The orchestra began.
Before his mother could continue, Aurelian held out his hand.
“May I have this dance?”
Carina’s expression softened despite herself.
“This conversation is not over.”
“I assumed as much.”
She accepted his hand, and they joined the first couples on the floor.
To Aurelian’s relief, he did not disgrace himself.
He missed no steps, stepped on no toes, and remembered every turn Echo had forced him to practice.
When the final note faded, he escorted his mother from the floor feeling almost victorious.
Echo waited nearby.
“A slight delay in your turns,” she said, “but otherwise good.”
Aurelian brightened.
“Thank you.”
“Do not expect another compliment tonight.
I have exhausted my supply.”
He smiled.
Echo lifted one hand.
Aurelian took it automatically.
She stared at him.
He stared back.
“Are you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
Her fingers twitched in his hold.
“To dance.”
“Oh.”
Echo sighed.
Aurelian bowed over her hand.
“Would you honor me with this dance, Lady Echo?”
“At last.”
Dancing with Echo proved less forgiving than dancing with his mother.
Aurelian was stiff on his turns, nearly caught her heel once, corrected too quickly, and somehow led her into a step clearly intended for the opposite partner.
Echo survived every error with the composure of someone who had prepared for disaster.
By the time the music ended, she looked perfectly respectable.
Aurelian did not.
“I am sorry,” he whispered as they left the floor.
“You owe me a trip to the salon.”
“I will buy you three dresses for every mistake I made.”
“Accessories included.”
“Of course.”
“And shoes.”
Aurelian gave her a wounded look.
Echo tapped his shoulder with her fan.
Despite himself, he laughed.
The sound faded when his attention moved beyond her to the clusters of nobles around the room.
Fans fluttered.
People watched one another between smiles that rarely seemed to mean only one thing.
A question he had been carrying since meeting Echo surfaced before he could decide whether it was appropriate.
“Lady Echo?”
She looked at him.
“You are of marriageable age.
Why have you not married?”
The question was sincere.
The reaction was not what he expected.
Something flickered across Echo’s face—quick and wounded—before her fan rose between them.
“I had one person of interest,” she said lightly.
“But I am not allowed to be with them.”
Aurelian stilled.
He wanted to ask what she meant, but Echo snapped the fan closed before he could.
“Besides,” she said, her usual brightness returning too neatly, “you are the one we need to marry off.”
Aurelian groaned.
“You sound like my mother.”
“That is because Lady Bellafonte and I are sensible women.”
“You are the same women who wanted me to charm a child.”
Echo’s glare sharpened.
Aurelian laughed and caught a champagne flute from a passing tray.
He offered it to her with a small bow.
“A bribe.
I am going to find some air.”
“Do not disappear for too long.
Your mother still expects you to make connections.”
Aurelian gave her a strained smile and escaped toward the nearest veranda before anyone else could decide he needed to dance.
Another announcement rang from the staircase as he reached the doors, but the music and conversation swallowed most of the words.
He did not stop to listen.
The night air met him cool and quiet.
Aurelian let out a breath he felt he had been holding since entering the palace.
The veranda was nearly empty, the noise of the ballroom softened by the closed glass doors.
He crossed to the stone railing and rested both hands against it.
For a while, he simply breathed.
The evening had not gone badly.
That almost made it worse.
At Beaumont’s tea, mistakes had happened before he could anticipate them.
Here, every gesture felt deliberate.
Every conversation seemed to carry a second meaning.
Every glance appeared to be part of some exchange no one had explained to him.
He was tired of measuring himself against rules he could barely see.
Aurelian lowered his head.
He had only wanted to survive the night.
Was that truly so unreasonable?
“It seems I am not the only one seeking refuge.”
A woman’s voice cut through the quiet.
Aurelian turned.
She stood near the veranda doors, half-shadowed beneath the silver wash of moonlight.
“May I join you?”