Dance to Escape
Wilhelmina Priestley.
She stood behind her brother Benjamin in a green dress trimmed with black tournay lace, the very picture of detached innocence—yet Cassian had seen it clearly. Only moments before, she had shoved Benjamin’s back with merciless precision, timed to perfection.
Even when their eyes met, Wilhelmina showed not a flicker of fluster. She offered him a soft, smiling glance and mouthed the words without a sound.
Did you see that?
He was speechless.
He had no choice but to admit it. Wilhelmina’s pitiless technique was swift and clean. He would wager that was not the skill of someone who had tried it once or twice.
Better than expected. The moment he reached that conclusion, Cassian smoothly arranged his features into an expression of polite apology directed at those around him.
“Forgive me. It seems my appointment has just arrived. I ought to take my leave.”
“Your appointment—surely you don’t mean…”
After savoring the first crack of genuine alarm on Earl Wilbright’s face, Cassian brushed past him and extended his hand toward Wilhelmina.
“Shall we, Miss Priestley?”
Undignified astonishment rippled through the crowd.
“What on earth…”
“His prior engagement… Miss Priestley?”
Through the gaping mouths and staring eyes, Wilhelmina glided forward with unhurried grace. Her hand settled lightly atop Cassian’s, her steps as smooth as silk.
“Then that means…”
Someone behind them muttered in a daze.
“Don’t tell me the boatman of the Tess was His Grace the Duke of Clifford all along?”
“Quiet! Everyone can hear you!”
Everyone had heard.
Wilhelmina did not so much as blink. Cassian, pretending to escort her, lowered his voice.
“Ought I to say it is an honor to have witnessed such impressive skill?”
“You flatter me.”
“Possessing such excellent problem-solving ability, I assume you already have a plan for what we ought to do next.”
“Naturally.”
Walking at his side, Wilhelmina kept her gaze fixed haughtily ahead.
“We run.”
“Surely you are not suggesting we parade ourselves alone toward the balcony in the middle of all this?”
Only then did Wilhelmina arch a brow and look sharply up at him.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace.”
The laughter vanished from her hazel eyes; they flashed like a bird of prey.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“No.”
Even as he answered, Cassian made no effort to suppress the smile that slipped free. Perhaps that was why Wilhelmina still regarded him with lingering distrust.
“Listen carefully, Your Grace.”
“I am listening.”
“First: never again utter, in a place like this, any dangerous word that would send Winster’s gossips into a frenzy.”
“You mean ‘balcony’?”
Instead of answering, Wilhelmina crushed the toe of his shoe. Hard.
“And second.”
The warning that one more piece of nonsense would earn his instep the same treatment needed no words; it came through perfectly clear.
“In a setting like this, there is only one way to hold a private conversation beyond prying eyes.”
“And what, precisely, is that?”
As if on cue, the orchestra struck up a new dance. Wilhelmina rolled her eyes elegantly, as if to say there, and gave a slight nod.
“A dance, Your Grace.”
Beneath the glittering chandeliers, couples were already gathering to catch the waltz’s melody.
Half guided by Wilhelmina into their midst, Cassian was soon forced to concede that her idea had been excellent.
“People who are dancing tend to have eyes only for each other. Or else…”
Wilhelmina slanted him a sly little smile.
“They must at least pretend to.”
Ah. Cassian grinned and nodded.
“I take your meaning.”
Unfamiliar as he might be with the peaceful, luxurious physiology of a ballroom, Cassian’s dancing itself was nothing to criticize. It was not particularly brilliant either—but Wilhelmina was in much the same boat, so she had little room to complain.
“Your skill at using your elder brother as an excellent human shield was truly impressive.”
As they completed the first gentle turn in time with the music, Cassian finally spoke.
“I had heard that the Priestley siblings share an especially close bond, but I never imagined the manner of proving that bond would be quite so original.”
“Your Grace demonstrated the fact that this ball is a rare outing for you in a rather original fashion yourself.”
“I suppose I did.”
Cassian’s calm agreement carried not the slightest hint of shame over his own awkwardness.
“Aren’t you admitting it a little too readily?”
“Acknowledging a fact requires no great effort. And while we are on the subject…”
Half-embracing Wilhelmina as her skirts flared and spun, Cassian murmured low behind her ear.
“Might you begin to repay me for the pleasure of watching my pitiful plight?”
“Pardon? ‘Pitiful’?”
Wilhelmina’s brows shot up of their own accord.
“Your choice of words is rather deceptive.”
“In what way?”
“In what way, you ask?”
She slipped swiftly from his hold. Green silk brushed his legs as softly as a fish’s fin.
“You laid out an entire chessboard with yourself as bait and then sat back to watch how I would prove my worth upon it.”
At her sharp redefinition of the situation, Cassian merely smiled with lazy amusement. Wilhelmina leveled a pointed look at him for a moment, then finished her thought with a deft turn.
“In any case, ‘pitiful’ seems a rather inappropriate adjective for someone like you.”
He was a man who could have extracted himself from that situation a hundred times over had he wished. He could simply have chosen never to show his face at this irreverent ball in the first place.
The sole reason Cassian had stood patiently in the middle of that tiresome throng was to verify whether Wilhelmina was truly the useful card she had so confidently claimed to be.
Cassian smiled a little. Then he nodded without resistance.
“I won’t bother denying it.”
Just as Wilhelmina’s hazel eyes flashed upward and she prepared to fire off a retort, Cassian suddenly pulled her hard against him.
“……!”
To onlookers it would have looked like a minor misstep caused by a sharp turn in the waltz—but Wilhelmina, the one experiencing it, knew better. The movement was entirely deliberate.
“I surrender.”
The moonlit eyes regarding her from so close were dark with laughter.
“You were right.”
A soft shiver ran through her.
Cassian’s composure in declaring defeat bordered on the uncanny. Considering that most men would sooner drown themselves nose-first in the Tess than admit they had lost to a woman, it was all the more striking.
That flexible attitude taught Wilhelmina at least one clear truth.
This man was not locked inside the stuffy, petty prison of masculinity that had confined every other gentleman she had dealt with.
Which meant he was going to be a far more troublesome opponent than she had anticipated.
“I need you.”
That whispering voice.
Even with a stifling corset cinching her breath and a dress layered over it, Wilhelmina felt she could pinpoint the exact location of his fingers brushing the seam stitched with stiff whalebone.
Perhaps because every sense stood unusually sharp. She understood with perfect clarity what the man smiling so beautifully intended. From that vivid intuition she summoned her stubborn pride and smiled back.
“Your Grace’s strategy is…”
Following the melody, the distance between them opened once more.