Page 28 of Bluebeard’s Key

“Help me with these cuffs?” Zayan asked.

Tom was tentative, like he was afraid to touch him, and asked, “Where are the buttons? Mine has buttons.”

“I think we need to tie these little ribbons.”

Tom fussed with it, but after fumbling through two unsuccessful tries with the slippery silk, he said, “I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble with this.”

Zayan suggested, “Let’s go sit on the bed.” He perched next to Tom on the bedspread, nestling up next to him so their hips touched, and rested his arm in Tom’s lap. It felt so damnably good to touch someone in friendship, an effective antidote to the angry blows and disappointed glares he always got from Bluebeard.

Tom got to work, intent on the process of tying the little bows, not seeing the way Zayan was looking at him. Tom was like an open book, all his emotions written clearly on his face. Moments before, while he was dressing, confusion had danced across Tom’s face, watching but holding back, wanting so much to touch but afraid to. And now the confusion was banished as Tom focused wholly on his task, tongue darting out of his mouth in his frustration, replaced by a satisfied grin when he tied the first tiny bow. It seemed that Tom always focused on the task at hand, living in the moment, responding to the challenges of life as they came. Zayan was struck once again. He felt comfort in Tom’s openness, like he knew exactly where he stood with the adorable lug. Maybe tonight would be the night. He hoped so.

After tying the cuffs, Tom helped him shrug into his jerkin and he helped Tom tie his tie, all the time watching Tom’s face shift from concentration to laughter to shyness when they touched, and finally, as they looked at themselves standing side by side in the mirror, a look of sheer undiluted happiness. Tom hooked his arm and offered, “Will you be my date for the night?”

Taking his arm, Zayan thought: Oh yes, maybe tonight will be the night.

CHAPTER 21

So many firsts! Tom had never lived in a castle, never ridden a magical boat, never worked in a greenhouse with fantastical plants, and until mere moments before, he had never been to a fancy-dress ball. It was all so exciting and glamorous and romantic. He never would have experienced any of this if he had taken a traditional professorship at a normal university. How did he ever get so lucky?

As they entered the hall, Zayan looked magnificent on his arm. Thierry gave their ties a disapproving glance before announcing to the hall, “The Apprentice Alchemists of Château des Fleurs, Masters Thomas Dalton and Zayan Sarim.”

Tom was thrilled to his very core as they entered together. He felt regal, dressed so finely, and the most handsome man in the room was his date! It was all beyond belief. This was going to be a night to remember.

Beatrice had set a high bar for her first major social function at the Château, transforming the hall with summer splendor. Everywhere he looked, there were magnificent bouquets of summer flowers, and their dining table no longer dominated the center of the room, instead playing a supporting role with the sumptuous buffet. Their newest serving girl pressed glasses of champagne into their hands, and another rushed over to offer puff pastry appetizers filled with Greenhaven’s equivalent of Roquefort cheese. A string quartet filled the air with classical music, although not tunes he recognized, and the floor swirled with dancers, strutting gracefully through something like a quadrille.

Uh oh, Tom thought, that’s so much more complex than anything I could do. Last time he danced with Zayan, he could barely keep from stepping on his toes during a simple waltz.

Beatrice caught their eye and waved to them, so they skirted around the dance floor to greet her. She was hanging on Bluebeard’s arm, and unsurprisingly, he was wearing his perennial scowl, smiling only when necessary.

“Welcome, boys. I see that you’ve located some refreshment. My, you look dashing with those impeccable ascots.”

“Thanks,” Tom said. “We did them ourselves this time, or rather, Zayan did them for us. I hope they’re okay. I don’t know if the knots fit the period of the costume. Thierry didn’t seem too happy about them. He needs to give us instructions if he wants them done right.”

“They’re fine,” she said, then nudged Bluebeard. “Dearest, we have an incoming on your right.”

A grand dame with a dress like a wedding cake bustled over, holding out her hand, saying, “Giles, it’s been simply forever.”

He took her hand and gave it a perfunctory kiss, saying, “Agatha, it’s good to see you again. Welcome back to Château des Fleurs.”

“I swear, you look like you haven’t aged a day,” she said. “You look the same as when you were courting me, those many years ago.”

“And you, chère madame, are even more lovely,” Bluebeard said, patting her hand before releasing it. “Is your husband knocking around here somewhere?”

“Unfortunately not. He was not up to the journey. His health, you see.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Beatrice said. “Perhaps my husband can save a dance for you this evening.”

“That would be most welcome,” she said. She continued playfully, tapping him on the shoulder with her fan, “I still haven’t forgiven you, Giles, for leaving me at the altar.”

Bluebeard laughed at this, a strange, wry laugh, and said, “Despite the pain, you still managed to find a replacement, and saved yourself from the ordeal of living with me.”

She said, “Never a replacement, Giles, never that, but certainly an alternative.”

Bluebeard looked well pleased by the compliment, still smiling that odd little smile, but Beatrice was obviously tiring of the direction of this conversation. She deftly changed the subject.

“It’s good to see so many on the dance floor. If I remember correctly, the next dance will be the Highland Quadrille. Dearest, would you be so kind as to join me on the floor? And the boys, too. The night is young, and you two need to enjoy it. Dearest, were they not graceful on the dance floor after our wedding? Zayan has been tutoring our Thomas in the waltz. You should be proud to have such skillful apprentices.”

Bluebeard barked a surly laugh and announced, far too loudly, “I would be much pleased if my apprentice’s skill in the laboratory were a fraction of his skills on the dance floor. Alas, I don’t have that pleasure.”