Eleanor’s lips parted, then closed again. She looked away briefly, as if something in his tone had struck too close.
They completed another turn. The music began to approach its ending.
Eleanor’s hand in his felt warmer now. Or perhaps that was his imagination.
He should have released her when the dance ended.
He did not want to.
Eleanor looked up at him as the final notes approached, her expression carefully controlled, but her eyes carried a question she did not speak.
She wants another,he thought, startled by the clarity of it.
She wants me to ask again.
And he wanted to.
The last notes ended. The dancers bowed. Applause rose in polite waves.
James bowed to Eleanor.
“Thank you,” he said.
Eleanor dipped into a curtsey, her gaze still on him. “Of course.”
He offered his arm and guided her off the floor.
For a moment, it would have been easy to remain at her side. To ask her again. To keep her close enough that her scent and warmth did not fade.
But safety was not ease.
Safety was control.
James turned his head slightly and found Roderick watching from near the edge of the crowd, eyes bright with amusement and something sharper beneath it.
Business, James reminded himself.
The investigation. Harrowby. The driver’s name in the ledger. The need to watch who approached, who smiled too politely, who lingered.
He felt Eleanor’s gaze on him. He did not look at her.
“Roderick,” James said, pitching his voice casually.
Roderick approached with a grin. “A fine opening. I am shocked.”
James ignored the remark. “We should speak.”
Roderick’s eyes flicked to Eleanor. “Ah.”
Eleanor’s expression remained composed, but James saw the disappointment she was trying not to show. It was brief. It was controlled.
It still landed.
James forced his voice into calm politeness. “Enjoy the remainder of the set. I will return shortly.”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened faintly around her fan. “Of course.”
James bowed, then turned away.
