Page 112 of The Girl Out of Time
But on this evening, drama didn’t win.
“Yes,” she said.
As he took her hand and led her to the dance floor, the song ended, but after an applause and partners bowing to one another, a new melody started—slower, steadier, triple meter.
A waltz.
A few murmurs rose around them. For this time, the waltz was still relatively new and clinging to controversy. Theo, however, gave no sign of abandoning his intentions. He took her right hand, intertwined their fingers, and stretched their arms out, almost as if showing her how to fly. He put his other hand on her waist, and the touch, even as light as it was, sent strings of warmth into her core.
And they danced, along with a few other brave couples, spinning in a circle. He led her with sure, smooth steps, in a perfect rhythm.
Wescott must’ve paid for dancing lessons, too.
“How have you been?” His voice was a touch lower than usual, as if he was trying to hard to control it.
“You have to ask?” She wanted her tone to be harsher, but she couldn’t.
He looked down, then back at her. “You don’t know how sorry I am that it can’t be different. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I’m sorry I went along with anything at all. When we met again, I should’ve never conceded. I should’ve left you alone to spare your torment—and mine. Hell, I should’ve stopped it all earlier, even back in Dorset.”
It sounded so sensible, logical—but she still hated it because he’d made her happy, and now he was saying he shouldn’t have.
“I hate it,” she said. “I hatehimfor trapping you in this. And I hate that you have to stay in that trap because even if I don’t think it’s the right thing to do, I knowyoudo—because he’s your family, and it’s fair and loyal, but I still …”
They kept spinning in a larger circle, but in the same direction, leading to her feeling woozy. She wasn’t sure if Theo knew, and that was why he held her waist tighter, but she welcomed it anyway. It was a single hand, surely looking like nothing else but the proper grip for a waltz to the rest of the dancers, but to her, it felt like a secure embrace. It drew up images purely from a dream; of him staying with her always, of her one day calling him hers, of feeling his lips again, of knowing what that kiss at the museum might eventually lead to.
But it was just a dream. Because she’d never know—not with Theo, and if she couldn’t find out with him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out with anyone.
The other couples danced as far away from each other as their joined hands allowed them, almost as if trying to escape one another, but Theo pulled her near—not enough for their bodies to touch, but so tantalizingly close. Enough for every brush of her skirt against his legs to leave a tingling impression on her skin. The heat in the ballroom was palpable, but his was scorching.
“I know what you would do.” She didn’t think his voice could get any lower. “I know what your books would tell you to do. I’m sure you could rattle off a whole list of heroes who’d defy the odds, send the villain to kingdom come, and get their deserved victory.” He bent his head, drawing near enough that his whisper caressed her cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be like them.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat, tempted to close her eyes just so she could feel him more with her other senses. But she never wanted to stop looking at him, either. “Heroism isn’t all in sword fighting.”
He gave her a weak, sad smile and tilted his head, his eyes capturing the light of the chandelier. “I know it’s unfair to say it, but if you’ll let me be unfair for a moment more, I’ll say it, anyway.”
She nodded.
“I love you.”
She returned the same smile—weakened, partially from her despair, partially from hearing those words said—and inched closer still, leaning her head against his cheek. “I love you, too.”
He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to.
Safe and secure in his embrace—for one last time, at least—Emmeline finally closed her eyes. If she knew Lady Scarlet’s tricks, she would’ve done something—stop time, perhaps, or create an infinite loop of just them,forever dancing in this bittersweet moment, a second after confession, a minute before disaster.
And when she opened her eyes again,shewas there.
Theo had rotated them, so over his shoulder, Emmeline was facing the staircase leading into the ballroom. A lady in red stood at the top, as if conjured by Emmeline’s imagination. Her scarlet mask, embroidered in gold and bordered with feathers, covered her face but not her dark hair, gathered in a pouf, with one curled lock hugging her neck. Her dress was almost as Emmeline remembered it from the night in the castle: tight sleeves with a long string of lace, a corseted bodice with an embroidered front, and a wide skirt flaring out from the hips.
They found Lady Scarlet again.
Theo must’ve sensed Emmeline’s distraction because he slowed down at first, then stopped and followed her gaze.
“It’s her,” Emmeline said.
Lady Scarlet spread a fan in invitation and slipped out.
Still holding her hand, Theo looked at Emmeline and nodded. They weaved through the dancing couples and skipped up the steps. Lady Scarlet had no intention of escaping this time. The glimpse of the red skirt around the corner was a tease to make them follow her, and they did—through an empty drawing room and another parlor until they entered a smaller, darkened space: a private sitting room for the family, with a chaise lounge set diagonally in front of a dying fireplace, and two windows allowing some light upon it.
