"Get out of my sight!" Lady Beatrix Beaumont hissed, yanking her daughter Clara into an empty alcove off the palace corridor. The celebration continued in the grand ballroom, music and laughter floating distantly down the hallway.
I'd been about to return to the ballroom after stepping out briefly when I heard the harsh whispers. Instinctively, I pressed myself against the wall, hidden from view but able to catch every word.
"Mother, did you see how Isabella—" Clara began, her voice thick with frustration.
"Enough about Isabella!" Lady Beatrix snapped. "Your obsession with your stepsister is becoming pathetic. You have far more important matters to focus on."
"But Gabriella said—"
"I don't care what that vicious little snake said to provoke you," Lady Beatrix cut in. "You're engaged to Marquess Lucian Fairchild. Do you understand what that means? You'll soon outrank most of the women in that ballroom."
Clara's voice took on a petulant tone. "Isabella still outranks me."
