CHAPTER 12
“MAY I HAVE this dance?” Gregory asked.
He looked especially dashing in white breeches and a silver-edged mask.
“Of course.”
I could barely breathe, and it wasn’t all due to my overly tight corset. It was well after eleven o’clock—why hadn’t Midnight messaged me yet?
Please be here. Please be here. Please be here. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head.
Gregory offered me his hand, and I tucked my phone into my faux-fur muff while my insides churned like a washing machine on crack. I’d spent all day psyching myself up for the big talk with Midnight, and if he didn’t show, my nerves would snap like a frayed elastic band.
Gregory held me close for a foxtrot, and I prayed he wouldn’t feel my heart pounding in my chest, and also that I wouldn’t suffer a cardiac arrest
