employer a great service tonight.”
She furrows her brow. “Are you all right?”
The concern in her eyes nearly undoes me, sends all my rage flooding to my toes and leaving sorrow in its place. All I can do is nod.
“Ember!” Imogen hisses, snapping her fingers for the girl to follow.
She looks like she wants to say more, but I’m glad she doesn’t. I can’t take another second of her sympathy. Not when tears are already forming behind my eyes. She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you again,” she whispers, then jogs to catch up with the rest of her party.
I remain in place, listening as the final guests are ushered outside.
With the manor quiet, its residents asleep, and all our hired staff either on their way home or settling in the guest rooms we’ve offered for the night, I’m finally able to seek out Elliot. It proves harder than I expect, finding no sign of him in the gardens, the parlor, or the kitchen. I make my way upstairs, wondering where he’s gone off to hide. With very little else to work with, I head toward the library. I don’t dare seek out his private quarters, even though I know they’re nearby, but I’m hoping he’s yet to retire for the night. There’s no way I can bottle in what I must say for even an hour more.
I make it to the library, finding the sconces alight with a soft glow, but the room is empty. My heart sinks. Where do I go from here? Did Elliot truly abandon me to finish the night on my own? A hint of irritation turns in my stomach, which helps burn away some of the residual rage and sorrow that continues to drag my steps.
With a sigh, I turn to the comfort of my silent companions, brushing my fingers along the spines of books as I slowly pace the perimeter of the room.
“Ah, I should have known I’d find you here eventually.”
I round on Elliot with a scowl. “Where the hell have you been?”
He smirks, as if amused by my reaction. “Looking for you. That and hiding.” Still wearing his prosthetic, he’s dressed down to his shirt and trousers, his cravat hanging loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his upper chest.
I avert my gaze, fixating instead on the selection of titles on the shelf before me. “I take it you’ve done more hiding than searching for me, because I’ve been looking for you for the better part of an hour.”
He walks into the room and makes his way slowly toward me. “I’m sorry,” he says, tone genuine. “I couldn’t take any more pretending tonight. My lips were going to split in half if I had to feign one more smile. Besides, I didn’t see you even once after our dance. I was getting worried.”
I cast him a quick glance. “I was around. And when I saw you, it seemed you were doing just fine pretending.” I hate the bitter edge to my tone, unsure how it got there.
“Was Imogen convinced?”
I swallow hard, dread sinking my stomach. “She was. Which brings me to the reason I came to find you.”
“Not yet,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Give me some peace from Imogen Coleman.”
I shrug. “You’re the one who brought her up. And it’s important we talk about—”
“Please.” He meets my eyes, looking worn and empty. An echo of what I feel inside. “Let it just be us for a minute.”
I don’t know what he means by that, but I force myself to hold my tongue.
He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, as if relishing the silence between us. When he straightens, a small smile lifts the corners of his lips. Then, slowly, he extends his hand. “May I have this dance?”
My pulse quickens, but I convince my traitorous heart not to join it. “The dance is over, Mr. Rochester.”
“Humor me,” he says, voice deep and rumbling. But there’s another quality to it, one that’s somehow tired and playful at the same time. “You forced me to dance and talk to people we both hate. It’s the least you can do.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “I thought the least I could do was dance with you the first time.”
He says nothing, keeping his arm outstretched as his smile folds into a devious smirk.
It’s a smirk that has my mouth fluttering in response, and I can’t bring myself