Their fingers met, and the sensation was unlike anything Evie had felt before—warm, grounding, and yet filled with a strange sort of electricity, like touching something ancient that had only just awakened. Her breath caught in her chest, and for a moment, the world outside that dimly lit parlor ceased to exist.
He gave the faintest bow before pulling her gently into the center of the room. The music began again, soft and surreal, as though summoned by his very presence.
As they began to move, slowly at first, he looked down at her. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer now. "I feel at a disadvantage. You know nothing about me, and yet here I am, dancing with you in the shadows of a forgotten room."
Evie tilted her head, studying him. "Then tell me," she said. "Start with your name."
He gave a small, amused smile. "Lucas. Lucas Thorne."
The name fit him elegant and refined, yet shadowed by something she couldn't quite place. Like the mansion itself.
"And you?" he asked. "What name belongs to the girl with music in her fingers and curiosity in her eyes?"
"Evie," she replied. "Evie Alden."
"A pleasure," he said, and for a moment, there was something genuinely kind in his tone. "Evie Alden."
They continued to dance, the space between them narrowing ever so slightly with each step. The flickering candlelight made his mask shimmer, and she found herself wondering what expression lay beneath it.
"I didn't think anyone would find this room," he murmured after a beat. "Most guests stay in the golden parts of the house—the bright, polished rooms. But not you."
"I wasn't looking for anything in particular," Evie said. "I just… needed quiet."
Lucas nodded slowly. "And yet, you brought music with you."
Their eyes locked, and in that gaze, Evie felt something stir something more than intrigue. Something that felt like being watched by the past and the future all at once.
"I should probably go back," she said suddenly, breaking eye contact. "People will notice."
"Will they?" Lucas asked, his tone unreadable. "I don't think you came with anyone , lady Evie."
Evie blinked, caught off guard by how easily the words rolled off his tongue. Lady Evie. There was no mocking in his tone, only a light tease that made her smile despite herself.
"No, I didn't," she admitted. "I came alone."
Lucas's smile deepened, warm now, as if pleased with her honesty. "Then you're not missing anything. And neither am I."
She laughed softly, the sound surprising even to her. "Do you always say things like that?"
"Only when I mean them," he replied, with a casual charm that made her feel suddenly at ease.
The dance slowed, and Evie felt the quiet between them grow comfortable rather than awkward. His hand on her waist was steady, his steps confident, and she found herself falling into rhythm with him effortlessly, like they'd done this before.
"You're not like the others," she said, more to herself than to him.
Lucas raised a brow behind the edge of his mask. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"
"A compliment," she said, her voice gentle. "Most of the men out there seemed like they were playing a part. You don't."
His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, softening. "And you… you're not pretending either. That's rare here."
Evie felt the warmth rise to her cheeks. Something about Lucas made her feel seen—truly seen—and not just as another masked guest in a grand house.
"I think I needed this," she admitted, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. "A moment like this. Away from all that."
Lucas's hand brushed lightly against hers as they stilled, standing just a breath apart. "Then let's not let it end just yet."
The candlelight flickered between them, but the silence now was full of possibilities, not hesitation.
For the first time that night, Evie felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
As the last notes of the music faded into silence, Lucas offered his arm with an easy grace. "Come," he said, voice low. "There's a veranda just beyond the corridor. The air is cooler there."
Evie hesitated only a moment before taking his arm. His touch was steady, and she felt the warmth of his palm through the thin silk of her glove. Together, they slipped out of the quiet room, leaving behind the flickering candlelight and lingering notes of the music.
The corridor was dim, the wallpaper faded but elegant, the hush of the house pressing in around them like a secret. They walked in silence until Lucas opened a tall set of French doors, revealing the moonlit veranda beyond.
Cool night air spilled in, brushing against Evie's skin like a balm. The veranda stretched out over a quiet garden, shadows dancing across stone paths and tangled roses. A fountain murmured somewhere in the darkness.
"This is better," Lucas murmured, releasing her arm and stepping to the railing. He looked out into the night, then back at her. "Don't you think?"
Evie joined him, her hands resting lightly on the stone edge. "Yes," she breathed. "Much better."
The stars above were distant and clear, the kind of sky that felt ancient and knowing. For a while, they simply stood there in silence, the sound of the fountain and the rustle of leaves between them.
"I don't usually feel this way," Evie said softly. "Like the world's holding its breath."
Lucas turned toward her, and though the shadows still concealed much of his expression, his voice was steady. "Perhaps it is."
She glanced at him, her curiosity still blooming. "You speak like someone who's been here before. Like you know this place well."
"I do," he said. "Or did. It's been a long time."
There was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver down her spine not of fear, but of mystery. Of stories she hadn't yet heard.
She looked back at the stars. "Then tell me."