The night was hushed, enchanted. They danced, with only the sound of the softly falling snow as music. It dusted Lucie’s cheeks, her eyelashes. She couldn’t stop looking at Jesse. He was so beautiful, so awfully, terribly beautiful, like a marble carving of an angel—but no carving had such dark, tumbling hair, such secretive eyes. He held her tight against him as they danced, and for the first time she felt his body close to hers, the shape of him, the strength in his arms, the lean hardness of his chest beneath his too-thin shirt.

Her skirt brushed a path in the snow, though when she looked down, she could see only her own footsteps, crisscrossing each other. There was no sign at all of where Jesse had walked. She tipped her head up and found him watching her, his gaze slipping from her eyes to her mouth. It was as if his fingertips brushed her lips, shaping them; his gaze clung, neither of them looking away—

The front door of the Institute slammed in the distance. As if the music had stopped, they stilled, both frozen, gazing toward the courtyard.

“Don’t go,” she whispered—but there were footsteps on the path coming toward them. Reaching out, Jesse plucked a gold comb from Lucie’s hair, closing his hand around it. His eyes burned like stars against the night.

Lucie heard her uncle Gabriel’s voice, calling out her name, and then the rattle of the gate. Turning away, Jesse vanished, melting into the darkness like snow.

James was uncharacteristically quiet when they returned to the house after the dinner party. Cordelia could not help but worry that after a night spent with her family, he was regretting marrying her, even if it was only for a year. Once they’d dispensed with their coats, she thought he might make a break for the stairs, so he could be alone with his thoughts about his bizarre in-laws, but instead he turned to her, his gold eyes unreadable.

“I’m not ready to go to sleep just yet,” he said. “Would you like to join me in the study?”

Definitely. Anything was better than going back to her room alone and worrying she’d horrified James permanently.

The study was snug and cozy as always; Effie had built up the fire, and a plate of chocolate biscuits had been set out on the chess table. Cordelia curled up in a brocade chair beside the hearth, sticking her cold feet and hands out toward the fire like a little girl. James, more decorous as always, sank onto the sofa, looking thoughtful.

“Are you all right?” Cordelia asked, as the fire crackled into the silence between them. “I cannot imagine tonight was enjoyable for you.”