“It’s from Jack,” Harte said. “He wants to have dinner with us tomorrow night.”
She tried not to gloat—really she did—but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t,” he growled, his expression hard. “This didn’t happen because of what you did out there. It happened in spite of it.” He waved the paper at her. “You could have ruined everything.”
“But . . .” Her smile faltered.
“Did you even consider that your little improvisation might not have worked? We hadn’t rehearsed it. I’ve been working for months to get Jack to believe that I am what I say I am. We had one chance for Jack to see you for the first time. One. Any misstep could have ruined all of that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly struck by how impulsive she’d been. How thoughtless.
“You’re lucky I don’t call this whole thing off,” he told her. “I could tell Jack everything I know about you and the Met. I could wash my hands of Dolph Saunders and this whole mess of his.”
“No!” She stepped toward him and grabbed his arm. “Please, don’t.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” he said. “Why shouldn’t I wash my hands of the lot of you?”
Shame burned her cheeks, and she might as well have been standing in Professor Lachlan’s office, listening to him tell her the exact same thing. “Because it’s not their fault,” she said softly. “Don’t punish them for what I did.”
He studied her, and she could barely breathe while she waited for his answer. “This is the Order we’re talking about, Esta. If they find out what we are—if Jack finds out what I am—it’s not going to end well. I won’t let your carelessness take me down with you. If we’re going to do this, I have to be able to trust you to do what you say you’re going to do. Otherwise, I’m done. I’m out for good. Damn Dolph and the lot of you.”
“You don’t have to worry,” she promised. “It won’t happen again.” She forced herself to meet his eyes, hoping that he didn’t see the lie there.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she insisted, praying he would believe her. “You can trust me.” At least until the very end.
A NEW PARTNERSHIP
The Haymarket
Ever since he’d confronted her after their performance, Harte had noticed that Esta was more subdued. Not cowed, by any means, but watchful, like she was waiting for something. But as the hack pulled up to their destination, she looked downright nervous.
“I’m not going in there,” Esta said, when she realized where the carriage had stopped. “You should have warned me. I never would have come.”
“I thought you’d appreciate the surprise,” he said, confused by her reaction. “After all, this is where we first met.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, trying again to tug away from him. “People in there . . .” She hesitated as though searching for the right word. “They might recognize me. It could ruin everything.”
Ignoring the stiffness in her posture, he held her out at arm’s length and took a moment to look her over. She was wearing the dress he’d picked from the ones she’d bought—or taken. He never knew for sure with her. It was a golden color with beads that caught the light no matter how she moved. Strings of more beads were all that covered her shoulders, and the neckline dipped dramatically to showcase the gentle slope of her chest and the garnet collar that sat around her throat. She looked like a living flame.
She’d argued that something more inconspicuous would be better. In the end, though, she’d agreed with him that Jack needed to be impressed by her and had worn the dress. But seeing it in his apartment was different from seeing the gown in the moonlight. And knowing that he’d picked it for her, that she’d willingly worn it for him, was another thing altogether. And he didn’t want to think too much about how that made him feel.
“They won’t recognize you,” he said, giving her a smoldering look meant to tease as much as to assure her. “No one would—not looking like that.”
The compliment had the effect he’d intended, and she snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know a line when I hear one, Darrigan.”
He met her gaze before he spoke. “Then you should know that wasn’t a line.”
She gave him her usual scowl, but her shoulders relaxed a little and she looked more like herself.
He took her hand and tucked it through his arm. “Are you ready?”
“I don’t think—”
“This will work. Just stay close, and you’ll be fine.” He started to lead her toward the Haymarket, but when they were almost to the door, he stopped, remembering something. “If anything should happen tonight—”
“You just told me everything would be fine.”
“It will be,” he assured her. “Whatever you do, though, no magic once we’re inside. Corey’s security is trained to detect it, and they won’t hesitate to act if they sense you using it. ?You’re lucky you got out without them catching you last time.”
Esta stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. Her mouth was slightly open, and she was looking at him as though she’d never seen him before.
“You were trying to help me,” she said. “That night when we first met. You had a reason for manhandling me, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he told her, and before she could press him about it any more, he led them toward the dance hall’s entrance.
Inside, the band was playing a ballad—Harte recognized the melody as one of the songs Evelyn belted out onstage each night. He led Esta through the crush of people and around the main floor of the ballroom. “I want a table upstairs, where we can see the whole floor. I don’t want to miss Jack when he comes in.”
Fastening an aura of ease and charm around him like armor, Harte made his way through the room slowly, knowing exactly how uncomfortable she was with being paraded around and introduced to various people they encountered. She smiled and said all the right things, but every time he stopped to chat with someone, her posture grew more rigid and her smile more strained. He’d been around her long enough now that he was starting to learn the subtle shifts in her mood. Esta might always act as though nothing touched her, but tonight her eyes were giving her away. She was still on edge.
Eventually he found them an empty table at the balcony railing with a clear view of the first floor. Below, the Haymarket was alive with color. Women in brightly colored gowns swirled around the dance floor, while pink-faced men leaned against the central bar, laughing too loud as they held their tumblers of whiskey. Across the table from him, Esta was quiet, watching the room with guarded eyes.
After a few minutes of silence, she spoke, startling him from his thoughts. “You love all of this, don’t you?”
“What?” He took his eyes from the door to look at her.