Dance With Me

An extravagantly decorated ballroom, elegant music, bustling staff, hundreds of guests… Very few could pull such a grand event before the season began but the only daughter of the Bainsfield family is to be introduced this social season so what’s not to celebrate? A cacophony of whispers danced around the room, an undertone to the melodies being played by the orchestra. Although this was a celebration for Hazel Bainsfield, the guests were most curious about her elder brother. Christopher Damien Bainsfield, Duke of Wolfshire: a textbook gentleman with no scandals to date… aside from the fact that he has yet to find a wife although he inherited his title young. Easily danced around in social circles; kept up with names and events and yet not much is known about the man. Every noble who received an invitation jumped at the chance to attend such a rare occasion thrown by such a powerful enigma and his uninvited guest was no exception only… her interest stemmed from something a bit deeper than simple curiosity bloomed from gossip and rumors. Deep enough that she took a week’s journey to don a mask, sneak into the masquerade, and find the answer. No one would possibly notice an extra head in a crowded room nor would a certain duke notice yet another set of watchful eyes trained on him. So the question of the evening stood, “What was this gentleman hiding behind his facade?”

Having such a delectable suitor dangled in front of their faces, many of the noble women were vying for his attention. The friendly smile painted on his face contrasted the pleasantly icy words falling from his lips that held all of these women at arms length. As interesting as it was to watch the mental warfare of high society conversation, there were answers to be found. Thus the wallflower pulled away from her corner to make her way to the group. Without batting an eye at the snippy mothers or the prickly glares of young women, the mystery guest approached the duke and curtsied before him.

“I apologize for the interruption, Duke Wolfshire, but it seems the dowager duchess is looking for you.”

No one hid their skepticism at this announcement, but none would risk crossing Her Grace so begrudgingly the women left to find entertainment elsewhere for the time being. The intruder chuckled at the sight of the haughty ladies tucking their tails between their legs and scurrying off. At the same time a pair of scrutinizing eyes scanned this unknown guest who dared to tell such a blatant lie with such assurance. Curious, the Duke spoke, causing the girl to finally look him in the eye.

"My lady, is my company so desirable that you chose to lie to monopolize my time?”

"Monopolize? I was simply helping a poor gentleman who looked in desperate need of a break from vultu- I mean respectable ladies," she countered with an innocent smile.

“Not necessarily but it does raise suspicions when you're also one of them are you not?" He pointed at her left hand which was devoid of a certain metal binding on her finger.

"Not everyone will fight for your attention, Your Grace, and you can say… I'm not your average lady. I have yet to introduce myself, have I not?"

"Then may I be graced with your name dear savior?" He mocked.

"I respectfully decline. This is a masquerade afterall, what fun would it be if one cannot enjoy the mystery of such an event?"

The duke could do nothing more than quirk his brow curiously as his conversation partner answered with a light smile. It was common sense in the ways of high society to jump at such an opportunity when addressed by a single man of his prestige and yet the woman before Christopher was unwilling to give her name or any indicator of the family she’s from. His interest was now piqued but the lady had already decided to retreat and change tactics, too many inquiries would risk exposure. In the few moments of silence between the two, she took this opportunity to step into a curtsy.

"I should leave your side now. If I stay any longer I believe the mothers will smell foul play and come after me."

Before she could turn away from him, Christopher stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. It seemed his body moved before his brain finished processing but his instincts were telling him not to let her go yet.

"Dance with me. If not a name, allow me this dance."

The last place she wanted to be was center stage but it was already too late once the iron wall of a duke offered his hand, a rare if not scarce occasion. The watchful eyes that followed the duke now looked at the mysterious woman beside him so she could do nothing but accept his outstretched hand. With the drag of the violin’s bow, the music began and the two soon melded with the other dancers as they glided along with the notes. Christopher’s eyes were trained on his partner trying to figure her next move like a game of chess, on the other hand her mind took a more shallow interest as her eyes drank in the features of his face. The wavy ash brown hair that was styled up although a few strands gave way and fell in his face, soft features although he was a man who has experienced war, but the most striking feature were his dark downturned eyes that watched as hers took in every detail, up until his heart-shaped lips that curved into a smirk. Christopher knew and in response her own lips frowned slightly.

"What?"

"You're actually quite mischievous aren't you?"

"I have yet to speak more than a word, my lady, that’s a bit harsh," he feigned innocence.

"You already know Your Grace, your face says everything."

It was rare for men of nobility to humor a sharp-tongued woman let alone match her pace as he has without patronizing them so although she rolled her eyes a ghost of a smile pulled at her lips. His playful smile brightened a bit at the sight and were it not for their own purposes of taking this dance, it may have even been pleasant but there were too many questions left unanswered. Like the intricate steps of their dance their words were the same as neither revealed what the other wanted so as the song was winding to a close the duke gave the lady one final chance to prove his instincts wrong.

"Will you really not give me your name?"

"I do not find it in my plans for this evening, no."

"I'm not quite sure if I’m intrigued or vexed by your dedication to the mystery."

"Then I've seemed to have done something right," she smiled.

As the onlookers clapped for the end of the song, the moment Christopher straightened from his bow his partner had already faded to the back of the group of women who surged forward for a chance to be the duke’s next partner. His eyes trailed after her figure for a moment longer before his attention was demanded. Outside the ballroom the woman moved through the shadows with ease, the halls empty and the clamor of the other guests fading away with every step. After a flight of stairs and a few wrong turns she finally arrived at the room that should give her the answers the man himself refused to reveal. Skimming through shelves, sifting through papers, digging through desk drawers, all the nooks and crannies of his office were clean… that was not the ideal situation she had hoped for. Her orders were clear but she didn’t plan to follow through, he did not fit her usual target. Before she could think about a countermeasure her ears perked at the gentle taps of approaching footsteps. In one quick motion she closed the open drawer she stood by as she took a seat on the arm of the desk chair with her back to the door. In the reflection of the window her eyes watched the small crack between the door and its frame open wider to show none other than the owner of this room. With a hand in his pocket, he eyed her intently but she made no move to acknowledge him.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of finding you here?"

"I was feeling faint so I left the ballroom to find somewhere to rest for a bit."

Her response was casual as she moved closer to the window in an attempt to put some distance between the two although it did little as his steps were the only sound in the quiet room aside from the occasional low rumble of thunder. At some point after entering the manor, the clear skies grayed and rain was imminent.

"Did a maid not bring you to a resting room?"

“I didn’t bother asking. I wanted to see the moon so I followed the light and ended up here. The higher the spot the better the view.”

Her eyes were drawn from the man approaching to the motion below and noticed a few servants setting up a canopy. In the moment she looked away the duke had closed the space between them until she felt his faint warmth emanating in the little space left. At the feeling of his breath brushing past the nape of her neck, his voice low, her own breath caught in her throat.

"Well it seems the moon has shies away from your attention."

Her skin buzzed at the close proximity as her hand instinctively brushed against her skirt. Had she not come with an ulterior motive, she too would probably fall victim to such a tempting display but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"I see you don't really play the gentleman's game."

"Neither do you. You aren't the average lady… right?"

"You have caught me there, but it seems something else has come to take that attention away."

Her voice stayed even although her instincts shouted at her that something was amiss. The warning only grew louder once the duke brushed the stray hair that had fallen from her bun off her shoulder. The distance never changed between them but the hairs of her arms stood on edge where the ghosts of his touch passed, from her shoulder down to her forearm.

"Well I cannot deny that statement although the moon will be preoccupied with a little thing called rain," his voice dropped to a whisper as his hand found its way around her waist and in an instant her concealed dagger was drawn and held at her throat.

“Why are you really here?”

“Well this is refreshing. If you weren’t already attractive this would’ve really made me swoon.”

Christopher was unsettled by the light-hearted tone coming from a woman whose life could end with a single move but this was not his uninvited guest’s first time getting derailed from her original plan and she would be a fool to infiltrate a duke’s home, let alone any nobleman’s, without a back-up plan. Although he held the dagger at her throat he was careful to keep it from touching her skin, an uncertainty in his actions that didn’t go unnoticed. She raised her hands in mock surrender until she felt cool metal brush past her fingers. In an instant the sharpened tip of a floral pin was inches away from Christopher’s face, causing him to flinch back, disorienting him enough to loosen his hold on both the intruder and the dagger. With a quick strike to his wrist the dagger was returned to its rightful owner as she spun out of his hold and locked eyes with the man who now stood at the tip of her blade. Just as quickly as the shock came, Christopher recomposed himself and drew the sword that adorned the wall beside him. Metal began to clash: thrust, dodge, parry, strike, counter, movements that tied the two in an intricate dance of their own once again. The second part of the order screamed in the back of her head but with every blow exchanged she was careful not to harm the gentleman. It wasn’t until she felt the smooth wood of the window sill pressing against the small of her back did she realize she had gotten herself into quite the predicament pinned between a window and a sword-wielding man. At some point in this exchange the mask fell from the duke’s face, exposing his full features in the dim candle light warming his ivory skin. She could not deny that the man before her was truly beautiful although she did not have the luxury to enjoy the sight. With her dagger still trained on the duke, she stepped onto the sill as her free hand worked the latch. Panic flooded his face in an instant as he instinctively stepped back as if that would halt her actions.

“Wait! This is the third floor!”

He had dropped his sword in an attempt to coax the woman off the ledge but she was more focused on his eyes, gateways that exposed his thoughts. In that moment, she knew that Christopher Damien Bainsfield was yet another innocent being dragged into a mess he had nothing to do with.

“... I know.”

In the moments after the words left her mouth Christopher couldn’t help but be enamored by the being before him. Standing against the brief moonlight that escaped the clouds, it gave her form an ethereal glow that contrasted against her ebony hair but that triumphant smile that disappeared with its owner as soon as it came was the thing that engraved itself in his mind. In the seconds between standing and falling into the rain she caught a glimpse of the duke lunging for her before her back hit the canopy. As she rolled down she used her dagger to catch where the fabric met the poles holding it and used the momentum to swing to the ground below. It wasn’t until Christopher’s eyes registered the flutter of her skirt disappearing under the canopy, signaling she was safe, that his body was able to move as he ran out of the room. By then a concerned maid had already caught the soaked guest in a soiled gown and was already escorting her to a resting room. Once the door closed she could use no more than a few minutes to organize her thoughts, a minute too long and the duke was bound to catch up. She could find nothing incriminating on the duke to use as blackmail but she refused to kill the man simply for being a decent person, even if it hindered whatever plan the organization had. The repercussions of disobeying popped into her mind as she let out a sigh, this would not be the last order sent even if she wasn’t the one to fulfill it. A little whisper in her mind compelled her to grab a sheet of paper and uncharacteristically the uninvited guest penned a simple note before leaving her mask alongside it on the desk. In the next moment it was out yet another window and into the rainy night.

I had no intention of killing you but the others will not share my sentiment and be sure I won’t be the last.

-Your Savior