Victoria approached then, appearing concerned. "What is happening?" The performance would have been impressive if Nathaniel had not already seen the truth.
The older woman smiled. "Merely offering advice."
Victoria sighed dramatically. "People can be so cruel."
The hypocrisy nearly made Nathaniel step forward despite the risk. Genevieve looked at her cousin for a long moment. Something changed in her expression: not certainty—suspicion. For the first time, real suspicion.
Victoria saw it, too. Their eyes locked briefly across the crowded ballroom. Then Victoria smiled again—too quickly, too perfectly. Genevieve noticed; Nathaniel noticed. The moment passed. Yet something important had happened: another piece of the puzzle had shifted into place.
Unfortunately, the humiliation was not finished. A young nobleman raised his glass nearby. "Perhaps Miss Carter simply enjoys practical education."
Laughter erupted.
"Very practical."
More laughter followed—this time louder, crueler. Genevieve's composure finally cracked: not publicly, not dramatically; her chin lifted slightly, her eyes glistened. Only someone watching carefully would notice. Nathaniel noticed; Charles noticed. Neither could do anything without worsening the situation; the cruelty of that reality felt unbearable.
Genevieve set down her untouched drink. "Excuse me." Her voice remained steady; somehow that made it more heartbreaking. She turned and walked toward the ballroom exit.
Nobody stopped her: not Lord Carter, not Victoria, not the guests enjoying the spectacle. Charles started after her; Nathaniel moved first. He slipped through a side corridor and reached the terrace before she emerged.
Cool night air greeted her as she stepped outside. Music continued faintly behind the closed doors. For several seconds, she simply stood there staring into the darkness. Nathaniel remained near the shadows, unsure whether he should approach.
Then Genevieve laughed once—a small, broken sound he had never heard from her before. "How foolish." The words were barely audible. She pressed one hand against the terrace railing. Nathaniel saw her shoulders rise with a slow breath, then another, holding herself together: alone again.
"Genevieve."
She turned immediately. Surprise crossed her face when she recognized him. "Alex." Her smile attempted to appear normal; failed completely. "You should be inside."
"So should you."
Silence followed. The distance between them felt unusually fragile.
Genevieve looked toward the stars. "Perhaps they are right."
Nathaniel's expression hardened. "No."
"You did not even ask what I meant."
"Because I know."
She laughed softly. "Confident."
"Certain."