"You need more practice," Lilia declared over breakfast the morning before her departure. "The basic steps are fine, but there's an art to truly elegant dancing. And Lord Alexander, if I may be so bold, you're the perfect partner to help her learn."

  Alexander looked up from his correspondence, one eyebrow raised. "Is this a subtle matchmaking attempt, Miss Ashford?"

  "Subtle?" Lilia pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. "I'm never subtle. This is blatant matchmaking. But also practical—the next major gathering is in two months, and Eliana should be prepared."

  Heat crept into my face. "Lilia, I really don't think—"

  "It's a reasonable suggestion," Alexander interrupted, and there was something in his expression I couldn't quite read. Amusement? Interest? "If you're willing, Eliana, I'd be happy to help you practice. Dancing is as much about confidence as technique."

  Which was how, an hour after Lilia's carriage departed, I found myself in the manor's ballroom with Alexander, soft music playing from an enchanted music box, and my heart threatening to beat out of my chest.

  "Relax," Alexander said, taking my hand and settling his other at my waist. The touch, even through layers of fabric, sent sparks across my skin. "You're too tense. Dancing should feel natural."

  "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who might step on someone's feet."

  His smile was warm. "You won't. Just follow my lead."

  The music swelled, and we began to move. After a few measures, I started to find the rhythm, my body remembering the steps we'd practiced before the gathering. Alexander guided me with subtle pressure—a gentle push here, a light pull there, his movements confident and assured.

  "Better," he murmured. "Now, let's try something more advanced. When I turn you, don't fight the momentum. Trust that I'll bring you back."

  He demonstrated, spinning me outward and then drawing me back in, closer than before. The maneuver left us nearly chest-to-chest, my hand pressed against his shoulder, his arm solid around my waist.

  "Like that?" My voice came out breathier than intended.

  "Exactly like that." His voice had dropped lower. "Again?"

  We practiced the turn repeatedly, and each time he drew me back, we ended up a fraction closer. By the tenth repetition, there was barely any space between us at all. I could feel the warmth of him, catch the subtle scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Alexander. He leaned in just enough that his breath brushed my ear, and he murmured, "Come closer."

  "You're a quick learner," he said, and we weren't really moving anymore, just swaying slightly in place. "Much better than at the last gathering."

  "I have a good teacher."

  His hand at my waist tightened fractionally. "Eliana..."

  "Yes?"

  For a long moment he just looked at me, something intense and unreadable in his expression. Then he seemed to shake himself. "Let's try the full sequence. From the beginning."

  We danced through the entire routine, and this time I barely had to think about the steps. My body had learned the pattern, responding to his guidance instinctively. And somewhere in the middle of it, I realized we'd both stopped counting beats, stopped thinking about technique.

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  We were just dancing. Together. And it felt... right.

  When the music ended, we stood still, my hand still in his, his arm still around me. The ballroom felt very quiet.

  "You've mastered it," Alexander said softly. "You'll have no trouble at the next gathering."

  "Only if you're my partner." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  Something flickered across his face. "I would be honored. Though I should warn you—dancing with me tends to attract attention. People will talk."

  "Let them." I met his eyes directly. "I don't care what people say."

  His free hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture achingly gentle. "You should care. Your reputation—"

  "My reputation is my own concern." I tilted my chin up. "And if being seen with you damages it, then it wasn't worth much to begin with."

  He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh. "You're remarkable, you know that? Brave and brilliant and completely unconcerned with propriety."

  "Is that a criticism?"

  "It's admiration." His thumb brushed along my cheekbone. "Pure admiration. You're unlike anyone I've ever known."

  We were still standing far too close, his hand still cupping my face, and I felt the tension between us like a physical thing. All I'd have to do was rise slightly on my toes. All he'd have to do was lean down a fraction.

  But he didn't. And despite every instinct screaming at me to close that distance, neither did I.

  "We should practice the next sequence," Alexander said eventually, though he didn't move away. "There's a particularly complex step in the quadrille that trips up even experienced dancers."

  "Right. Yes. Practice." I stepped back, immediately missing his warmth. "Show me."

  We spent another hour in the ballroom, and if anyone had been watching, they might have thought we were genuinely focused on dancing. But I felt the weight of every glance, every touch, every moment when our eyes met and held a beat too long.

  This wasn't about preparing for a gathering. This was something else entirely.

  And I thought maybe Alexander knew it too.

  ---

  That evening, alone in my room, I found myself touching my face where his hand had rested. Lilia's words echoed in my mind: *Life's too short for regrets.*

  Maybe she was right. Maybe the risk of speaking was less than the risk of silence.

  But even thinking about it made my heart race and my palms sweat. Confession was easy in theory. In practice, with everything at stake, it felt impossible.

  I'd give myself one more day, I decided. One more day to gather courage.

  And then... then I'd find a way to tell him.

  Somehow.