The ballroom was already full and I wondered how the hosting family, the Fedinvidles, would fit the rest of their guests, who were still lined up in the hall behind us. As if in answer to my question, the doors to the patio were swept open, giving us a glimpse of the large patio.
"Shall we remain inside and dance, or would you prefer to go wander through the gardens?" Del asked with a suggestive smile.
I shook my head. "I rarely leave the ballroom."
"I assume you rarely have someone with whom you feel safe leaving."
"I still do not."
He laughed. "How do you always have the perfect rebuttal?"
"I spend all night just imagining conversations and coming up with cutting rejoinders." I kept my expression cool though my eyes were sparkling with laughter.
Del shook his head. "I surrender, at least for now. Where may I escort you, Jen?"
"Oh, let us go see Anassia," I said, pulling him towards my friend. She wore a gown of daring red that set off her dark skin and black hair to perfection.
She looked at us in surprise when she noticed our approach, then sent me a 'we shall talk later' look.
"Harford Convarta, Anassia Romaneta." I performed brief introductions and Del let go of my arm to bow over Anassia's hand.
"A pleasure," he said.
"Same. I saw you at the trial. I will admit, I thought you hated Jen."
He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced at me, but I just shrugged. I was not going to get him out of this.
"Well, we had a bit of a misunderstanding, but we have worked out our differences." His voice gained confidence as he added, "She has forgiven me now, though, at least enough to allow me to court her."
"You are courting Jen?"
"Yes."
Anassia shook her head and sent me another look. I just shrugged again. I would tell her the full story in private tomorrow or the next day over tea.
"Well then, I suppose you had best ask her to dance before that wave of men gets here." Anassia motioned out and I turned to see four or five of the young men I often danced with headed our way.
"Every dance is mine," Del growled in my ear.
"You cannot have every dance. Pick two and prepare to curb your inner fiend of jealousy."
"The slow gambols are mine," he whispered, choosing the slowest, most intimate dance. "Whether we dance them all or simply sit together, no one else will get to hold you close."
His warm breath was wreaking havoc on my senses. All I could do was nod.
"Good. Do not leave the room with anyone. I will be watching." He grabbed my hand and brushed a kiss on my inner wrist before stepping back. The other men gathered around and began claiming the rest of my dances.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. My first dance with Del came early and I enjoyed being in his arms as we spoke of light topics, such as the decor of the ballroom.
By the time we danced our second dance, I was tired. While I usually danced many of the dances, I rarely danced every dance. My arrival on Del's arm had made me unusually popular.
"You are having a busy night," Del remarked casually, pulling me against him.
I moved a few inches back as I placed my hand in his. "I do not usually dance this much," I admitted. "I think arriving with you has made me more popular." I put on a teasing smile. "Your plan has had the opposite effect of what you had hoped. Instead of discouraging your competition, you are only creating more."
He laughed roughly. "The evening has certainly not played out as I had expected. I would not say that my time here has been wasted though. I have held you in my arms twice, met your closest friend, and I have a good idea who else is seeking your hand."
"That is true," I agreed as he tightened the hand holding my waist.
"How many more dances have you promised?" he asked.
"All of them," I answered with a frown.
"Then you intend to remain to the end?"
"Well I cannot withdraw now. That would be rude."
By the time we finally started home, I was exhausted. I had met many new young men and danced every dance except the two slow dances I sat with Del and rested. Del took me in his carriage and I found myself drifting off on his shoulder within minutes of leaving.
He woke me when we arrived at my family's pretentious mansion with a tender kiss on my forehead.
I blinked at him sleepily and let him assist me out of the carriage and to the door. He smiled softly at me before leaving me in the capable hands of Mirella, who was waiting to take me to my room and get me ready for bed. We had beat the rest of the family home, so I was first in the family washroom. Mirella cleaned me and dressed me for bed.
I wondered if, after our late night, Del would still go to the park for his nightly vigil. Before I fell into bed, I checked, but his bench was empty.
With a sigh, I slipped under my covers. As I tucked my hand under my pillow, I heard the rustle of paper. Confused, I pulled out a small note. Getting out of bed and moving to the window seat, I held it up to the moonlight streaming through the window. There was a short message scrawled across the top: "We know where you sleep."
I would have wondered if it was truly a threat if it were not for the surprisingly detailed sketch underneath. The drawing was a pencil drawing of me from the shoulders up, very clearly dead with a messy splotch of red ink across my throat.
I put a hand to my throat in horror and felt myself gagging at the clear message. If I had any doubts about the danger I was in, they dissolved in that moment.