looked perfectly relaxed. Nathaniel felt anger beginning to rise.
Then he heard the first comment.
"Apparently, she spends quite a lot of time in the stables." A woman laughed behind a fan.
"More than necessary, I am told." Another guest smiled knowingly.
"Perhaps horses are not the only reason."
Quiet laughter followed. Nathaniel's jaw tightened. The implication was obvious: cruel, deliberate.
The rumors continued spreading:
"I heard she disappears for hours with one of the workers."
"How unusual."
"How embarrassing."
Every statement remained carefully indirect: nobody made direct accusations; nobody needed to; the crowd supplied its own conclusions.
Genevieve gradually became aware of the shifting atmosphere. Nathaniel saw it in her eyes: the confusion, then realization, then hurt. Yet she maintained her composure; as always, that somehow made everything worse.
Near the center of the ballroom, a group of guests gathered around Victoria. Their conversation grew increasingly animated. Nathaniel moved closer—not enough to attract attention, close enough to listen.
"Surely the stories are exaggerated," one woman remarked.
Victoria laughed lightly. "I would never spread gossip."
"Of course not."