She wouldn’t have asked him to dance if she’d known he didn’t know how. Humiliating him like that, in front of all her friends, would not win him over. And from the rigid line of his shoulders and the stiffness in his step beside her, she could tell his guard was still up.
If she was going to ensnare him, she needed to first put him at ease.
“I apologize for my guests. You’re a novelty here, you must know that. They couldn’t help but stare.”
He scanned their surroundings, taking in everything from the pale blue floor tiles to the white marble columns lining this hall. “Is that a nice way of saying I lack pedigree?”
“Not at all!” She forced a laugh, settling into her persona. “Just look at your suit.”
“It was my father’s,” he said, defensive.
Rune’s footsteps slowed. He thinks I’m making fun of him.
How was she botching this so badly?
“Wait …” She frowned, realizing what he’d said. “It was your father’s suit, or your father made it?”
“Both.”
Rune stopped walking altogether. Gideon was several yards ahead. Realizing she was no longer at his side, he turned to face her.
“Gideon. You’re wearing a vintage suit made by the Sharpe Duet, and you think my guests are laughing at your pedigree?”
He cocked his head. “Yes?”
She stared at him. He really doesn’t know.
Nan and her friends owned nothing made by the Sharpe Duet, but not for lack of trying. Until now, Rune had never even seen one of their garments up close.
“A collector would pay tens of thousands of dollars for that jacket alone,” she told him. “Because it’s so rare.”
“Because my parents are dead, you mean.”
Rune winced. Technically, yes. That they were no longer alive to make more garments increased the value of those currently in existence. But the Sharpes’ designs had been rare before they died. Once the Sister Queens employed them, Sun and Levi Sharpe tailored for the Rosebloods alone, ensuring few originals were ever made.
Surely he knew this?
“What I’m trying to say is, if my guests are staring at you, it’s because you’re Gideon Sharpe, a living legend. A hero who risked his life leading revolutionaries into the palace and single-handedly killing two witch queens.”
She didn’t fake the awe in her voice. Rune might despise him for what he’d done, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t impressed by the courage it had required.
“They’re staring at you because you’re at the same party they are. You’re not exactly known for accepting invitations.”
“I lack basic manners, you mean.” He nodded, as if understanding. “I don’t see how that’s different from lacking in pedigree, though.”
She growled a little. He seemed to be intentionally misunderstanding her.
To her surprise, Gideon smiled. If you could call the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth a smile.
Is he … teasing me?
A furious heat rushed up her neck. Has he been teasing me this whole time?
Seeing her blush, the corner of Gideon’s mouth did curve upward, staying that way for several seconds.
Rune looked away, trying to focus. Remember the plan. Lure him in.
“If you attended more of my parties,” she said, continuing forward to rejoin him, “I could ensure you knew how to dance to any song when a girl asks you.”
“Are you offering to give me lessons?”
The question caught her off guard.
Am I?
Rune had taught his brother. Alex was an eager pupil, happy to let her lead. She doubted Gideon would subject himself to such a thing.
“I …”
“A girl like you has better things to do with her time, surely.”
She didn’t. Not during the day, which was full of dreary social calls: picnics and luncheons and carriage rides, all so she could wring gossip from her friends like drops of water from a wet towel, desperately hoping it might help her save one more witch.
But he didn’t really seem interested.
“You don’t have to deflect,” she said. “You can simply say you don’t want to dance with me.”
He glanced sharply toward her. “That’s not …”
This time, he stopped walking. When Rune turned to face him, she found his jaw clenched. He rubbed a hand over it.
“I have a counteroffer: you could accompany me to an actual party.” He glanced back in the ballroom’s direction. “There will be no ball gowns. No hired musicians. No songs with ridiculous steps …”
He trailed off, studying Rune in the flickering light of the gas lamps throughout the hall. Remembering himself, he shook his head. “A girl like you wouldn’t be caught dead dancing with riffraff in disreputable locales.”
The idea of it thrilled her, actually.
Though it definitely shouldn’t.
“Who says I’ll get caught? Name the date, and I’ll be there.”
The frown creasing his forehead deepened. “Careful, Miss Winters, or I might call your bluff.”
“Are you so sure I’m bluffing?”
Again, his mouth twitched. As if he wanted to smile.
It felt like victory.
Rune let the subject drop and led him up another grand staircase to the third floor, where two double doors led into the second-largest room of the house.
“This is Alex’s favorite room.”
Gideon followed her into the dark expanse, which carried the faint smell of stale tea and old books. In front of them, windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling three stories above. The panes faced Nan’s gardens and, beyond that, the cliffs leading down to the sea. In the distant water, the moon’s reflection was a white candle flame flickering in and out of the waves.
Rune lit the gaslights, illuminating the room, and watched Gideon walk a slow circle, taking in the walls of shelves lined with books, the balconies on the second and third level, the spiral staircase rising to the top of it all.
“Any spell books in here?” he asked.
Rune’s heart tumbled over itself.
After the New Dawn, the Good Commander declared all objects used for witchcraft to be contraband. Finding a spell book in a citizen’s possession was enough to accuse them of sympathizing with witches.
“Feel free to look,” she said, hiding her panic behind a smile. She’d hidden all of her spell books in the casting room. “I won’t stop you.”
Gideon seemed about to say more when a large silhouette near the window caught his eye.
“Is that …?”
It was a grand piano. Alex had his own piano now, but he still preferred this one. He often spent all day here, practicing on it.
“No wonder Alex spent so much time here.”
Alex had been coming to Wintersea House nearly every day since he was eleven years old to play piano. Rune had hated her lessons, hated practicing, hated even the sight of those black and white keys. But Nan refused to let her quit. Alex was not only desperate to play, he was actually good at it. It was a shame that his family couldn’t afford to give him lessons. So Rune blackmailed her tutor into giving Alex hers, and by the time Nan found out, months had already passed.
Gideon strode over to the instrument, walking around it before coming to stand on the other side of the bench, facing the keys.
“Do you play?” she asked.
“Not at all.” He pressed down on a single ivory key. The E note rang, smooth and clear, through the room. “My brother is the musical one.”
Rune nodded. No one played as beautifully as Alex. Even Nan had come round to him in the end, wooed by his raw talent.
“The day his acceptance letter came from the Royal Conservatory, he hid it from our parents.” Gideon pressed down on another key—A this time—and the note hummed from deep in the piano’s heart.
Rune frowned. Alex had never told her that. “Why?”
“Our family could barely afford rent, never mind that kind of tuition. He didn’t want them to feel ashamed.”
If Alex had come to Rune, she would have convinced Nan to lend him the money—or figured out a way to pay it herself. The Royal Conservatory was a prestigious school on the mainland. Their music program was so competitive, the school accepted only a handful of students each year.
But Alex had studied at the Conservatory. For a few years, anyway. When the revolution struck, he left the program and never went back.