The ballroom is sparkling like a flute of champagne, completely drenched in golden candlelight.
Prince Bram takes me to the edge of the parquet floor as the orchestra kicks up a Viennese waltz. I’ve never danced with a boy—wasn’t allowed to until I was officially “out” in society—but Bram is a steady lead even with my unsure feet.
Back when my parents still hosted dinner parties and Lydia and I were banished upstairs, we’d listen to the music drift up from the floors below. We’d grasp hands and twirl until gravity wrenched us apart and we landed on the floor, toppled over and laughing.
It’s different like this, with a boy’s broad shoulders under my palms. His back rises and falls under my hands, and it sends something kicking in my chest.
I’m an awkward partner. I don’t quite know what to do with my limbs or where to move my head. It doesn’t help that I’m still flustered from Emmett’s infuriating confrontation. Twice, I step on Bram’s toes. He doesn’t say anything.
“You’re a good dancer,” I say, heart in my throat.
He grins as he turns us both in a wide circle around the floor. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
I scan the edge of the ballroom for Emmett and Faith, but they haven’t returned.
In my distraction, I stumble, but Bram doesn’t let me fall.
“Are your brother and Miss Fairchild acquainted?” I dare to ask.
“Their secrets aren’t mine to tell.”
I raise a brow. “Secrets—how scandalous.”
He chuffs out a low laugh. “Scandal seems to be a favorite hobby of my dear brother.”
The song ends, and Prince Bram bows to me. He begins to walk away.
“Wait!” I call. I’m not a romantic, I don’t think it’ll be me Bram chooses, but there’s this...tugI feel toward him. I’m completely fascinated by this boy with an easy smile who healed my hand with magic like it was as simple as breathing.
He turns back to me, a question on his face.
“I didn’t get the chance to thank you for the handkerchief.”
His brows knit together in confusion. “What?”
“Yesterday, you tied your handkerchief around my hand to stop the bleeding. I wanted to say thank you.”
A smile tugs at his lips. He looks so human, it would be easy to forget he’s not.
He ducks his head shyly. “Thank you for believing I might be someone worth bleeding for, Lady Ivy.”
Two songs later, Faith emerges to dance with Bram. She’s a beautiful dancer, his equal in every way, but her eyes are rimmed with red.
Emmett has vanished completely.
Caledonia Cottage is a nightmare when all six of us and the viscountess are crammed inside like tinned fish. There’s a kerfuffle before bed as Bolingbroke marches from room to room, counting us like chickens. But someone is always unaccounted for in the washroom, so we’re one off, and she grows cross, convinced we’re playing a prank on her.
When our tongue-lashing is over, Olive grows weepy over a missing doll, which Marion finds smushed at the bottom of her trunk.
Once everything has finally calmed down, Emmy wakes the whole house anew, clattering down the stairs in search of a midnight snack. (“I get hungry at night, and I miscounted the steps.”) We light a candle, slice some bread, and wrap her ankle before going to sleep once more.
It’s long past midnight when I jolt awake to see someone standing over me, a clammy hand clasped over my mouth. For a moment I think it’s one of the other girls playing a prank, but the figure above me isn’t laughing.
I kick wildly and raise my fists to swing, but in the time it takes for my eyes to adjust in the darkness, I see my lady’s maid standing above me, her finger pressed over her mouth in ashhmotion.
“Emmett sent me. Come quickly, now,” she whispers.
I glance to where Faith is sleeping soundly.
