If they weren’t careful, Miss Karel would one day drop dead from exhaustion.
With a violin’s sharp trill, the song concluded. Dancers bowed and curtsied, prompting an exchange of participants. Guests hurried onto the dance floor to claim their places. They formed two lines, men in one, ladies in the other.
Elias stood his ground as women gathered around the floor. They giggled, their smiles begging for partners. He should ask Miss Wood to dance. Perhaps a quick trip around the dance floor would please Lord Welby and make Elias appear less taciturn.
Josephine, now without her cape, stepped through the patio doors with her friends. She dusted flurries off her skirt and beelined to the dining room. Her ruby gown shimmered in the chandelier’s glow. Her curls drooped from their pins, framing her face with snow-caked strands.
Elias’s mind went blank. He moved toward her, crossing the dance floor as if in a trance. His heartbeat grew louder, stronger, until he felt it in the tips of his toes.
Lord Welby wanted him to find a suitable wife, but there was no one more suited to him than Josephine. Everything he wasn’t, she was, as if they were created together but pulled apart.
He couldn’t stay away.
“Miss De Clare . . .” Elias nodded to her companions, whom he recognized from the bonfire masquerade. “Pardon my intrusion.”
“Yes?” Josephine turned, her smile vanishing. She gazed at him with a panicked look in her eyes.
“May I have the next dance?” Elias asked. His voice wavered as though to warn him. Such a request threatened to circulate his attachment, for if Lord Welby beheld Elias and Josephine together, would he not form a realization?
’Twas a great danger for Elias to break his sworn distance with Josephine, especially before discussing matters of engagement with the Darlings. A dance could very well smother the impossible hope still burning within him.
But the world grew from impossible things.
Josephine let out a breath. “You may.”
Elias bowed and returned to the dance floor. Within minutes, he stood across from her, positioned in a line of gentlemen. Sweat painted lines down his temples as guests observed from the side-lines, batting the sultry air with fans, whispering into each other’s ears. They seemed intrigued by yet another country dance, all except for Sebastian. He remained near the orchestra, now amusing a young woman with peacock feathers in her hair.
Josephine curtsied as music flooded the ballroom. She turned and extended her arm. Elias placed his hand beneath hers, the silk of her glove caressing his knuckles. He took four steps forward, three steps back, then pivoted to face her.
“Are you altogether pleased with the ball?” he asked as they wove around each other like plaited dough, moving back and forth, spinning until the room blurred.
“Quite.” She lifted her chin, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why did you seek my company? I’m certain other ladies would have appreciated your invitation.”
“I would’ve been remiss not to offer myself as a partner,” Elias said when they formed a circle with other dancers. “Your fiancé seems otherwise engaged.”
“He enjoys meeting new people.” Josephine sashayed a few beats. She locked hands with Elias, the music guiding them into a standoff of silence and touches. Her formality struck him like ice water. It sent a shiver up his spine. It chilled him to the bone.
Never had she treated him as a mere acquaintance. Despite his reserve, she’d always greeted him with warmth. He adored that warmth, how she had raced into his study with the scent of outdoors on her clothes, the way she arranged his furniture so she could read upside down near the window. Their relationship had bloomed like a seedling beneath the sun.
“We must keep to our agreement,” Josephine said when the music reached a crescendo. She twirled back to her place in line, her expression hardening.
Elias winced. Keep to their agreement? No, he didn’t want to stay apart, hold his tongue, choose Lord Welby’s prudence in place of his own will. He loved Josephine more than he believed possible, and that love compelled him forward. How could he turn a blind eye to Sebastian’s misdeeds? More so, how could he justify not pursuing the girl before him when a solution lingered in reach? The betrothal didn’t sunder them. Lord Welby seemed keen to accept a lady of good standing. In truth, there seemed but a conversation dividing Elias from Josephine.
He could alter their fates. Yes, Lord Welby may disapprove, the Darlings might express outrage, but Elias felt less inclined to care. He no longer desired to emulate his father, not when so much hinged on this choice. And he chose Josephine.
Until the stars dimmed to black, he would choose her.
Without saying a word, Elias left the dance floor and walked to the patio doors, hoping his sudden exit would prompt Josephine to follow him. He abandoned the room’s champagne glow, all heat dissipating from his clothes the instant he stepped onto the ice-glossed terrace.
“I can bear this no longer,” Elias said when Josephine emerged from the house. He trembled, not from the wind and snow, but a feeling so rich it stole the air from his lungs.
Josephine stared at him. Puffs of white released from the gap between her lips. Flurries kissed her bare neck, melting into droplets that shimmered on her skin like diamonds.
“For years I thought my life would get better once I made something of myself. I stood in grand rooms like that one. I went to the best school, obeyed my father’s commands, all without considering what I wanted. Being a bastard . . . It seemed to drown out everything else until that’s all I was—the unwanted son who had to prove his worth.” Elias clenched his jaw and shuffled his feet against the ice. “Blazes, I was forced to leave my home, and I didn’t shed a tear or complain. Nothing. And you know why? Because
