The stranger turned to her, his expression utterly composed.
“You are Miss Ellory,” he said.
It was not a question.
She could not speak as he extended his hand. He was waiting, and he seemed the kind not to wait too long for anything.
She stared at it then at him then back again, every nerve in her arm screaming in confusion. Something inside her, something proud and private, told her to refuse. But the rest of her? The rest of her couldn’t move.
Her hand lifted before she gave it leave. It hovered there for a breath too long. And then, with maddening gentleness, he closed his fingers over hers and led her silently to the floor, just as the music returned with a single pluck of a string.
The waltz began in a low, haunting swell of strings, rising around them like mist curling off the river at dawn. Her hand, still enclosed in his, felt hot despite the chill of his gloves.
He was taller than most dance partners. She had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze, and she hated that. She hated how aware she was of his nearness. The precision of his steps. The steadiness of his hand on her waist.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes with her smile taut and furious. She kept her voice low and clipped as she leaned in just enough to be heard.
“How dare you.”
His eyes glinted grey-blue, like steel wrapped in fog.
“Good evening to you, too, Miss Ellory.”
“What makes you think you can act this way?” she hissed, keeping her expression passably composed for the watching crowd. “You walked in like a storm and dismissed my partner like a valet.”
“I thought he looked uncomfortable,” he said mildly. “And dull.”
“Youare uncomfortable,” she snapped.
“Only slightly.” His hand shifted infinitesimally at her back. “And only because you keep glaring at me like you intend to stab me with your hairpin.”
She gritted her teeth. “I just might.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
“Has anyone told you,” he said smoothly, “that you are very much like your mother?”
Evelyn drew back a half inch, looking utterly scandalized. “You presume to know Lady Brimwood?”
“I presume nothing,” he corrected her in an even tone of voice. “I merely observe and make conclusions. You must get your fire from her.”
Evelyn inhaled sharply. “You are insufferably rude.”
“And yet here we are,” he said, guiding her into a graceful turn. “You haven’t left the dance floor.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Because it would cause a scene.”
“Oh,” he murmured, lowering his head slightly, “and heaven forbidyoucause a scene.”
Her lips parted in outrage. “You don’t know me.”
“I’m learning.”
“And I find your arrogance appalling.”
“I’ve been told worse.”
“I can only imagine.”
