There was something especially beguiling about the way Emily made the request. She didn’t wheedle or plead, the way Lila always assumed children of her age did, and she didn’t resort to a tantrum. She just blinked up at them with an expectant look in her big blue eyes. Her face was still puffy and red from her earlier tears, her careful hairstyle now falling around her ears.

Waltzing in a pink ball gown with a man she didn’t know was the last thing Lila wanted to do right now—or, you know, ever—but at the sight of those innocently tumbling curls, she felt herself faltering. She caught Ford’s eye.

Had he turned to that easy flirtation again, said something dashing and ridiculous, she would have turned him down. She had places to go and people to avoid, and it wasn’t in her nature to place herself in situations where she felt this far out of her depth.

But he looked almost as embarrassed as she felt, his grin turned rueful. “I’m not very good, but I’m game if you are.” He gave a tiny shrug of one shoulder. “What can I say? She’s never seen a princess dance in real life before.”

Lila didn’t bother demurring further. How could she? At this point, she had nothing else to lose. She was already wearing the dress. She’d already fled the ball in shame and disgrace. And she already knew what—or who—was waiting for her upstairs.

It’s not as if this night can get any worse.

“Why not?” she said and gave what she hoped was a regal bow of her head. “I’d be delighted.”

She was rewarded with a dazzling smile from Ford and a yank on her hand. She was propelled into his arms, which came up to provide a frame worthy of any dance teacher’s beginning waltz instructions.

The music from upstairs was too quiet to trickle down, and Lila had never been very good at humming, so the only backdrop to their movements was the shuffle of their feet and the trickle of the fountain in the distance. There was something acutely disconcerting about doing a music-free waltz with a strange man, especially when his daughter stood a few feet away with a look of pure rapture on her face. Lila felt stiff and awkward, but at least her footwork was solid.

Well, it was solid until Ford started gaining confidence in his own steps. As they reached one side of the room, his hold on her waist tightened. That firmer touch, the press of his hand on the narrowest part of her, his body so long and lean against hers—it was impossible not to feel a little light-headed.