They spent so many nights talking about it—or very loudly not talking about it—because they always came back to their same answers: Claire declared it was her choice to put her life on the line with him, and Jack maintained he could never forgive himself if anything happened to her. Claire always countered that he shouldn’t blame himself any more than he’d want her to blame herself if he got hurt, but Jack was the pimpernel.
He was in charge.
He called the shots.
If one of those shots got Claire hurt, how could he forgive himself?
When presented with that scenario, Claire always replied that Jack would blame himself if anyone got hurt that way, not just her. And she was right.
But losing Claire would be different. The mere thought sent a flash-freeze through his soul—quick as a blink, but with enough kick to make fear show in his eyes for a second before he blinked them back to normal.
But not before Malachi saw the break in his armor.
A hint of pity touched Malachi’s eyes as he stepped forward and adjusted Jack’s cravat.
“I came here to tell you that Claire is very excited to dance with you, my friend,” he said softly. “I know there is business to attend to between the two of you, but take a moment to appreciate the human part of this as well. You won’t regret it.”
“I don’t need your advice,” Jack bit out, tasting the lie on his lips as he spoke.
Before he’d caught sight of Malachi in the hallway, he’d been ready to run straight to Claire, pull her to the side, and talk for as long as they could. A dance wouldn’t have occurred to him until the conversation ran dry. Even then, the dance would have still been a little bit business.
And that would be a shame.
Jack had no idea what the rest of the night might hold for them, but he could make sure they got at least one memorable dance out of it.
As much as he hated it, Jack was grateful for Malachi’s suggestion.
“I’m not done with you,” he said. “But the clock is ticking right now, and I don’t want to spend this time talking to you. Next time we see each other, I expect you to finish this conversation with me if you want things good between us.”
Malachi nodded. “A rain check, then.”
“Rain check,” Jack agreed before stepping past Malachi and back through the door. Then he ran down the rest of the steps.
Chapter 14
Claire
When the first strains of the Blue Danube Waltz rose up from the orchestra, Selene was blocking off a waiter while Margot complained that she was definitely not drunk enough to deal with the night.
Claire wasn’t the only one to perk up as the signature swells filled the room. All around, people seemed to start pairing up, and Claire’s eyes went to the dance floor with longing as couples moved into dancing positions.
At her side, Ethan bowed to Selene, his hand outstretched. “The first waltz of the night. May I have this dance, my love?”
Claire’s heart fluttered at the couple’s obvious bond until she caught sight of the scowl Margot was directing across the room. In a flash, Claire went from vicarious swooning to righteous indignation as she searched for the target of her boss’s wrath.
All she saw was a vacant doorway. Somehow that was worse than finding a face.
Whoever Margot’s husband was, he had to have a heart of ice. What sane man wouldn’t be glued to her side all night? Claire needed to meet this guy … this king. Peasant that she was, Claire would happily give him a piece of her mind.
“It would be my pleasure,” Selene replied, placing her hand in Ethan’s before casting a look Claire’s way. “Make sure this one doesn’t drink until I get back?”
Claire nodded. There was plenty for her and Margot to keep talking about anyway … and she would try very hard not to make the husband the first topic of conversation, but it was kind of hard to think about anything else.
“I’ll watch her,” Claire promised.
“I’m not a child,” Margot pouted, which was indication enough that she wasn’t totally sober.
Ren chose that moment to return to his post, bolstering Claire’s confidence. Because who was she kidding? One glare from Margot, and Claire was likely to hand her boss an entire bottle.
But Ren could stop her.
In fact, Margot already looked more at ease now that her bodyguard was back.
For a distracted moment, Claire couldn’t help but wonder how hard it was for the two of them to keep things professional all the time. Yes, apparently Margot was married, but she didn’t have a marriage like her brother. It wasn’t a love match.
But there was definitely love between Margot and Ren, even if neither of them acted on it.
How hard must it be to marry one person out of duty while you loved another? Not only did Claire not understand that, she didn’t want to.
She looked back to Ethan as he escorted Selene to the ballroom floor. Theirs was the kind of marriage she wanted. Kind looks, easy kisses, quick blushes, and obvious chemistry that warned poachers away.
Claire wanted the dream.
As the ballroom filled with couples, it was clear she wasn’t the only one. Claire might know next to nothing about all of these people, but she knew love when she saw it. And there was a whole lot of coupled love heading to the dance floor for the first waltz.
The acoustics of the space only added to the moment … something about the soulful French horns with flutes over the top luring nearly everyone—including the prince—to the dance floor.
Surprised to see the boy off the throne, Claire looked up to where she’d last seen Jack and found the entire pedestal empty.
“He’s right there,” Margot drawled from behind her, but Claire didn’t need to see where she was pointing. All she had to do was look for cobalt in a monochromatic room.
And there he was.
Walking her way.
The moment they locked eyes, she couldn’t look away. Sometimes she wished she could be a little more coy and a little less obvious. She wished she could pull off an aura of sexy mystique, like Margot, but all she could think was that she was holding a very warm glass of white wine and she had no idea what to do with it. Setting it down would require looking away, and she didn’t want to look away. But she didn’t want to be holding the glass when Jack arrived either.
These were the kind of things her genius IQ struggled with.
Keep the glass, an inner voice piped up. Your hands still need something to do.
Either her inner voices were getting more rational, or she was getting more crazy. Whatever the case, Claire was about to get asked to dance. She could see it in Jack’s eyes.
He was just a few steps away from her when the orchestra moved into the full tempo of the waltz. Behind him, dozens of couples in elegant attire began dancing like there was a trophy on the line. They looked majestic and Claire felt her confidence falter.
Until her eyes caught Jack’s again.
She could see the hazel in his eyes now. He wasn’t mad. Concerned? Maybe. Confused? Definitely. But he looked happy to see her.
That was good.
Then he was standing across from her, hand outstretched, bowing at the waist.
“May I have this dance?”
She could have swooned. Wait. She was swooning because this was really happening and she was still holding that darn glass so she couldn’t be as elegant as Selene had just been about being swept out onto the dance floor.
Suddenly, Margot’s waiter was at her side, holding an empty tray her way.
Oh. She could get used to this.
“Thank you,” she said, stowing the glass before placing her gloved hand in Jack’s. “I’d love nothing more.”
Part of her said this was all wrong, and he should be mad. She’d just crashed an elite party as the date of another man. He had to have questions—maybe not as many as her, but definitely some.
Instead, he was asking her to dance. Objectively speaking, it was the
least important thing they could do in the moment, but also the only thing she really wanted to do. Her dress was literally made for waltzing.
And she was made for Jack.
One pretty dress, a fancy suit, and suddenly you’re a fatalist, huh?
Hushing her inner heckler, Claire glanced back at Margot who shooed her away with her hand. It was all the permission Claire needed to let Jack lead her to the floor of waltzing couples.
For that brief walk, she felt elegant and timeless, transported back 300 years into a period of gaudy extravagance and propriety. On Malachi’s arm, she had felt self-conscious, but with Jack, all she wanted to do was lean into the surrealness of the moment and let Jack sweep her off her feet.
Literally.
The waltz was in full swing when they arrived at the edge of the dance floor. Jack turned, eyes on hers as he faced her and clasped her right hand in his left, stepping into position. Claire literally forgot to breathe for a moment when his other hand found her shoulder blade, pulling her closer.
Jack might look like he had an unassuming build, but his muscles under the suit made it easy for Claire to find the correct position for her hand as they stepped into position.
She must have been blushing because he looked at her cheeks, then quickly to her lips, and smiled.
“Ready?” he whispered.
Claire nodded, and off they went. Easily. Like flying … if humans could fly. Or maybe like falling … if falling didn’t hurt.
Whatever the case, Claire leaned into the sensation, loving how the billowing of her dress created a parachute effect that made it feel like only a fraction of her weight touched down with each step as Jack effortlessly wove them through the other dancers.
All her life, Claire had considered herself a wallflower at dances. An hour ago, she would have said she didn’t particularly care for dancing, but this?
She could do this forever.
Her dance instructor had always said that all anyone needed to enjoy dancing was the right partner. Jack was that partner. There were enough variations in the waltz that things could have gotten cumbersome quite quickly. They didn’t. All she had to do was trust Jack to fit right in.
Every worry Claire had all night disappeared when she looked at Jack and found his eyes on her when the music took a softer turn.
Say it! her mind screamed at her. Drop the L-word. Tell him you love him.
The moment felt so perfect, she couldn’t think of a single reason to wait a second longer. But then the brass instruments picked up, causing the music to swell and the dance to build until the moment was gone and she would have had to shout her confession over the trumpets.
You snooze, you lose.
Yeah. Like life hadn’t taught her that a thousand times over.
The dance was too captivating for her to obsess over her missed opportunity for long, however. The crescendo meant more grandiose movements, which meant Jack’s grip got more secure, which meant Claire had less access to her brain, which meant giving in and just leaning into the moment until the music slowed.
They slowed, too, Jack’s hand sliding down from her shoulder blade to just above her hip and gripping as his other hand raised into the air. Memories of dance class came flashing back and she angled her left hand down and mirrored his grip on her with her other hand.
Eyes locked, they started spinning in time with the escalating beat, her dress quickly catching the momentum and helping them build into a pace that was more inertia than effort.
Yes, this definitely felt like flying. And when Jack scooped up her hand and pulled her back into waltzing position she couldn’t help the thrill of laughter that escaped her as they swirled to the finale.
When the music stopped and Jack bowed elegantly, all Claire could think was that she never wanted this moment to end. That didn’t change the fact that it had. She saw the regret on Jack’s face as he straightened from his bow.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I know we need to talk, but I just really wanted—”
Claire covered his lips with a gloved finger. “Don’t apologize. I’m going to remember that dance for the rest of my life.”
He smiled, his eyes alight as they dropped to her lips again. Was it possible to faint from the stress of someone not kissing you? Because Claire was starting to feel lightheaded and a little impulsive on the matter. Sure, public displays of affection were against the etiquette of the era, but some things were better in the twenty-first century.
“By the way,” he said, looking her up and down. “You look amazing … stunning … unforgettable.”
For once in her life, Claire felt a compliment land and stick because she felt amazing, stunning, and unforgettable.
Jack did that to her. The dress certainly didn’t hurt, but it was mostly Jack.
A minuet started the moment Claire opened her mouth to return the compliment, and Jack slid his hand into hers.
“C’mon,” he said, leading her from the floor. “We have about fifteen minutes to catch up before I’m back on adviser duty.”
She was happy to follow wherever he led but knew that Margot and Ren needed to be in on the conversation. When she glanced over her shoulder, Claire found her boss tracking their movement with her eyes. When Claire gestured for her to join them, both Margot and Ren started following immediately and Claire felt her anxieties about the evening lessen.
She might be in a palace surrounded by men in black and policed by guys in green, but with Jack, Margot, and Ren at her side, Claire knew things like that could be overcome. She’d done the impossible with them time and time again, and tonight would be no different. She knew it, so she didn’t fight the warm confidence that filled her as she held Jack’s hand—fingers tangled into his—as he guided her through the festivities to someplace more private.
Man, she wished that was as sexy as it sounded. But no. They really did need to talk.
He led her to the far side of the room to a doorway leading to some curved stairs. About half-way up, they turned into a room that was much more functional than the grand hall they’d just left. The ceilings were twelve-feet and squared off, as opposed to vaulted archways they’d left behind
“We’ll have privacy here,” Jack said, turning to face her but not releasing her hand. “And I’ll be able to see when the prince returns to the throne.”
Yeah. That. “I have so many questions about all this,” Claire said, her mind split between asking them and taking just a few more seconds off the clock to give Jack the kiss she’d been thinking about since she first saw him in his suit.
“Ask anything,” he said, stepping into her and taking both of her hands into his.
Did he honestly expect her to be able to think with him standing so close—the heat of their dancing radiating from him and the clean scent of him clouding her mind?
If he wanted her to start thinking strategically, he needed to take about three steps back.
“Okay,” she breathed, trying to find her mental footing while keeping him right where she liked him. “I guess I’ll start with the most obvious question first.”
He nodded, eyes intent and ready for anything. “Okay.”
“Why is there a bear in the ballroom?”
Jack blinked in surprise before he let out a small laugh that only hushed when he looked at her like she might just be too good for this world and his lips found hers. And Claire didn’t fight it one bit as they wasted a few more seconds not talking.
Chapter 15
Claire
Claire now knew four things she hadn’t known before.
One, bears could be domesticated.
Two, the people dressed up in Rococo finery in the other room were some of the most influential people on the planet.
Three, Jack’s suit color was not a random choice. A lot of people worked in different capacities for what Jack called The Royals. Jack was a pimpernel, and the pimpernels were color-coded by region. Jack’s region was cobalt; hence, the distinct color of his s
uit.
Four, the banner hanging over the main entrance was one of four banners that everyone in their society was organized under. And by coincidence—or maybe not by coincidence at all—Jack, Margot, and Ren were all members of different banners, and Claire—if she joined the society—would belong to the fourth banner. Malachi’s banner.
That’s about as far as they’d gotten before getting entrenched in the topic of Malachi.
“Nothing he does is an accident,” Jack was telling her, eyes intent. “Always remember that. He’s meticulous.” There was a slight pause before he added, “More meticulous than you.”
In a weird way, that made Claire feel better. Or maybe she just felt better knowing Jack knew Malachi, and they weren’t arch enemies, but Jack wouldn’t exactly call him a friend either. When it came to where everyone stood with Malachi, they were all hedging except Ren.
Ren clearly hated the man.
“Ren called him a ‘second son’ a few minutes ago,” Claire said. “What does that mean?”
Jack cast a look toward Margot, seeming to check if she wanted to answer. Based on her expression, she didn’t so Jack took the reins.
“Royal lines follow birth order,” he said. “Oldest sons and daughters are the only ones born into the potential of becoming kings and queens. Malachi is a twin, but the second born. That means his brother will unilaterally take over the family business once he rises to king.”
That sounded a little one-sided, but Claire knew her opinion was about as productive as a sneeze on a breeze on the topic, so she just nodded and kept on listening.
“A second son has more freedom than the oldest,” Jack continued. “He can marry who he wants and follow his own interests. But he still lives his life in preparation to fill in for his brother, should something happen.”
“That’s sounds…biblical,” Claire said.
Jack nodded. “It’s exactly that. Mainstream culture has changed a lot over the millennia, but the Royals haven’t. Malachi will carry on his brother’s name, both in business and family, if something happens. In the meantime, he is free to live as he wishes.”
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