Chapter Eighteen“OOPS, I'M SO SORRY,” Maggie said as Valéry hopped back from under her waltzing misstep.
“No, no… no apologies. Here, let us try again, and make sure you follow my eyes, not my feet, d'accord?” Valéry retook her right hand, his face a grimace more than smile.
Maggie forced herself not to look down but follow his lead. She waited until the next appropriate beat and let him guide her into the steps, the light waltz music filling the white marble-tiled drawing room of the Irish Embassy.
Normally used for small meetings or receptions, the high ceilings, stately white wood-trimmed walls and large ornate gold-framed mirrors made it almost seem like a small room in a palace. Old oil paintings lined the walls, late afternoon sunlight filled the tall, white-curtained windows, and
