Before he could respond, the sharp sound of high heels echoed through the corridor.
Isabella had finally noticed her son’s absence. After searching through the ballroom, she found him sitting on the floor beside a dirty, barefoot child.
Embarrassment struck before compassion had a chance to reach her heart.
“Matthew!”
Her voice cut through the music.
Several guests turned toward the corridor.
Matthew looked up.
“Mom?”
Isabella marched toward him, her expression tight with anger.
“What are you doing down there?”
“He was hungry.”
Luke scrambled to his feet, nearly dropping the plate.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t take anything.”
Matthew immediately stepped between Luke and his mother.
“He didn’t steal it. I gave it to him.”
Isabella stared at the boy’s torn clothes and muddy feet. All she could think about was the attention they were attracting.
“This is a private event,” she said. “He cannot be here.”
“Why not?”
“Because he wasn’t invited.”
