I wouldn't say I was an amazing dancer.
But I was a good dancer. Good enough for what my profession required, anyway.
Count Auden Graye, on the other hand, was an exceptional dancer. Light on his feet. Fluid. Kept the appropriate amount of distance between us and his hands right where they should be.
(Again, the bar for men in this kingdom is low.)
He led us through an impeccable waltz with a few twirls and dips and fancy things like that. It's my job to not get flustered, I reminded myself. Even when dancing with an absurdly beautiful man and suddenly being bent over backwards in front of an entire ballroom.
It was while I was being bent over backwards, that I realized just how breathtaking the ballroom was. Richly-hued velvet curtains hung around the perimeter with large windows set in between. The furniture all matched the curtains, and I noticed heaps of fresh flowers used in various capacities. The flowers weren't tacky vivid summer flowers either. There were crimson roses, white lilies, and deep purple dahlias.
Honestly, the place could rival the beauty of its host. Almost.
The Count didn't say much as we danced. He just sort of watched me. Which was wildly uncomfortable. And after about two minutes of it, having fully taken in all the grandeur and with nowhere else to avert my gaze to, I couldn't stand the silent stare any longer.
"You dance well, Count," I offered, my eyes flicking to our hands and then our feet. Anywhere except his unyielding blue gaze.
If I had been watching the Count, I would have seen a dastardly smirk overtake his expression. "As well as any Prince Charming should?"
My foot suddenly came down awkwardly unbalanced, and I nearly stumbled.
He was clearly referencing that day in the street. Of course, he'd recognized me.
I don't know if he had known from the beginning that his mother hired me, or if Lady Abigail said something to him that day that had drawn his attention, but he was showing me his cards one by one. First catching me, then inviting me to this stupid ball, and now forcing me out into the spotlight with him.
"What an.. interesting comparison," I gave him a quick smile before returning to my feet.
"Hmm I'm sure you haven't forgotten, Madam—our previous encounter." The Count got straight to the point.
I needed to figure out his motives quickly.
Was he angry with me for trying to scandalize him? Or was he just trying to prevent that by winning me over? I had to decide right this moment if it was better to continue feigning ignorance or act like he had succeeded in winning me over like any other lady in the kingdom.
Hurry and think, Opal! I ran through everything in my mind again. Sifted through it all—any details that might give me a clue. But I simply couldn't read this man. Not the way I could read others. I would have to guess which strategy was better and pray I was right.
I swallowed, my eyes finding their way back to his. They held no answers for me. There was a glint of something there. Amusement? Anger? I couldn't place it. "Well, Count, I-"
"Excuse me, I'd like to cut in now if you don't mind, Count."
The familiar voice took me by surprise. I looked over to see Wolf, the faithful lackey he was, standing ready to rescue me.
Except this wasn't a hostage situation on a sinking ship.
It was a ballroom.
And I specifically ordered him not to get anywhere near me in public!
The glint in Count Graye's eyes changed as he looked between me and my lackey. "Of course, Marquess." He offered my hand to Wolf and then bowed and backed away.
Wolf eagerly took over leading me through the rest of the waltz. He was more assertive and stiff when he danced than Count Graye had been. Or, perhaps, he was just filled with rage and working very hard to keep it under control?
"I thought you agreed to stay away from that b[omitted]d of a Count."
Ah, yep. Definitely rage.
"I thought you agreed to stay away from me," I hissed back.
"You expect me to sit back and watch that creepy b[omitted]d run his grubby hands all over you?" Wolf snarled.
"Ok, first of all, Marquess, your mask is slipping. Fix that," I sighed glancing around. I could already feel the piercing glares of Wolf's fanclub. "Secondly, his hands were not 'all over me'. And most importantly, I am perfectly capable of handling situations like this myself."
Instead of reassuming the cool demeanor of Marquess Easton Wulfstan, Wolf frowned, his lower lip protruding. "Look, Jer, let me handle that stupid Count. We can solve this once and for all."
"Wolf! I swear somebody is going to catch on if you don't pull yourself together!" I whispered. "And your 'handling' will only land us both in prison, so please just bow and go ask another lady to dance."
Wolf reluctantly released me as the final notes of the song played and then he dropped into a bow. I noted his bottom lip was still sticking out a bit too far. What a pouter.
"I won't ask anyone else. I hate dancing," he asserted as he stood back up.
I put a hand in front of my mouth and pretended to giggle. "You're the one who made a big scene with me in the middle so now you have to fix it." And then more loudly I added, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Marquess," before curtseying and turning away.
As I strode back to the safety of the crowd, I heard Wolf's grumbles behind me, and I couldn't suppress a genuine laugh at the thought of him having to lead one of those crazy fangirls around the dancefloor. I was almost tempted to hang back and watch.
But the crowd was focused on the aloof Marquess's second dance and the balcony doors were Count-free. I knew I wouldn't get another chance if I messed up this time.
So without another moment of hesitation, I busted through the doors, ready to save a damsel and seduce an absolute scoundrel.