Delaney turned around. She slipped away from the pillar. She wove through the crowd, keeping her head down, avoiding the eyes of the curious matrons. She needed air. She needed the dark.
She found the glass doors leading to the balcony and pushed them open.
On the dance floor, Rowan was miserable.
He was dancing with the most beautiful woman in London. He was the envy of every man in the room.
But he felt nothing.
"The music is divine, is it not?" Celine asked.
Rowan looked down at her. "Yes. Divine."
"I heard the composer is Austrian," Celine continued. "I studied music theory in Paris. The use of the cello is quite revolutionary."
Rowan nodded. Intelligent. Check.
"And politics?" Celine asked, switching topics effortlessly. "I hear the Corn Laws are causing quite a stir in Parliament. Do you think the tariffs will be lifted?"
Rowan blinked. She knew about the Corn Laws. She was smart. She was articulate.
"I believe they will be debated next session," Rowan replied.
