the second, Vivienne wiped at one eye and looked angry with herself for doing it.
By the final sweep of the waltz, the applause began at the back of the room and rolled forward until it filled the ballroom.
Clara bowed to Mr. Bennett. He bowed to her. The old man’s face trembled with emotion he was trying not to show.
Then Clara faced Alex again.
The applause died.
‘You offered fifty thousand dollars,’ she said.
Alex’s face hardened. ‘Fine. I will transfer it.’
‘Not to me.’
He blinked.
Clara gestured toward the staff. ‘To them. Split evenly among everyone working tonight.’
A sound moved through the workers at the walls. Not quite a cheer. Not yet. Something more fragile.
Hope.
Alex opened his mouth, closed it, then forced a smile that looked painful. ‘Of course. A generous gesture. Done.’
‘By midnight,’ Clara said.
The smile disappeared.
‘Estate counsel will confirm it.’
At the mention of counsel, a woman in a black suit stepped forward from near the stage. Alex recognized her from the negotiation packet: Meredith Shaw, legal director for the Whitmore Trust. She did not smile at him.
That was when fear finally reached his eyes.
Clara handed Meredith a folder.
‘There is another matter,’ Clara said.
Alex knew before she said it.
He felt it coming the way a person feels a storm in old bones.
Meredith opened the folder and spoke into the microphone. ‘The Whitmore Trust has completed its preliminary review of the redevelopment proposal submitted by Lorne Capital. Under the ownership provisions activated after Mrs. Whitmore’s passing, Miss Vale has authority to approve, delay, or reject any proposal affecting the ballroom foundation, east garden, or adjoining grounds.’
The room listened with the delighted horror of people watching someone powerful fall from a height.
Meredith turned a page.
‘Miss Vale has declined the proposal.’
Alex stepped forward. ‘You cannot be serious.’
Clara’s expression did not change.
‘I am very serious.’
‘Because I offended you?’
‘Because you revealed yourself.’
His hands curled at his sides. ‘You are making a multimillion-dollar decision based on one unpleasant moment.’
Clara looked toward Pembroke.
The host pressed a button on a small remote.
A screen descended behind the orchestra.
Alex’s stomach dropped.
The first image appeared. A still from earlier that evening showed him snapping his fingers at a server who had not refilled his glass quickly enough.
The next showed him stepping directly in front of a cleaner and making the man wait while Alex finished a conversation.
Then came a short video from the corridor outside the dining salon. Alex’s own voice filled the ballroom.
‘People like that are lucky to be near people like us.’
Vivienne made a small sound and covered her mouth.
Alex spun toward Clara. ‘You recorded me?’
‘The estate records public service corridors for security,’ Meredith said calmly.
Clara watched him with no visible satisfaction. That somehow made it worse.
‘My grandmother’s final instruction was simple,’ Clara said. ‘Protect the estate from anyone who sees people as decoration.’
The sentence seemed to settle into the gold walls.
Alex looked around the ballroom, searching for allies. The senator’s son avoided his gaze. The donors who had laughed earlier were suddenly fascinated by their shoes. Vivienne took another step away from him.
He lowered his
