[ Greer'd been to only a small share of parties like this, at Cambridge — Leo Galloway's granddaughter had been expected to keep her grades up, to study, not to participate in any kind of revelry, and certainly not to let her head be turned by any boys. It's why tonight feels so freeing, why she makes a point of donning a white-and-gold brocaded domino mask even if very few others are. Here, she doesn't need to be Greer Galloway, heir of a political dynasty with roots in the White House to show for it. But she probably still stands out here in more ways than one — her white summer gown looks more like a wedding dress than anything suited for a party like this, themed around debauchery, and even though she's been carrying around a glass of wine in one hand for the better part of an hour, she's barely sipped from it.
Slipping away to the maze is an opportunity for her to catch her breath, to gather her bearings, to figure out if it's not too late for her to ask Giles to call yet another cab for her since the first one never seemed to show. But she doesn't get as far as dwelling on the last part before someone starts to swagger up to her, clearly drunk or high or some combination of the two.
The veil feels like a particularly cruel trick, set atop her head without any finesse and hanging askew, but Greer's initial response dies in her throat when the stranger — who isn't so strange at all — finally glances up at her from his position kneeling at her feet, the moonlight casting an otherworldly glow on his handsome features. ]
I do. [ Believe in God, her mind summons, even as the words don't make it past her lips; she stretches out a pale hand, strafes a light touch over the strength of a familiar jaw. His fingers spanning her hip, his chin nudged against her stomach, makes something in her chest ache. Had she forgotten how beautiful he was until now? She can't even so much as force out the name of the second man who broke her heart. ]
let them eat cake;
Slipping away to the maze is an opportunity for her to catch her breath, to gather her bearings, to figure out if it's not too late for her to ask Giles to call yet another cab for her since the first one never seemed to show. But she doesn't get as far as dwelling on the last part before someone starts to swagger up to her, clearly drunk or high or some combination of the two.
The veil feels like a particularly cruel trick, set atop her head without any finesse and hanging askew, but Greer's initial response dies in her throat when the stranger — who isn't so strange at all — finally glances up at her from his position kneeling at her feet, the moonlight casting an otherworldly glow on his handsome features. ]
I do. [ Believe in God, her mind summons, even as the words don't make it past her lips; she stretches out a pale hand, strafes a light touch over the strength of a familiar jaw. His fingers spanning her hip, his chin nudged against her stomach, makes something in her chest ache. Had she forgotten how beautiful he was until now? She can't even so much as force out the name of the second man who broke her heart. ]