"Captain Harrington," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the now completely silent ballroom, respect evident in every syllable. "Welcome home, ma'am."
The words landed with the force of an explosion in the stunned quiet that followed. Eleanor felt tears gathering unexpectedly in her eyes, her hand rising instinctively to clutch the fabric of her gown against her chest, overwhelmed by an acknowledgment she'd never once received from anyone standing in this ballroom tonight.
Vivian's mocking expression had collapsed entirely into open shock, her mouth falling open as the full weight of the officer's words — and rank, and salute — settled over the gathered crowd. Richard's face had drained of color entirely, the crystal glass nearly slipping from his own suddenly unsteady grip.
Several other naval officers scattered throughout the ballroom, apparently only now registering who exactly Eleanor was, straightened to attention themselves, a ripple of recognition spreading through the uniformed guests with startling speed. Whatever mockery Vivian had intended for this evening had, in the space of a single sentence, become something else entirely — a public reckoning neither she nor Richard had anticipated needing to survive.