“I will show you.”
The shroud covering them faded away, and the harlequin led the peacock to the center of the ballroom, where the floor manager was filling the next set of dancers for a waltz. They took their places, and Nikolai rested Renata’s left hand on his right shoulder and wrapped his arm around her. With his other hand, he clasped hers and pulled her close. She held her breath.
“The beat is one-two-three,” he said quietly. “But don’t worry. All you have to do is follow me.”
As the orchestra began, Nikolai led Renata forward, sideways, backward, whispering, “One-two-three, one-two-three,” for the first few counts. She caught on quickly, and as they glided around and across the room, he dropped the count. “You’re dancing beautifully.”
Renata blushed.
They rose and fell with the music, whirling up and down and all around, and when the song ended, Renata asked, “Can we do that again?”
Nikolai shook his head. “Not immediately. It would be terrible etiquette if I monopolized your attention.”
“Besides,” a boy’s voice said behind him, “I would like a turn with the beautiful peacock.”
Ah, there he was. Nikolai knew it was Pasha without even looking. For all of Pasha’s claims that he wasn’t any good at planning ahead, he was masterful at it when it involved sneaking out, or, in this case, sneaking in. “I knew you would come early,” Nikolai said.
“I had to, before you stole the hearts of all the pretty girls.”
Renata blushed again.
Pasha stepped up from behind Nikolai to join them. He was an angel—white dress coat, white waistcoat, white shirt, white cravat, white trousers, white shoes, white gloves, white mask. The only things not white were his silver wings and the gold halo nestled in his hair.
“Renata, may I introduce—”
“Dmitri,” Pasha said. He winked at Nikolai. “Dmitri Petrov.”
Nikolai tilted his head in a question. But then again, why not? It was a masquerade, after all, and tonight was the one night Pasha could truly get away with being someone else. Just like Renata could be more than a servant girl.
Dmitri the Angel bowed, offered her his arm, and whisked her back to the dance floor. Nikolai watched them go. Then he retreated back to the edges of the ballroom, to wait for the real reason he had come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
When angelic Dmitri finished his dance with Renata, he led her off the floor, where she was immediately swept up by a pirate. The angel stayed a minute to confirm she was amenable to the pirate’s attentions, and then, having ensured that she was, Pasha took advantage of his disguise and invited another young lady to dance. And after that, another. And another, and another. Because as the tsesarevich, he never got to do this with such freedom, but as Dmitri the Angel, he could. Perhaps this would be the first ball ever at which he would dance with more girls than Nikolai did.
Eventually, the orchestra needed a break, and Pasha, flushed but content, decided to seek out Nikolai again. But his friend seemed to have disappeared from the ballroom.
What’s gotten into him lately? he thought as he made another pass by the dance floor, the refreshment station, and all the divans around the room. Nikolai couldn’t have left. It seemed unlikely that there would be another event tonight more compelling than the masquerade, and even more unlikely that Nikolai would have abandoned Pasha on the night of his birthday. Could he have? Pasha scanned the ballroom again.
However, his search was halted by the majordomo banging his staff at the entryway. The servants ceased their clearing of plates in the café area, and the guests around the dance floor stopped their chattering to turn to the entry of the ballroom.
“The Grand Princess Yuliana Alexandrovna Romanova!” the majordomo announced.
“What?” Pasha said. Beside him, a mermaid and a clown frowned.
Right. He shouldn’t disrespect his sister. And since he was in costume, the mermaid and clown didn’t know Yuliana was his sister. But he could not be here when she arrived.
The entire room stood rapt as they awaited the grand princess’s arrival. Only Pasha ignored the announcement and slipped out a side door.
He ducked in and out of the service passageways, deftly avoiding the servants carrying trays of sandwiches and fresh coffee to the ballroom, and reemerged through another service door into a small chamber his mother occasionally used for holding audiences with those who wished to speak to her.