Lorelei departed as soon as Arkady gave his goodbyes to his friend.
Then it was just him and me.
The travel home was quiet despite Arkady’s cheerful demeanor only moments before. The walk, the coach ride, even when we entered the town house. Silence.
There was no cheery small talk, no silent expressions exchanged, not even questions about our days.
I retreated to my room the minute we arrived. The putrid feeling inside me was brought on by just the sight of him. I wasn’t sure if it was due to his presence or the fact that he was a reminder of what we’d done did. WhatI’ddone.
The ornate mirror held a figure, mine, but she felt like a stranger. Staring back at me with such judgmental eyes. There was nothing remarkable about my thoughts as I did so, just that it was clear I needed time alone. Gradually, I worked at undoing the layers of my walking suit.
“Who was that?” His voice spoke from the doorway.
“A childhood friend.”
“The ballet?”
I didn’t answer, reaching behind my head to fiddle with the top few clasps of my dress.
The creaking of the floors accompanied his moving image in the mirror, his body towering behind me as he reached forward.
I flinched, but his hands brushed against the back of my neck, undoing the buttons with ease. With each button, the fabric became more lax until I could finish it on my own.
“Who wasyourfriend?” I asked, but it was only because the silence was uncomfortable.
“Konstantin,” he said, the mirror cutting off the reflection of his face so I couldn’t gauge his reaction. “We are like brothers.” He offered the explanation without asking.
“Likebrothers?”
“Yes.”
I nodded and moved forward, slipping the top of my walking suit off, the thin fabric of my corset cover leaving little to the imagination.
Arkady didn’t move, nonchalant in attitude. His hands were in his pockets, perhaps to hide a clenched fist?
I glanced at him over my shoulder, playing with the buttons of my skirt.
“Are you getting shy on me now?” He raised a brow.
I shrugged, popping open one clasp, then the next, letting the skirt begin to fall off my hips, the fabric of the petticoat peeking from under the hem.
Arkady took a step, but I turned around fully, stopping him with a glare.
He furrowed his brow, confused at the gesture.
I dropped the skirt, now only my sheer undergarments on display.
What kind of man was Arkady Kamenev? I still didn’t have a satisfying enough answer.
He stood straight, studying my posture, my movements.
I turned around again, pulling the cover over my head, the steel-boned corset on full display. Through the mirror, I could see his eyes, but they weren’t on the corset, the dress—no, his eyes caught mine, and instinctually my gaze went to the floor.
This is when he approached again, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder, the warmth of his fingertips leaving a trail of fine raised hairs.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Just ask,” I breathed, glancing as his hand moved over my skin.
