The corner of his eyes crinkled with appreciation and color bloomed on his cheeks at her compliment. But he only inclined his head and tucked her hand on his arm as he helped her descend the stairs and depart for the ball.
Together, they entered the grand Fifth Avenue mansion. According to Wang, this was the pinnacle of a prestigious address in New York, akin to Grosvenor Square in London. Well, she had attended many a ball at a Grosvenor Square residence. She had never been haughty—it was not in her nature—but neither was she intimidated by haughtiness or the flashy display of the lavish mansion.
The gilded chandeliers of Lady Caroline’s grand ballroom cast a golden glow over the assembled elite of New York, their jewels glittering as they moved in swirling waves of silk and satin.Esther stood at the threshold, her gloved hand resting lightly on Wang’s arm.
He stood with quiet confidence, his posture effortlessly elegant, his expression unreadable but composed. If he felt the sting of their scrutiny, he did not show it. To Esther, he was the equal of any man present. But not everyone in attendance seemed to agree.
The first wave of greetings was measured. Some—those eager to court her favor—offered effusive pleasantries, their smiles too wide, their eyes darting to Wang before quickly skittering away. Others were cool, polite but distant, their greetings clipped, their gazes guarded. A few simply ignored them altogether, their disdain evident in the whispers that trailed in their wake like the rustling of silk skirts.
Through it all, Wang remained composed, his face an unreadable mask of quiet dignity. He neither courted their approval nor shrank beneath their scrutiny. When he inclined his head in greeting, his manners were impeccable, his voice measured and even. He did not seek to ingratiate himself, nor did he display the meekness they might have expected from a man of his background. He stood as he always did—unshaken, self-possessed, a man who knew his own worth and didn’t need to flaunt it.
And then, as if to defy them all, he led her onto the dance floor.
“I believe you wished for a dance, my lady.” His eyes bore into her as he extended his hand. The first strains of a waltz wafted from the orchestra.
She did not hesitate for a second. Placing her hand in his, he allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
Despite his claim that he could not dance, the moment he took her hand, she knew he had learned. He moved with innate grace, his steps precise yet fluid, guiding her across the polished floor with a quiet confidence that stole her breath. She had dreamedof dancing with him, but the reality surpassed her imaginings. They moved as one, with him measuring his steps to her level of comfort. If she ever faltered, he held her secure, his touch firm but careful, his gaze steady upon hers. It was not just a dance—it was a statement. Or perhaps a declaration of something he couldn’t put into words.
She caught sight of their audience from the corner of her eye. The whispers, the sidelong glances, the pursed lips of matrons too scandalized to speak but unwilling to look away. Let them whisper. Let them judge. She didn’t care, but maybe she had not stopped to consider how this would feel for Wang.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m dancing with the most beautiful woman in this ballroom. I’m feeling splendid.”
Her eyes smiled up at him. “And you said you couldn’t dance.”
“I learned.”
“You are a fast learner. You dance flawlessly, like I knew you would.”
As if to prove his prowess, he led her through a turn, never taking his eyes off her.
“I’m sorry if I’ve put you in an uncomfortable situation.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. Right now, just enjoy our dance. I know I am.”
When the music ended, she let out a shaky breath. She may be able to walk now, but dancing required quite a lot of stamina. He guided her from the floor, his hand resting lightly against the small of her back.
“How do you feel?” He was always so attuned to her needs.
“I am a bit tired,” she murmured, truth and excuse woven together.
Wang looked down at her, his dark eyes unreadable, though she knew he had seen and heard all that she had. Without hesitation, he inclined his head. “Then we shall go.”
They made their way toward the exit, past faces that welcomed her but struggled to mask their unease around Wang. She longed to stop, to tell them what a great man he was, to make them see what she saw. But she knew it would not matter. Not tonight.
Instead, she squeezed his arm and whispered, just for him, “Thank you for the dance.”
His lips quirked, the faintest hint of a smile. “It was my pleasure.”
And with that, they escaped the gilded cage of the ballroom, into the cool, crisp night beyond. She had not expected to win the battle tonight. Not really. Just as with her rehabilitation, it would take time and determined effort. But she had both. She left today, but they had made a statement. This was a strategic retreat to continue the battle another time.
***
Wang’s mood was spiraling down a dark vortex as he escorted Esther home that night. Not for him—he didn’t care one fig for the opinion of this stuck-up elite—but he was angry on Esther’s behalf. She had naively believed she could prevail upon them to accept him. He had known it would be impossible and thus should have protected her from disappointment. Instead, he had allowed this farce to play out, and now he regretted it.
The events of tonight had only driven home a truth he had always known. They didn’t belong together. He would never be accepted in the circles she belonged to. Their relationship had lasted in anonymity. Now that their association had become public, further entanglement would only drag her down. Mire her in scandal and gossip. He couldn’t allow that to happen. She had made a full recovery—the way they had danced tonight was conclusive proof of that. It was time to let her go.
