Chapter 2
Moving with seamless, quiet grace through the crowded, luminous room was Mae Hollis. At twenty-seven, the housemaid possessed a beauty that rivaled any movie star in the room. She had a softly oval face, gently defined cheekbones, and expressive brows that framed intelligent, observant eyes. Her dark hair was pinned meticulously into a smooth, low chignon, exposing the delicate line of her neck. Her slender figure and graceful posture were perfectly highlighted by her sophisticated black maid dress. The uniform featured a cinched waist, a fitted silhouette, a short A-line skirt, and a neatly tied white apron, finished with a pristine white collar and cuffs.
Mae approached the head of the table, carrying a silver tray bearing a delicate porcelain teapot. The warm golden light from the tall ivory candles, flickering safely inside their crystal hurricane holders, illuminated her fair, rosy skin. As she navigated the space between the cream upholstered chairs, she kept her focus entirely on her duties, though her perceptive nature picked up on the stifling, silent tension radiating from the elderly woman seated beside the boss.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Mercer," Mae murmured softly, her American accent warm and respectful. "I have the chamomile tea you requested."
Esther offered a fragile, trembling smile, her eyes darting nervously toward Juliette across the table before returning to the maid. "Thank you, my dear. You are always so kind."
"Is there anything else I can bring for you?" Mae asked, her voice a gentle whisper designed not to intrude on the louder conversations of the surrounding guests.
"No, just the tea is lovely," Esther replied.
Mae stepped closer, carefully lifting the ornate silver teapot. The room’s clean, clear lighting caught the polished highlights of the silver as she poured the steaming, fragrant liquid into the gold-rimmed porcelain cup resting before Esther. The low arrangements of cream roses separating the place settings filled the air with a soft, sweet perfume.
As Mae finished pouring, Esther slowly reached out her frail hand to take the cup by its delicate handle.
In that brief, simple movement, the heavy silk sleeve of Esther’s dinner dress slipped backward by an inch. The broad gold cuff bracelet that Juliette had so insistently gifted her shifted awkwardly against the elderly woman's fragile wrist.
Mae’s expressive brows drew together. As the heavy gold metal shifted, it exposed the edge of a harsh, dark purple mark blooming fiercely against Esther’s pale, rosy skin. It was an unmistakable, violent bruise, completely at odds with the bright, airy elegance of the engagement dinner.
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Esther let out a tiny, involuntary wince of pain as the heavy bracelet scraped against the tender, injured flesh. She immediately tried to yank her sleeve back down, her eyes widening in sudden, unadulterated panic.
Mae’s heart broke instantly. Acting on pure, protective instinct, the beautiful housemaid gently set the silver teapot down on the white damask tablecloth. Without a second thought for the strict protocols of the formal dinner, Mae reached her hand out toward the heavy gold clasp of the bracelet, intending to loosen it and relieve the elderly woman's silent, agonizing suffering.
