The sitting room was enveloped in a serene hush, the only sound being the gentle crackling of the fire as Amara gazed into the flickering flames. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—pondering the artifact, her unexpected presence here, and, most troubling of all, James. When he walked in, his authoritative aura instantly commanded the space. He didn't seek permission to sit; instead, he settled into the chair across from her, his keen gray eyes scrutinizing her intently. "I have a proposal for you," he stated, shattering the stillness. Amara crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. "That sounds rather foreboding." A subtle smile played on his lips. "Lord Montague is throwing a dinner party tomorrow night, and I would like you to join me." Her astonishment was palpable. "A dinner party? Why would you want me there?" His demeanor remained unchanged. "I'm intrigued to see how you navigate social situations, considering your… distinctive traits. Plus, I prefer to keep you close." His candidness sent an unexpected thrill through her, though she masked it with a smirk. "Distinctive traits" huh? That's one way to describe it. Alright, I'll attend. But if I end up embarrassing you, that's on you." "I'm willing to take that risk," he replied, standing up. The trace of amusement in his voice lingered long after he exited the room.
The next evening, Amara examined her reflection, hardly recognizing the woman staring back at her. The emerald gown clung to her figure, the luxurious fabric cascading elegantly around her. Mrs. Beecham had expertly styled her hair into a sophisticated twist, with a few loose curls framing her face. "You look absolutely radiant, miss," the housekeeper remarked, a rare smile gracing her lips. Amara's nerves began to ease, replaced by a growing sense of curiosity. What would James think of her appearance? As she stepped into the hallway, the look on his face made every uncomfortable moment in the corset worthwhile. His piercing gaze roamed over her, lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary. "You'll do," he said, though his tone was softer, revealing a hint of admiration.
The dinner party was fraught with tension. Amara's sharp humor captivated some guests while leaving others in shock, her contemporary views sparking a flurry of hushed discussions. Even Lord Montague appeared fascinated, chuckling heartily at her comments. In stark contrast, Lady Eleanor was far from entertained. Her every remark dripped with malice, and her polite smile never reached her eyes. "You must feel quite out of your element," Eleanor said with feigned sweetness, her gaze scrutinizing Amara's dress. "Though I suppose even the most basic styles can be… enhanced with a little effort." Amara responded with a cool smile. "Effort is indeed valuable, isn't it? After all, it takes considerable work to uphold appearances." James interjected, his voice cutting as he addressed Eleanor. "Yet some might argue that the effort often reveals more than it conceals." Eleanor's smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. The exchange left Amara feeling both thankful and anxious, she had sensed that Eleanor was not one to easily overlook such insults.
As the waltz began, James offered his hand to her. "May I have this dance?" She hesitated, but the intensity in his eyes left no room for refusal. "Alright. But don't be surprised if I step on your toes." Their movements flowed seamlessly, his hand steady on her waist. The tension between them was electric, each step bringing them closer together. "You're full of surprises," he whispered, his voice low. "So are you," she replied, maintaining her composure despite her racing heart. When the dance concluded, they lingered a moment too long, their gazes locked. The moment was only interrupted by the murmurs of the surrounding crowd.