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“That’s all right. I’ve trained to be an excellent partner. We’ll stick to a simple one. Just follow my lead.”
The mention of his partnering ability reminds me of the woman I saw him with a few moments ago.
My throat constricts, but I force myself to ask, “Are you not hired for the ball?”
The courtesan shakes his head without any sign that he’s bothered by the question. “I approach these events as an opportunity for potential patrons to sample my talents.”
My cheeks prickle with a hotter flush from before. “I wouldn’t—”
Casimir’s voice softens. “I know. This is simply a dance between friends.”
Are we friends, really?
That’s not a question I can ask. It’s impossible at least as much because of who I am as who he is.
He steps to the side so smoothly that my feet move automatically to follow. It only takes a few paces, charting a careful circle across the floor, before the rhythm of the music melds with our movements in my head.
After a minute, I’ve relaxed enough to try to match his cross-steps. My hand eases up to rest on his shoulder.
Casimir guides me a little closer to him, and his honeyed sandalwood scent drifts over me. My body tingles with awareness of the few inches left between us—of the sinewy muscles responsible for his feline grace. Of his gaze on me, even now.
I lift my head to meet it, but that might not have been the wisest plan. He smiles down at me, our feet still moving in tandem, and seeing his stunning face so close knocks most of the breath from my lungs.
I find myself saying the first words that pop into my head, as unwise as they might be. “Do you normally have much time to do things that aren’t about pleasing patrons or learning how to?”
Nearly everything I’ve heard him talk about that isn’t to do with me and investigating the conspiracy has revolved around his work.
Casimir shrugs. “It’s a fairly immersive calling. But I spend time with classmates I consider friends.” His mouth slants a little, giving a bittersweet cast to his smile. “Although as we branch out into taking on patrons ourselves, a certain level of competition has added tensions.”
My heart squeezes in sympathy for the hint of loneliness I catch in those words.
My dance partner doesn’t give me the chance to express it. He whirls us around, his hand on my waist firming to ensure I keep up.
“I know you’re a reader, but not what sorts of things,” he says. “Sprawling histories? Fanciful imaginings?”
He’s shifting the focus back on me—my interests, my desires.
I swallow thickly before I answer. “Both of those and pretty much anything else I can get my hands on. It’s all interesting one way or another. But I suppose I enjoy tales of adventures the best—real and fictional.” I’ve already devoured the first volume of Gisela Luvinya’s Traveling Diaries.
I’m not going to let Casimir act as if it’s only my concerns that matter, though. I give his shoulder a light squeeze. “What about you? Are you a frequent visitor of the library?”
His smile turns slightly sheepish. “I can’t say so. I’m passable with composing poetry, but the written word isn’t a great strength of mine.”
He tips his head with the melody lilting around us. “Of all the arts, I prefer music. Perhaps someday I’ll have the chance to play my flute for you.”
That’s always what he’s thinking of, isn’t it? How he can gratify everyone else.
Even now… With every movement, he’s adapting to my inexperience with incredible grace, probably making me look like twice as good a partner as I actually am.
How incredible wouldhelook if he didn’t have to hold himself back so I could keep up?
Even if he sees this as only a friendly dance, how am I using him any less than all the patrons who at least are paying him?
I start to pull back. “You shouldn’t need to keep propping me up.”
Casimir catches me before I can go far. He studies my expression from behind his mask.
“That’s not how I see this,” he says. “Not at all.”
