Cedric rolled his eyes, ready to ask Godric what he was going on about, when suddenly Deborah’s cheerful expression fell as she looked away from the woman in the loud gown. His brows furrowed, wondering what had happened, and his gut tightened as he followed her line of sight.
He shook his head, as if she could see him do so even though he knew better, and took a step away from the bar.
“What is it?” Godric asked.
“She has seen Fairborne,” Cedric replied, watching Deborah’s every step.
“So? It is not as if she would do anything here,” Godric said blandly. “We are at a ball, for heaven’s sakes.”
Cedric didn’t reply, too busy watching Deborah reach up to her hair. The glint of steel had his heart racing, and as he muttered a curse, he moved, abandoning Godric to make his way through the large crowd.
Don’t. Not here!He thought, sliding between small gaps in the throng of bodies as his heart hammered faster. Sweat broke out on his brow as he reached her, and just as her dagger came into view, he gripped his hand tightly around hers, forcing her to let it go so that it dropped into his sleeve.
He let out a breath as the cool metal of the small dagger slid over his skin, concealed now by his shirt and jacket. He glanced around, and it seemed no one noticed what Deborah had just held or saw the intent of her actions.
“Murder is not a good look for you, darling,” Cedric whispered into her ear, feeling her rage vibrating off of her as he pressed his body tightly to hers. “What do you say we dance instead?”
He caught her hands as she whirled around, stopping her from making any more of a scene, and twirled her onto the dance floor.
“Let go of me,” she hissed, her green eyes shining with rage.
“Not going to happen,” he murmured, feigning a smile as he gripped her tightly and led her into the dance steps.
“What did you think you were going to do?” He whispered, “Stab him in front of all of these people? Then what?”
Deborah cast a glare toward Sylvester, who was obviously oblivious to how close he’d come to death. He was far too wrapped in flirting with the young woman he was dancing with- a woman, Cedric noted, who looked barely old enough to be on the marriage mart in the first place. His nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Then I would have revenge,” Deborah hissed, “For me. For Hester!”
“And what would happen after?” Cedric asked, leading her into the next step. “You would go to prison for murder or a noble. Possibly even hang!”
He cleared his throat, catching his voice reaching a dangerously loud volume, and willed himself to calm down.
“You cannot do that,” he said through gritted teeth, then sent her into a twirl.
“Why not?” Deborah whispered, coming back to him, “I have nothing left of me but this rage!”
Cedric gripped her hands and raised them above their heads as the dance invoked, and leaned in close until his lips were almost touching hers.
“You have me,” he gritted out, moving her to the left, then to the right. “I am trying to be your ally. You do not have to take this burden on your own anymore.”
Deborah chortled.
“I do not have you,” she practically spat.
Hurt laced through Cedric’s chest, but he ignored it. If that was how she felt, he could not blame her. He had just confessed to Godric that he was not in love with her, after all.
“If not for me, then Adeline,” he whispered, wrapping his arm behind her back to move her into the next steps. He watched as some of the anger in Deborah’s eyes dwindled, and he took his opening.
“That girl is coming alive because of you,” he whispered, “Do not make her lose another mother.”
The lingering anger in Deborah’s eyes extinguished in a second and was quickly replaced by guilt.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, faltering in her steps.
Cedric caught her immediately, pulling her effortlessly into the final steps of the dance.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, tears welling in her green eyes, “I did not think…I just…felt.”