CHAPTER 6: The Doors at the End of the Hall

For three minutes, nobody knew what to do with themselves.
The string quartet stopped playing. Servers lowered trays. Guests who had laughed earlier began studying the floor as if shame could be avoided by looking down.
Carter stepped closer to Grace, lowering his voice into the tone he used when he wanted obedience without witnesses.
“You need to end this right now.”
Grace held Lily tighter.
“I did.”
At the end of the ballroom, the tall double doors came into view as every head turned.
The brass handles moved.
Both doors opened inward.
Charles Whitmore entered slowly in a black tuxedo, silver hair combed back, expression calm enough to make the room colder. Two men in dark suits walked behind him, and a woman with a leather folder followed at his side.
Margaret's emerald dress seemed to lose its color.
Carter whispered, “Mr. Whitmore?”
Grace did not correct him.
Charles crossed the marble floor and stopped in front of Lily first.
He removed his handkerchief and offered it to the little girl.
Grace watched Lily's tiny fingers close around the handkerchief. It was monogrammed in silver thread. The kind of detail Margaret would have admired if it had belonged to anyone except the child she had tried to disgrace.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said. “I'm sorry I was late.”