She studied Neil with a frown, then grabbed his hat as well.
“Hold on!”Neil protested.
“We need to blend in—quickly!”Constance hissed.
With another assessing look, she grasped the end of his bow tie and yanked it.
The strip of fabric came loose, whipping out from under his collar.
Neil blinked at her.
“Put this in your pocket!”Constance ordered, shoving the unraveled tie into his hands.
She plucked a scarf from one of the wooden poles over the cart and threw it around Neil’s neck.The shimmering fabric fell over the lapels of his jacket in a wave of gleaming saffron.
Constance quickly took in the overall effect—mussed light brown hair, round spectacles, gray tweed, and golden silk.
“It’ll do,” she concluded, tossing a generous handful of coins to the vendor and dragging Neil back into the crowd.
Borthwick had turned ahead of them, cutting across the road.Constance quickly mapped out a trajectory to intercept him, spotting what looked like a less-packed area in the sea of people that lay between them.
Neil stumbled in her wake as she tugged him after her.Music grew louder in front of them, the quick pulse of the tabla mingling with the twang of strings.
She reached the thinner spot she had been aiming for—and skidded to a halt.
The people there were dancing.
Some were members of a troupe dressed in traditional costumes.Others looked like festival goers who had joined on impulse.
The energy was electric—stomping feet and twirling bodies, all moving in sync to the rapid beat of the music.
Constance spotted Borthwick’s straight-backed figure on the far side.
The dancers sprawled across half the road.The gathering was too broad for her to go around and hope to still find Borthwick when she got there.
A spray of golden flower petals burst from one of the balconies above, raining down like a fall of sun-stained snow.
Bugger it, Constance decided—and plunged into the dance.
Neil skidded to a halt at the edge of the crowd.“What are you doing?!”
“Just bounce along!”Constance shouted back to him.“We’ll blend in well enough!”
She followed her own instructions—and found it surprisingly easy.Her hips swung with the rhythm of the drums, her arms rising up in time with those dancing around her.
“I don’t know the steps!”Neil protested.
“Neither do I!”Constance retorted impatiently, eyes locked on where Borthwick had briefly paused on the other side of the dancers.
“Then how are you doing them!?”Neil pushed back wildly.
Constance realized that he was right.Her feet were pounding in perfect sync with the other dancers, her wrists twisting with a flourish.The music itself seemed to tell her how to move as though the tune was infectious and the dance an irresistible symptom.
Instead of answering, Constance grabbed the ends of Neil’s scarf—and hauled.
Neil stumbled into the dance with a look of panic on his face.
“Keep moving!”Constance ordered as her feet continued to pound to the rhythm.
