“Absolutely not,” I said, laughing.
Blackwood appeared at the top of the stairs. “Has the Imperator gone?” He paused, looking baffled by the company. “What are you all doing?”
“Celebrations!” Wolff popped a cork and raised a foaming bottle in a toast. Dee went up the steps and dragged Blackwood down by the arm, and we all followed Magnus. We ended up in the music room, with an elegant, polished pianoforte. Normally, rows of chairs would be set up so that visitors could enjoy private concerts. But most of the furniture had been removed for Eliza’s debut ball, which was now only a few days away. The buffed parquet floor was simply begging to be used.
“Who here plays? Howel?” Magnus called as we entered. I went and plinked two notes. The instrument was very fine, but I’d always been a lackluster player at best. “No, we need an accomplished musician. Dee? You’re good with flutes,” Magnus said.
“Never played this before,” Dee admitted. Magnus shrugged, slapped Dee on the shoulder, and embraced Wolff. If only Lambe could have been here. If only he weren’t still up north, shut away in the Dombrey Priory. There were footsteps in the hall, and a breathless Maria ran into the room.
“You beat him?” she gasped.
Magnus gestured to the instrument. “You don’t know how to play, do you?”
Maria grinned. “No, but if anyone loves to dance…”
While Magnus tried picking out a simple song—not doing a very good job of it—I got some glasses from one of the servants. Dee and Wolff poured champagne, and we all toasted. Wolff even took swigs from the bottle, spluttering as it fizzed down the front of his shirt. Blackwood, meanwhile, looked as if he’d no idea how he’d got here.
Eliza rushed into the room. There was high color in her cheeks, her shoulders were back, and her eyes were bright and blazing. From the look of her, I expected a fight to break out, but she stopped short as she took in the laughing, shouting group. “George.” She stared at her brother. “You’re giving a party?”
“It just happened,” he said, as if he’d been accused of trying to murder someone.
“Play!” Magnus kissed Eliza’s hand. “We all know what a genius you are, my lady.”
Whatever anger I thought I’d glimpsed evaporated on the instant, and she blushed prettily.
“Well, if everyone would like.”
Magnus led her over to the pianoforte, where Eliza struck up a jaunty tune. Maria grabbed Dee and started dancing with him, hitching up her skirts rather daringly as she twirled about. His eyes bulged just watching her, while Wolff clapped in time to the music. Magnus and Blackwood stood against the wall and made room for me to slip in between them. It was so unusual to see them not at each other’s throats; this really had been a day of miracles. Together, we watched the dancing.
“Feels like old times,” I said.
At Agrippa’s, Dee had taught me to dance. Magnus would make fun of us from the side of the room, and Blackwood, seated nearby and studying some document, would shake his head and tell us how incorrigible we all were.
I didn’t let the memory drag me down. This was supposed to be a celebration.
“Agrippa would be happy to see us like this,” Magnus said quietly. He raised his glass in a toast to our absent Master and took a sip. “Eliza plays beautifully.”
“She does.” Blackwood looked proud as he watched his sister. Then, “She probably requires help turning the pages.”
“Indeed. Quite rude of me.” Magnus drained the last of his glass and went to the instrument. Eliza beamed up at him as he shuffled the music, and Blackwood and I were quiet together for a moment. I studied him from the corner of my eye. He really did have a striking look: his firm jawline and full mouth made him at once harsh and beautiful. That was him all over, a massive contradiction.
“This is the perfect night for dancing. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked.
“Perhaps.” I tilted my head. “Are you asking me?”
“That’s an idea.” He held out his hand, a challenge in his eyes. “Do you accept?”
I put my hand in his.
“Lead on,” I said, bemused.
Maria and Dee had stopped dancing, so the floor was entirely ours. Blackwood escorted me to the center.
“How about a waltz? I need the practice.” He nodded to his sister, who selected a piece with Magnus’s help.
Eliza’s fingers glided over the keys. The music was lilting and graceful, the melody wrapping around me like an airy caress. I leaned my head to the side, feeling the waltz’s movement. Eliza had an artist’s gift, truly. Blackwood slipped his hand to my waist, and I touched his shoulder delicately. We moved as one, back and forth, around and about.
“Thank you for lying to Whitechurch,” I whispered. We were close enough that no one could hear. “I’m afraid I’m always getting you into trouble.”
“You don’t need to thank me for anything, especially not now.” He squeezed my hand. “Before tonight, I’d never truly known triumph.” He made the word sound delicious, although maybe that was the champagne talking. He picked up speed, and I grinned as I managed to keep up. Gently, he pressed me closer against him. We’d never danced like this before, and I felt the surprising strength and grace of his body. We spun and whirled—one, two, three. One, two, three. Faces blurred around us.
“You’re not a bad waltzer at all.” I laughed. “You don’t need practice.”
“No.” He looked into my eyes. “I don’t.”
My next words faded. Blackwood wedded his gaze with mine. I had seen such intensity in him before, but it had never been focused upon me. Not like this. I might have compared it to the sun applying all its power on one lone spot upon the earth below. It was overwhelming. Strangely exhilarating. A bit frightening. I could have looked to the side, broken our gaze, but I found it difficult to do so. I half imagined he could see into the hidden compartments of my soul. Something inside me stirred to think of it.
Fanciful talk, that. Clearly, I’d had too much to drink. I imagined putting up a wall behind my eyes. And gradually, I felt him recede back into himself. The dance became just that, a dance.
Ridiculous to think it had ever been anything else. We came to rest as the music stopped, and Maria and the boys clapped enthusiastically, save Magnus. He watched us with a fixed expression.
I prepared to curtsy, but Blackwood didn’t release me right away. His hand still rested on my back, the faintest pressure through the silk of my dress, and I still hadn’t taken my hand from his shoulder. Finally, we stepped apart.
“Thank you,” he murmured, and bowed.
The lid of the pianoforte slammed shut, startling the room. Eliza stormed away from the instrument. Her face was white with anger.
“I think I should go upstairs. There’s a great deal of freedom down here,” she said. None of us knew what to say.
“Eliza, may I speak with you in the study?” Blackwood said.
“Do as you please. You always do.” Eliza rushed out of the room, her heeled shoes echoing sharply. Blackwood followed while the rest of us milled about in silence.
I couldn’t help myself—I went out after them. It’s not that I wanted to poke my nose into the Blackwoods’ anger, but I had an idea what this was about, and I wanted to support Eliza. Blackwood’s study was on the second floor, the door half-hidden behind a green silk tapestry. It had been his father’s, and he’d told me that he didn’t like going in there.
Odd that he should all of a sudden be using it. But it was private, and from the sound of Eliza’s voice behind the door, they were close to shouting; I had never heard anything like this from either of them before.
“You had no right to send a letter to Foxglove!” That was Eliza. So I’d been right. “I told you I don’t want anything to do with that wretched old man!”