I climbed to my feet and crept to the door, peeking out into a silent hallway. Most of the guests would have arrived by now, I surmised. The ballroom would be bustling and lively. It might be easy to be overlooked with the ruckus around us. And I really only needed to make an appearance and have a word with Isabel. Then I could retreat to safety. I only had to watch out for Thomas, perhaps time my movements while he was engaged in dancing. Yes, that could work. I would simply need to tread carefully.
I approached the ballroom with trepidation. The alcoves added an element of concealment that could work to my advantage. If I could slip from one room to the other unnoticed by Thomas, I should be alright for the short time I needed to fulfill my needs.
I watched the ballroom from the shadows of the doorway. Couples were dancing the quadrille, laughter bubbling up over the stilted performance of a young man on the piano who looked ready to cry. The room was noisy and bustling, which suited my purposes perfectly. I couldn’t make out Thomas amid the sea of faces, but I did spot Cecelia scolding Melbourne nearby. Zachariah was making conversation with the duchess, and I noticed with interest that he made notes with a quill as they spoke. He was perhaps helping to score this portion of the competition. He would likely have the ear for it, given his level of taste.
Then I spotted Isabel across the room, eyes narrowed as she watched the dancers. Her arms were crossed, Violetta speaking beside her, perhaps trying to soothe a bruised ego? The murder in Isabel’s eyes led me to believe she’d been passed over for Ambrose’s first dance.
I stepped into the room as the current performer ended his middling playing, intending to make a beeline for Isabel.
“There you are.”
I started, pasting on a wide grin as Ambrose slunk over to me. He looked the height of fashion in a dark green suede suit. “Looking for me?” I asked.
“All over,” Ambrose admitted. “I think Maxwell was about to send servants scouring the house.”
I gestured vaguely around. “I needed some air is all.”
“You promised me a dance.”
“So I did.”
We turned to watch a handsome boy step up to the performers’ alcove to choose an instrument. He seemed much more confident than the previous boy, picking up a violin with a flourish before beginning.
The crowd nodded in approval and as one, began to dance the minuet.
Ambrose leaned into me. “Shall we?” He held out a hand.
I hesitated, glancing around for signs of Thomas. With any luck, he was still walking the house with Maxwell in a vain attempt to find me. I felt a little bad for the misdirection, but it had been necessary. Joining Ambrose in this dance would ensure the eyes of the entire room, but I couldn’t outright refuse him. This was why I was here, to make this man fall madly in love with me. I couldn’t do that if I didn’t take some risks.
I accepted his hand and was swept out onto the floor. I soon found myself lost in the music, laughing as I was carried along with the dancing couples. Ambrose was a good dancer, even if his hands were clammy. When a waltz began next, I bowed to take my leave, but Ambrose’s hand found my back and he pulled me closer, a possessiveness that made my blood boil. He could at leastaskif I would care for another dance. But I pasted on a smile and allowed him to take me through the opening steps. He preened for the watching crowd and I fought the urge to roll my eyes as my hand wandered over the velvety back of his jacket.
I wondered how Maxwell’s back would feel beneath my hands.
I blinked. Where had that thought come from? Maxwell had nothing to do with this moment. Maxwell had nothing to do with why I was here whatsoever, save for the mystery he’d pushed me into that could hold the key to the men in robes. Stupid intrusive thoughts. I needed to distract myself. “Did you have a chance to speak with Isabel?” I asked.
Ambrose roused himself, seeming to recall that he had a partner. “I plan to just before we leave tomorrow. But let’s not talk about her just now.” His eyes kept finding my lips.
I quirked an eyebrow. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Let’s talk about us.”
My hand tightened on Ambrose’s as my heart stuttered. This was promising. “What about us?”
His voice was husky. “Lucian, you’re unlike any—”
“Get your claws out of him, you foul demon!”
I stiffened, Ambrose’s eyes darting to the figure I felt looming over my shoulder as the room came to an abrupt halt. The music stumbled, then made way for silence.
Thomas. Of course he would choose now to confront me. I supposed I had this coming.
I turned slowly to face the beautiful boy from my dungeon, his finger lifted to point at me, accusingly. It trembled slightly.
I would have to play the next part carefully if I didn’t want to wind up at the end of a wooden stake.
I blinked, letting confusion pull at my features. I sent Ambrose an uncertain glance. Ambrose returned it, mirroring my own horror at the situation.
“Thomas?” Ambrose said, stepping forward. “What is the meaning of this?”
