Ballgowns rustled. Music cavorted. Jason, back in Stephen’s officer’s regalia, regarded the sea of extras. The extras, for their part, spun and practiced dance steps and compared Regency-era fancy dress costumes, trading compliments and excitement. Everett, as choreographer and participant, moved among them: checking poses, offering advice, providing encouragement. He caught Jason watching and nodded; Jason nodded back. He knew Ev had been prepared to step in, the day before, if Colby had felt too off-balance for the library. He appreciated the solidarity. Everyone on Colby’s side.
Colby at the moment was talking to Sir Laurence over by the grand ballroom’s gold-leaf door. Jason couldn’t not appreciate the view of him. That artistically tumbled hair, those long legs, the sweep of a hand.
