They danced a vigorous jig of leaps and turns, before handing over the next part to the ladies. Less confident without Cyrus’ proximity, Teresa mustered her courage and copied the steps, faltering only once, and not too calamitously.
A moment later, Cyrus was in front of her again, one arm behind his back, the other out in an elegant curve. They walked around one another to the rhythm of the music, his eyes never leaving hers, the rest of the ballroom disappearing once again.
“Have the Captain and Miss Savage ever danced like this?” he asked out of nowhere, a pulsing heat sweeping through her face, dropping her jaw.
“What?”
“Those fictions you seem to enjoy so much,” he said. “I should like to hear about them. Perhaps, there might be a place for them in the library, though you willnot,under any circumstances, climb any ladders again.”
Teresa wished she had the lemonade that Beatrice had brought from the refreshment room, just to place the cold glass against her cheeks. The embarrassment would surely burn her alive where she stood, until she was nothing but a smoking gown on the floor.
“I confess, I have never heard of their books,” he continued, clearly oblivious to the fact that she wanted the ground to split and swallow her up. “I asked someone, but he had not heard of them either.”
Oh, this is too much. I shall die of this.She lowered her gaze, conscious of every step, focusing on the dance instead of her husband uncovering her precious secrets. Her one true passion.
“They are not… commonly available,” she confessed, her throat tight. “I have them sent to me fortnightly, for a very reasonable sum.”
All of a sudden, he was very close, his hands taking hold of hers. “I do hope they are not ‘inappropriate’ novels.”
“They might be to you,” she blurted out, before she could stop herself. “After all, you have a mercurial opinion of what is appropriate and what is not.”
Please, do not prohibit me from receiving and reading them.It was the worst possible punishment she could think of, to be denied her fortnightly dose of romance and escape.
“You still have not answered my question,” he said, leading her into a promenade.
She swallowed thickly. “No, the Captain and Miss Savage have never danced like this.”
“But they have danced?”
She nodded, refusing to look up and meet his eye. “Many times.”
“If not like this, then how do they dance?” he asked, his tone even, making it impossible, once again, to figure out if he was teasing her or not.
“I cannot explain it. You would have to read it to know,” she replied, thinking of her collection, still stuck at Grayling House. “But they have danced together in countless places, in countless countries, in countless situations. They have danced to music both familiar and strange, and to no music at all. They have danced, not knowing if tomorrow is promised to them. It is… beautiful. At least to me. AndIdo not think it is inappropriate at all, for what is inappropriate about true love?”
She could feel Cyrus’ eyes on her, stoking the blush on her cheeks. She had gotten carried away, as she often did when it came to Captain Frostheart and Miss Savage. She could not help it. They had the life that she craved, even if it was just in her imagination.
“Is that what you hoped marriage would be like?” he asked, surprising her. “Like your books?”
It felt like an olive branch, reaching through the emotional distance between them.
Why is he asking me such a thing?Was he hoping for insight into how to improve their relationship? Was he truly curious to know what it was she wanted from a marriage? Or was he still teasing her? She did not know which possibility unnerved her more.
“We are close enough now that some might consider us to be friends,” she said stiffly, trying to reassert herself. “So, if that is a genuine question from a friend, I shall answer it as such.”
Cyrus said nothing, prompting her to continue.
“It is not what I expect from a marriage, for I am not silly enough to confuse fiction and reality, but… I do dream that I might feel all of the things that I have read about. I have always dreamed that, long before Captain Frostheart and Miss Savage. Probably from my first fairytale, I have hoped I might one day know romance.
“That being said, I maintain that it is not an expectation I have; it is just a lingering fantasy that I am determined to forget. At the very least, I shall keep those thoughts solely within the boundaries of the pages they are written on.”
He still did not speak, drawing her wary gaze upward to understand why he had suddenly fallen silent. A deep frown furrowed his brow, his eyes creased at the corners as if he had decided to try and look at the sun. His mouth was set in a grim line, any hint of humor there might have been now entirely gone.
“Cyrus?” she said quietly.
He gave a small shake of his head and looked down at her, still wearing his implacable mask. “That is good to know. You should have no expectations.”
“You told me that already,” she said, though the repetition did nothing to help the sinking disappointment in her stomach or help her to relinquish her hopes that her daydreams might yet become reality.
