Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,20

pleased with herself, and she thought she caught her father’s name, too, and the word “trial”—

Cordelia stiffened her spine. She had made a mistake in mentioning Paris; she would not compound it by seeming weak. She gazed out upon the dance floor, a smile glued to her lips. She caught sight of her brother, now in conversation with Thomas Lightwood. The two boys sat casually on a rout-seat together, as if they were exchanging confidences. Even Alastair was doing a better job of charming the influential than she was.

Not far from them, leaning against a wall, was a girl dressed in the height of fashion—men’s fashion. Tall and almost painfully slender, she had dark, dark hair like Will and James did. Hers was cut short and smoothed down with pomade, the edges finger-combed into careful curls. Her hands were long, ink-and-tobacco-stained and beautiful to look at, like the hands on a statue. She was smoking a cheroot, the smoke drifting up past her face, which was unusual: fine-boned and sharp edged.

Anna, Cordelia realized. This was Anna Lightwood, Lucie’s cousin. She was certainly the most intimidating person in the room.

“Oh, my,” said Catherine, as the music rose. “It’s a waltz.”

Cordelia glanced down. She knew how to dance: her mother had engaged an expert instructor to teach her the quadrille and the lancer, the stately minuet and the cotillion. But the waltz was a seductive dance, one where you could feel your partner’s body against yours, scandalous when it had first become popular. She’d never learned it.

She very much wanted to dance it with James. But he probably didn’t even wish to dance at all; he probably wanted to talk with his friends, as any young man would. She heard another spate of giggles and whispers, and Catherine’s voice saying, “Isn’t she that girl whose father—”

“Daisy? Would you like to dance?”

There was only one boy who called her that. She looked up, incredulous, to see James standing in front of her.

His beautiful hair was disorderly, as it always was, and more charming for that: a lock of it fell over his forehead, and his lashes were thick and dark over his pale gold eyes. His cheekbones arched like wings.

The group of girls had fallen into a stunned silence. Cordelia felt as if she might be floating.

“I don’t,” she faltered, having no idea what she was saying, “quite know how to waltz.”

“Then I shall teach you,” James said, and a moment later they had whirled out onto the dance floor.

“Thank goodness you were free,” James said with frank cheerfulness as they moved among the other couples, searching for a space. “I was afraid I’d have to ask Catherine to dance, and all she talks about is how scandalous Matthew is.”

“Glad to be of service,” said Cordelia, a bit breathless. “But I truly can’t waltz.”

“Oh, neither can I.” He grinned and spun to face her. She was so close to him, and they were touching, his hand on her forearm. “At least not well. Shall we agree to try not to mash each other’s toes?”

“I can try,” Cordelia said, then gave a small squeak as he drew her into his arms. The room swam for a moment. This was James, her James, and he was holding her, his hand on her shoulder blade. He took her other hand and placed it firmly on his arm.

And then they were off, and she was doing her best to follow. She had learned that much at least: how to be led in a dance, how to respond to your partner’s hinted movements. James danced well—nothing surprising there, given how graceful he was—and he made it easy to follow him.

“Not bad,” James said. He blew at the lock of hair dangling over his forehead, but that only made it fall farther into his eyes. He grinned ruefully as Cordelia forced herself through sheer exercise of will not to reach up and push it back. “Still, always embarrassing when your parents dance better than you do.”

“Humph,” Cordelia said. “Speak for yourself.” She caught sight of Lucie dancing with Matthew a few feet away. Lucie was laughing. “Maybe Catherine is in love with Matthew,” she suggested. “Maybe he holds a dark fascination for her.”

“That would be exciting. And I assure you, nothing exciting has happened to the London Enclave in a very long time.”

Dancing with James was its own reward, of course, but it occurred to Cordelia that it might also be useful. “I was just thinking how very many