Heartless Hunter (Crimson Moth, #1) (20)

She wouldn’t have asked him to dance if she’d known he didn’t know how. Humiliating him like that, in front of all her friends, would not win him over. And from the rigid line of his shoulders and the stiffness in his step beside her, she could tell his guard was still up.

If she was going to ensnare him, she needed to first put him at ease.

“I apologize for my guests. You’re a novelty here, you must know that. They couldn’t help but stare.”

He scanned their surroundings, taking in everything from the pale blue floor tiles to the white marble columns lining this hall. “Is that a nice way of saying I lack pedigree?”

“Not at all!” She forced a laugh, settling into her persona. “Just look at your suit.”

“It was my father’s,” he said, defensive.

Rune’s footsteps slowed. He thinks I’m making fun of him.

How was she botching this so badly?

“Wait …” She frowned, realizing what he’d said. “It was your father’s suit, or your father made it?”

“Both.”

Rune stopped walking altogether. Gideon was several yards ahead. Realizing she was no longer at his side, he turned to face her.

“Gideon. You’re wearing a vintage suit made by the Sharpe Duet, and you think my guests are laughing at your pedigree?”

He cocked his head. “Yes?”

She stared at him. He really doesn’t know.

Nan and her friends owned nothing made by the Sharpe Duet, but not for lack of trying. Until now, Rune had never even seen one of their garments up close.

“A collector would pay tens of thousands of dollars for that jacket alone,” she told him. “Because it’s so rare.”

“Because my parents are dead, you mean.”

Rune winced. Technically, yes. That they were no longer alive to make more garments increased the value of those currently in existence. But the Sharpes’ designs had been rare before they died. Once the Sister Queens employed them, Sun and Levi Sharpe tailored for the Rosebloods alone, ensuring few originals were ever made.

Surely he knew this?

“What I’m trying to say is, if my guests are staring at you, it’s because you’re Gideon Sharpe, a living legend. A hero who risked his life leading revolutionaries into the palace and single-handedly killing two witch queens.”

She didn’t fake the awe in her voice. Rune might despise him for what he’d done, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t impressed by the courage it had required.

“They’re staring at you because you’re at the same party they are. You’re not exactly known for accepting invitations.”

“I lack basic manners, you mean.” He nodded, as if understanding. “I don’t see how that’s different from lacking in pedigree, though.”

She growled a little. He seemed to be intentionally misunderstanding her.

To her surprise, Gideon smiled. If you could call the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth a smile.

Is he … teasing me?

A furious heat rushed up her neck. Has he been teasing me this whole time?

Seeing her blush, the corner of Gideon’s mouth did curve upward, staying that way for several seconds.

Rune looked away, trying to focus. Remember the plan. Lure him in.

“If you attended more of my parties,” she said, continuing forward to rejoin him, “I could ensure you knew how to dance to any song when a girl asks you.”

“Are you offering to give me lessons?”

The question caught her off guard.

Am I?

Rune had taught his brother. Alex was an eager pupil, happy to let her lead. She doubted Gideon would subject himself to such a thing.

“I …”

“A girl like you has better things to do with her time, surely.”

She didn’t. Not during the day, which was full of dreary social calls: picnics and luncheons and carriage rides, all so she could wring gossip from her friends like drops of water from a wet towel, desperately hoping it might help her save one more witch.

But he didn’t really seem interested.

“You don’t have to deflect,” she said. “You can simply say you don’t want to dance with me.”

He glanced sharply toward her. “That’s not …”

This time, he stopped walking. When Rune turned to face him, she found his jaw clenched. He rubbed a hand over it.

“I have a counteroffer: you could accompany me to an actual party.” He glanced back in the ballroom’s direction. “There will be no ball gowns. No hired musicians. No songs with ridiculous steps …”

He trailed off, studying Rune in the flickering light of the gas lamps throughout the hall. Remembering himself, he shook his head. “A girl like you wouldn’t be caught dead dancing with riffraff in disreputable locales.”

The idea of it thrilled her, actually.

Though it definitely shouldn’t.

“Who says I’ll get caught? Name the date, and I’ll be there.”

The frown creasing his forehead deepened. “Careful, Miss Winters, or I might call your bluff.”

“Are you so sure I’m bluffing?”

Again, his mouth twitched. As if he wanted to smile.

It felt like victory.