Lorraine stood by the marble balcony that overlooked the ballroom, her lips curved in a faint smile as she watched the sea of laughter and music below. The chandeliers glittered above like captured constellations, scattering light over silk gowns, flushed cheeks, and swirling skirts. The scent of honeyed wine and spiced meat drifted through the air, mingling with the hum of violins and the pulse of drums.
Her maids were radiant tonight. The younger ones blushed furiously as the men they fancied gathered the courage to ask them for a dance; the older ones clapped along, spinning with abandon, their laughter deep and uninhibited. Even the footmen who usually stood in corners now dared a glass of wine, their faces glowing red. Lorraine had wanted this day to belong to them, to those who had served, suffered, and smiled through every storm.
