A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(83)

Now his scowl eased back, replaced by confusion. Yet on we danced—step, two, three, step, two, three.

“Where’s your monocle?” I asked. “I bet it would look very jaunty on you tonight.”

“Jaunty?” he repeated.

“Yes! You look so wonderful, and I think the monocle would look lovely with your suit. So where is it?” One, two, three, step, step, step.

“With . . . with my other clothes.” His eyebrows curved down. “Joseph and I’ve been out all afternoon in search of Jie. We had to change into our suits here. . . . Eleanor, why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . like you’re drunk. You don’t smell of alcohol, so what is this . . . this giddiness?” He whirled me past Madame Marineaux, and I gave her my brightest, happiest grin. “And,” he said, “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” I laughed. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had!”

“See? That’s not normal. Not after what happened this afternoon.”

“What happened this afternoon?”

His careful step-step-step faltered. “Are you jokin’ with me?”

“I would never joke with you, Daniel—not unless you wanted me to.”

He stopped waltzing, and I spun directly into him. I grasped at his shoulders, melting into his chest. Maybe he’ll kiss me.

But he didn’t. He twisted me around and yanked me off the dance floor.

“The waltz isn’t over!” I cried.

“No, but you are. We’re done dancin’.” He pulled me roughly toward the archways leading back to the stairwell, yet before we could get to the marble steps, Madame Marineaux strode into our path.

“Monsieur Sheridan, where are you taking Mademoiselle Fitt?” Her eyes darted from my face to

Daniel’s.

“I’m takin’ her to . . . to talk.”

“You can talk here.” Madame Marineaux bared her teeth in a smile. “First you refuse to follow the rules of the dance card, and now you are stealing her from the ball.”

Daniel glared. “I wish to speak to her in private. I told you that before, but you seem to think you’re in charge of her dance partners.”

“And I told you, Monsieur, that I am her chaperone for the evening.”

“I’ll speak to her one way or another, Madame. We have personal things to discuss.”

My heart fluttered. Personal things? Love, perhaps?

“It is not appropriate,” Madame Marineaux declared, “for a young woman to wander off with a young man.” She raised her chin imperiously. “Monsieur Sheridan, please release Mademoiselle Fitt.”

Except I did not want Daniel to release me. I turned pleading eyes on Madame Marineaux. “Please, I will only be a moment. I promise.”

Madame Marineaux’s nostrils flared, and if it wasn’t for her wide grin, I would have thought she was angry with me. “I do not think that wise. I am your chaperone, after all.”

“But I know Daniel, and it will only be a moment.”

She stood taller, suddenly seeming to tower over me despite being several inches shorter.

“Mademoiselle Fitt, I absolutely insist you leave this young man and you come with me. Why, simply consider what the gossip mongrels will say if you leave with—”

“Gossip be damned,” Daniel snarled, pushing past Madame Marineaux. “She’s comin’ with me, and that’s final.” He yanked me onward.

As I stumbled past, I opened my mouth to offer Madame Marineaux an apology. But her eyes blazed so brightly that their golden sheen was almost yellow—and I was so startled, I forgot my words.

Daniel towed me down to the first floor with the bronze statues and their glowing candelabras. He guided me around a bend and farther down. At the stairs’ lowest landing, we passed a small fountain before hurrying into a round room with a velvet sofa at the center. It was a waiting room beside the theater’s back entrance. Daniel hauled me to the sofa and forced me to sit down.

He crouched on the floor before me, his face barely visible in the dim candlelight. “What is going on, Empress?”

“I do not know. You are the one who led me here.” I batted my lashes at him, hoping he would find this attractive.

It would seem he didn’t, for he gave a low groan and shot back to his feet. “Something’s not right.

You’re actin’ like a lunatic, and you have no memory of what happened earlier—”

“What happened earlier?” I puffed out my lips.

“That’s exactly what I mean. Something’s not right.” He stared down at me. “I’m gonna go grab our things and find Joseph. You”—he pointed his finger in my face—“are gonna stay right here. I don’t care who comes down here or who tries to talk to you. Tell them you’re waiting for the Spirit-

Hunters. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I flipped at my curls. “I wait here.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes ran anxiously over me. Then he lowered his hand. “I mean it, Empress. Don’t move.” Then he spun on his heel and marched off.

I watched him go until he passed the small fountain and I could no longer see him, then I smoothed my bodice, adjusted my skirts, and fingered the roses in my hair. I could hear the mazurka overhead, and I wanted to dance it. I wanted to glide over the dance floor with Daniel again—to feel the air on my shoulders and the men’s eyes on my face. . . .