“The Lord Sorcier has attended in the end, despite his protests,” he said. “I will admit, I had to threaten to withhold my translation skills in return for his presence. I must go and confront him now, and I would appreciate a trustworthy companion at my back as I do so. Might I steal you from your family?”
Dora took the proffered arm. “You might do, yes,” she said. “I take it the Lord Sorcier is still grumpy?”
“He is almost always grumpy,” Albert admitted. “But if one can endure his profane behaviour, he is also quite a fascinating conversationalist. He has been a most loyal friend to me, and so I am determined to see him acclimatised to polite society in return.”
Dora pursed her lips as they headed away from the others. “May I be so bold as to ask why?” she said. “It seems to me that the Lord Sorcier has no love for polite society, and that it has none for him in return. Is there something you hope for him to gain from all of this effort?”
Albert considered this for a moment. “I appreciate the directness,” he said. “So I will speak directly in return. Elias is a terribly unhappy man. He wraps himself up in very serious matters, and rarely gives himself the opportunity to rest and enjoy himself. I don’t by any means expect that he shall suddenly fall in love with society balls. But perhaps a delicious meal and a dance or two shall do his heart good and blunt the worst of his miseries.”
Dora nodded at this, taking it in. “Then I will do my best to engage him,” she said, “if only for your sake. But I cannot promise that such engagement shall remain polite, if he is in his usual form.”
Albert smiled at this. “I trust you to handle him at your discretion, Miss Ettings,” he said. “And thank you. I take this as a favour.”
They were well out of earshot of the others, and so Dora thought to warn Albert about the sordid plans involving him and his oldest brother—but before she could do so, they came in sight of Elias, who was settled into a side chair with a painfully bored expression on his face. He was wearing the same white jacket and silver waistcoat that Dora had seen in the magic shop’s mirror, and this distracted her uncomfortably as she thought again of the crimson stain that might soon be found upon her dress.
“Elias,” Albert greeted him, as they headed closer. “I see you have already driven away Lord Ferring. I think that must be record time for you.” Albert released Dora’s arm, and gestured towards her. “I have brought you a greater challenge.”
Elias arched one white-blond eyebrow. “I see that,” he drawled. “And what is it you wish for me to do with your dog, Albert? Shall I take it outside for a walk? Need I fetch it some treats from the table?”
Dora tilted her head at him. “You could try and teach me to speak,” she said. “But I fear that my diction is already better than yours, Lord Sorcier.”
Albert laughed, already sounding pleased. “I thought that you might take Miss Ettings for the first dance,” he said. “As soon as my mother decides to start things off.”
Elias narrowed his eyes at both of them. “I am not fond of this conspiracy,” he informed them. “One of you at a time is already bad enough. Two is quite intolerable.”
Dora turned innocently towards Albert. “Le sorcier insinue que nous serions intolérables,” she observed. “Quelle ironie.”
Albert shot her a delighted look. “Mais il a raison, non?” he replied. “Si nous parlons français, ce n’est que pour le contrarier.”
“Oh, that is beyond enough!” Elias fumed. “If you are going to insult me, at least have the decency to do it in the King’s tongue! Why did we even fight a war with the French, if not to keep them out of England?”
“Insult you?” Dora asked. “Why, we were doing nothing of the sort. I seem to have committed a faux pas, speaking in a language which eludes you. You have my deepest apologies, Lord Sorcier.” She drew out the French of his adopted title, with a perfectly sanguine expression.
Elias opened his mouth, no doubt ready to shoot off a scathing reply. But before he could do so, Lady Carroway got up to call the ball to attention, announcing the first dance. Albert looked meaningfully at the Lord Sorcier. “Be reasonably kind to Miss Ettings,” he told Elias. “And I shall see about your book first thing tomorrow morning.”
The Lord Sorcier hissed in an irritated breath. But he shoved to his feet and offered one gloved hand out towards Dora. “I would like the record to state that I am doing this only under great duress,” he told them both.
“You may note it on my dance card later, if you like,” Dora told him. She took his hand, feeling odd as she did so. It was quite rare that Dora had any dance partner at all, though men did sometimes ask her out of pity. For all that the Lord Sorcier was clearly displeased at the notion, his hand was warm, and he was appropriately gentle with his touch. He smoothed the obvious scowl away from his features as they headed out onto the floor, and for a moment, Dora daydreamed that she was dancing with a handsome young man who wanted to be there with her.
Elias glanced down at her as they began, keeping his expression cool. This close, his golden eyes were even more arresting, and Dora found herself staring. “Does this amuse you, Miss Ettings?” he asked acidly. His tone rather spoiled the daydream, and she brought herself back to the present.
“I am rarely amused,” Dora
