*Evangeline*
I knew Claybourne wouldn’t come, but still as the clock ticks toward midnight, I am disappointed. It is terribly difficult to attend this ball and not reveal how much I loathe my host. He seems so pleasant. No one can see the monster that lives within his skin.
Even Wicky gives nothing away, keeping a stiff upper lip, and pretending that all is right with the world. Sometimes I am as angry with Wicky as I am with Riverdale. But I smile and laugh and flirt with all the gentlemen who dance with me, not revealing to any of them that he is not the one I long to waltz with.
Just once, I want to be held within the circle of Claybourne’s arms and hold his gaze while my feet whisper over the dance floor. Just once, I wish he would look at me the way he looks at Frannie. The depth o
