The way, just now, his voice alone had made the world feel a little less heavy.
She pushed the thought away, violently, firmly, before it could take root.
She had not felt anything.
She wouldneverfeel anything.
This was not real.
And it never would be.
With a steadying breath, she lifted her chin, forcing her expression back into cool indifference.
“That,” she said as evenly as she could manage, “is a rather romantic notion coming from you, Your Grace.”
Evan smirked, but something in his gaze had shifted.
“You should know by now that I am unpredictable.”
She exhaled. “Let us not speak of such things again.”
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
And as the music swelled around them, Isadora pretended she did not feel something unraveling inside her.
CHAPTER 14
The waltz ended, and Isadora barely managed to keep her expression composed as Evan led her from the dance floor.
She had spent the last few minutes doing everything in her power to forget the way his words had unsettled her.
But it was impossible.
No one had ever spoken to her like that before. As if love was not a weight but a force that could lift her instead of crushing her.
She hated it because it made her wonder.
And wondering wasdangerous.
“You are unusually quiet,” Evan murmured beside her as they reached the edge of the ballroom.
Isadora forced a small smile, reaching for a glass of champagne from a passing tray.
“I was simply enjoying the evening,” she replied smoothly.
“I have my doubts.”
She ignored him, taking a deliberate sip.
Before he could press further, a new presence approached.
“Your Grace.”
Both of them turned to see Lord Fernsby, a gentleman of considerable wealth and very little charm, bowing before them.
Evan’s entire demeanor shifted.
“Fernsby,” Evan greeted.
