19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

T he muffled strains of the strings inside the ballroom reached Izzie’s ears and her body tensed, her hands clutching the fat stone railing lining the edge of this small balcony off the ballroom.

She’d discovered the hidden retreat just in time.

With the music starting in earnest, people were already flooding the dance floor.

She’d been trained by the Guardians in dancing long ago, but for years had never needed to actually dance, not until Thomas demanded Sylvie teach her. Nor had she ever actually danced in a ballroom, surrounded by people in all their finery.

While she was usually assured in her missions, she was suddenly floundering.

She stared at the wall directly in front of her.

Odd for a city home, this small balcony jutted out the side of the grand townhouse. Not only tiny compared to the one that lined the entire length of the rear of the house, this balcony faced an adjacent building with wide, fat white stones that she could almost reach out and touch, they were so close. As though this home had existed long before the rest of Edinburgh had been built up—back when it had been fields in all directions.

The building blocked her view of everything unless she looked to her left out toward the streetside or to her right at the gardens that unfurled from the rear of the elegant home. The perfect place to hide, for who would want to spend time out in the cool air with nothing to look at.

Though she wasn’t sure how long she could disappear out here before Sylvie found her. She could only hope that the men that had already clamored around her friend this eve kept her occupied for a long period of time.

This was never in the domain of Izzie’s skills.

Fancy dresses and dances and dinners where she would have to speak to people, be charming. This was Sylvie’s domain—her expertise.

Hector had deemed it long ago. Said her eyes were too haunted to properly flirt with the many gentlemen that she would need to on the missions in the finest ballrooms. She was the exact opposite of Sylvie in that regard.

And she’d never minded the assignments as a maid or as a cook’s helper or as a washwoman—or as the distant feral relation. She’d always liked it better when eyes weren’t on her.

But ever since she’d first stepped foot in Ravenstone, she felt as though there was one set of eyes that had rarely left her. Eyes that were calculating her every move, determined to discover her darkest secrets.

Hazel eyes that wouldn’t let her breathe—not even here in Edinburgh.

“It is cold out here.”

Thomas’s voice behind her wasn’t even a surprise.

He always seemed to know where she was, even when he was trying to avoid her. And he’d been doing much of that this evening—watching but avoiding.

It had been Sylvie that had ushered Izzie through the function thus far. Meeting people. Dinner. It was an unusual event, with titled gentlemen and businessmen’s families freely mixing and mingling without any of the stringent societal pressures that were ever present in London.

When she looked over her shoulder at Thomas stepping out into the night air to join her, she didn’t have to manifest fake apprehension in her eyes—the apprehension was real and palpitating in her veins.

Her bottom lip jutted out. “The cold is preferable to the dancing that has started.”

“Your skin would disagree with that assessment.” He moved alongside her as the back of his forefinger ran down the bare stretch of her upper arm between her long white silk gloves and the high cut of her sleeve.

Sharp prickles ran up her arm, though she wasn’t sure they existed before he’d touched her.

He nodded toward the blank wall of white stone in front of them, glowing golden from the many wicks lit inside the ballroom. “The view leaves a bit to be desired, so I cannot imagine that is what has drawn you out here.” He settled his left elbow on the railing, leaning on it as he faced her.

She glanced at him, then looked to the wall. “I cannot do this. I am not ready for all of…” Her head shaking, she looked down at the dark blue gown with the fine lines of satin tracing the dress inward along her waist and then flowing outward past her hips. “All of this.” Her fingers lifted the sides of her gown. “It is too much. Dinner I could sit through silently, smiling, nodding when appropriate. But the dancing…”

“You can dance—you yourself assured me of that.”

“Did I? For I am nothing but a stiff board with feet that barely move. Not like Sylvie. She glides. Have you seen her tonight? She is a wonder in this environment, chatting with the lecherous men like it doesn’t bother her. Well spoken. Able to command a dance floor.”

“Nonsense.” Thomas gave a slight shake of his head, a smile playing at his lips. “You can dance—you are very good at following a lead.”

She exhaled a contrary sigh. “I was good at following your lead. I don’t know these people. These men.”

She looked up at him, letting him see the fear in her eyes. Fear she never let see the light of day.

His stare held fast against the fear in her eyes, and his hand lifted, his fingertips brushing against the bare flesh of her arm. “You will do fine. You will perform like the blood throbbing in your veins is straight from knights of yore. Even if it has been centuries, you still have the mettle of your ancestors inside of you. Fortitude, Izzie. It is a part of you.”

If he only knew. Lying to him was getting harder and harder.

She held in a sigh, looking up at him. “Do I?”

“I know you do.” His fingers dropped to the dance card tied around her wrist. He tilted the card toward the light seeping through the glass separating them from the ballroom, reading the names.

For one long moment, his jaw set hard, then twitched.

She went up to her toes, trying to peer over the top edge of the card. “What is it? Who should I not be dancing with? I did not know the men approaching me for introductions, so I did not know who to decline.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have declined any of them. You should dance with all of them.” His chest lifted in a heavy breath, and his shoulders pulled back taut as he stiffly reached for the French door that led out to the balcony. “In fact, I should deliver you to your first partner. I am positive he is searching for you.”

“Searching for me?” She knew she was acting like a scared rabbit, but truth told, she was a scared rabbit. “I doubt anyone cares on my whereabouts. Sylvie’s yes. Mine, not so much.”

He paused, his gaze finding her in the shadows. “You clearly have no idea how desirable you are, do you, Izzie?”

Her jaw dropped slightly. No. No, she did not. But the heat in his eyes as they swept down her body was unmistakable.

Maybe Sylvie was right. Maybe the glances he sent her way meant way more than they should. And maybe she should start paying more attention to them.

She swallowed hard. “I think you are being kind in order to get me out onto the dance floor, when all I want is for that meeting you wanted me to attend to take place so I may then escape this function.”

His gaze jumped up to her eyes, his face shifting into the stoic lines she knew so well on him. “The meeting will happen in a few hours. Until then, you should dance. Once a name is on a dance card, you do not want to disappoint.”

He opened the ballroom door and leaned sideways toward her, setting his hand on the small of her back, and he nudged her through the doorway and into the twinkling light of the ballroom.

It took a long moment for her eyes to adjust, and by the time she could fully see, Mr. Lipter was working his way along the edge of the crowd toward her.

First on her dance card.

He was a tall, thin man, but pleasant, with light blond hair, so fine that it puffed slightly upward as he moved.

Thomas leaned down into her ear. “You will perform admirably. I have no doubt.” He straightened, then winked at her. “Fortitude.”

The wink was so out of character for him, so entirely whimsical, a chuckle burst out past her lips.

He grinned and turned to Mr. Lipter, stepping forth to say something to the man, then he swept his hand back toward her, turning her over.

Without another glance her way, he moved away, disappearing into the crush of people.

Leaving her to fend for herself.