“You flatter me, Princess Genevieve, but I’m nothing compared to your betrothed.” His voice is deep and smooth, the slight Icelantican accent more pronounced as he lowers his face near mine. The gold flecks in his green eyes are astonishingly similar to Kieran’s, but where Kieran’s gaze once brimmed with warmth, his carries a shadow of harshness. Kieran was all easy smiles and brash confidence.
“Prince Leland is very skilled, but you have a natural grace. You must dance often at Whitehurst.”
Mr. Blackwell lets out a low scoff. “Does this surprise you, Princess?”
He saysprincessas though it’s an insult. Perhaps it is to him—a self-made man, without even a blueblood’s gift to aid his success. “Certainly not. Although a busy man like yourself must find it difficult to make time for such frivolous activities as dancing.”
His eyes pierce me as he dips me low enough that my breath catches. Would he dare drop me? His lips curve into that easy smirk, and I’m not sure whether he means to hold me steady or prove me wrong by letting me fall. He looks as though he might do it just to spite me.
“Do I look like a man who wastes his time on frivolous activities, Princess?” he whispers in my ear. They way he says it is almost indecent. This near, I can smell the spice of his cologne—expensive, no doubt, but beneath it lingers something familiar. Something that makes my eyes sting.
It can’t be.
Hecan’t be.
I feel lost in the sensation of this powerful man holding me close. The familiarity in his embrace is like the touch of a ghost, and I suddenly need to get very far away from Morris Blackwell. I can’t stay here—not when being in his arms feels so good, something I never expected to feel again.
“I don’t think there’s anything frivolous about you, Mr. Blackwell.” My voice comes out choked, and I flush with embarrassment at my candid words.
The song ends, and Mr. Blackwell releases me before bowing and taking his leave without another word. He seems as affected by our nearness as I am. I jump when I feel Mari’s hand on my shoulder. Her eyes are wide, and a mischievous smile peeks from beneath her mask.
“Genny, what was happening between you and Mr. Blackwell?” she asks, linking her arm through mine as she tugs me across the ballroom toward Astoria.
“Whatever do you mean?” I ask, recovering my demure posture.
“It means the entire court saw how you two were dancing. It was positively exhilarating!”
I blanch at Mari’s words. If the whole court saw me move in a way that could be described asexhilarating, then our dance will be the subject of gossip by morning. “Did Mother say anything?”
Mari plucks two more flutes of sparkling wine from a passing servant before handing one to me. I shouldn’t drink it—not with the riotous feelings still stuttering through my veins, not when it feels as though I’ve just been in the arms of a man I was never meant to see again. Still, I take a generous sip, hoping the wine will bring me back to my senses. “She was busy dancing with Lord Willoughby, but Queen Kalise looked ready to intercede.”
“And Prince Leland?” I can’t believe I behaved so scandalously in front of my betrothed—just before our engagement is to be officially announced to the court.
“I didn’t notice him. Perhaps he stepped out?”
I scan the room but don’t see Prince Leland anywhere. I need to speak with him, to check on him and present a unified front before our announcement. We need to dance again, to laugh and flirt together in front of the court. It’s crucial that the kingdom knows I’m committed to this marriage.
I finish my sparkling wine in a less-than-ladylike gulp before turning toward the terrace. “I’m going to look for him. If Mother asks for me, make up some excuse.”
Mari’s lips quirk into a wide smile. “I’ll be sure nobody remembers your dance with Mr. Blackwell.”
“Mari…” I warn, knowing my vibrant sister loves nothing more than to make our mother miserable with scandalous behavior that leads to salacious gossip.
She flicks her gloved hand at me. “Genny, this is what I live for.”
I turn away, trying not to dwell on what trouble she’ll cause next. At the last ball, she was caught in a compromising position with a redblood on the very terrace I’m now walking toward.
My skin tingles as I step into the cool night air. A man stands in the shadows on the far side of the terrace. He’s tall, but in the darkness I can’t be sure if it’s Leland.
“Prince Leland?” I call before the man turns.
It isn’t Leland. In fact, it’s the last person I should be approaching alone in the dark. I should turn and leave, but Mr. Blackwell is already facing me—and I can’t look away. I freeze as he approaches with purposeful strides that make my skin prickle. When he reaches me, he’s so close I can feel the heat of his body near mine. I gulp in a breath, knowing I should step back, create distance between us. But even as my mind urges me to move, my body leans toward him, drawn by the familiarity of his scent and the pull of his warmth—an attraction I seem powerless to resist.
Mr. Blackwell lifts a hand to my face, brushing a stray lock of hair aside. His fingers caress my exposed cheek, and I pull back, afraid that in my heightened state I’ll pour my gift into him.
He doesn’t press me further. Instead, he raises his mask to reveal a face so familiar, yet so changed, I don’t know what to think.
“Kieran?” The name catches in my throat, a stilted word carried on dusk’s breeze.
