Isabel and her entourage of cleaning crews and preservationists have been busy preparing for next weekend, and it shows. There’s not a cobweb in sight. Everything looks bright and new, so much less frightening in the daylight than it had the night before.
Jude, on the other hand, stands like a closed book at the bottom of the staircase. His face unreadable. His posture refined. His features drawn. His hair perfect.
As though sensing my stare, his eyes lift to mine, and for just a moment, the closed bookcracks open a smidge. The look makes my pulse jump as erratically as the EMF meter.
Beside me, Lainey leans over the railing to get a better look at Rafe, who looks much improved from our last encounter. I tug her back before she tumbles head over feet and plummets to her death. The last thing this estate needs is another tragedy on its hands.
Next to Rafe and Jude, Mayor Ridley converses with Miss Eloise Applewhite, Foggy Hollow’s very own retired ballerina turned drill sergeant. She’s on the masquerade committee and is walking us through our first rehearsal, starting with the Founder’s Decent, followed by the opening dance.
The men stand at the bottom. The women at the top. As per tradition, each man will walk halfway up the staircase while the woman descends. He will meet her on the landing and escort her to the dance floor below. At the moment, Miss Applewhite and Mayor Ridley are trying to decide the order in which the couples will be announced.
They settle on the mayor going first, even though his connection to the founding families is a significant stretch. Apparently, his wife is second cousins twice removed from Marvin Doorn—an out-of-town math professor who has agreed to ride in the parade but has no interest in staying for the ball. Mayor Ridley gladly stepped in to take his spot.
Isabel and her escort, Everett McBride, go next. Everett is a Foggy Hollow transplant. He movedfrom Alexandria after retiring early from a lucrative antique and estate appraisal business. Isabel hired him to catalog the estate’s historical items under the pretense of preservation.
Jude isn’t fooled.
He thinks she’s hunting for valuables.
As I watch them reach the bottom of the staircase, Rafe catches my eye with a smirk. I turn up my chin as Miss Applewhite announces Camilla Bogaard, escorted by her husband, Ignatius Bogaard. Then their son, Sterling, escorting Becca Lynn Parker, a mousy girl who has always tried very hard to fit in with the popular crowd.
“Miss Selah Whitlock,” Miss Applewhite calls next. “Escorted by Jude Vandenberg of the Vandenberg Family.”
I’m tempted to rush.
Hurry to Jude.
Especially when he’s looking at me like that.
But Miss Applewhite had been very clear, and very stern, about how we are supposed to walk.Like a wedding march, ladies. Not a sprint.She’d been eying Lainey when she said it, but I might’ve been just as guilty.
With one hand on the railing, I force myself to walk slowly. With poise. Taking care not to trip. Even if my heart is doing its best impression.
Jude meets me on the landing, his footsteps quiet and precise, his eyes never leaving mine. He extends his arm in perfect form. I slide my hand into the crook of this elbow. His shirt is smoothbeneath my palm, the fabric taut over the shape of his bicep.
Together, we descend.
“What are you doing after this?” I ask in a whisper from the corner of my mouth.
“Whatever you’re doing,” he says back, his voice low.
I bite back a smile. “Floats at the fairgrounds.”
“More glitter, huh?”
“Maybe some paint.”
“We could continue our research afterward.”
“It’s a date,” I say as we reach the dance floor.
Jude’s hand moves to the small of my back and butterflies take flight—a whole kaleidoscope of them.
We stop next to Sterling and Becca Lynn and watch Rafe meet Lainey halfway up the stairs.
“He’s unraveling,” Jude says, his voice even lower.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
