She could see her acting wasn’t working on him. He’d always been a shrewd study when it came to interpersonal aspects. And her nerves had her faltering in her performance, which saw her press her lips together as she waited for his response. It came, but she could tell that he knew there was more to this interaction than surface level, and it made her regret asking him to dance. Even his response felt as if it held a bit of an edge to it; a dare, almost.

So when he held out his hand, gesturing to the dance floor, Irene knew she had no choice but to take it. For one, she’d started this; and second, to snub him in public (even if this was mixed magical society and his title mattered very little here) would not look kindly upon Cecilia. “Then I suppose we should take advantage of the situation and enjoy it.” She volleyed, doing everything she could to encourage the part of her that had been swiftly blown away once his name had been made apparent. “I do love a waltz.”

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